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Kevin Asked. Here's My Answer.

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Recovery Q&A

On Wednesday night I called my good buddy Kevin Russell and asked him: what do you actually want to know? What do you think people are asking? So I let him ask whatever he wanted — what he was actually thinking.

I wanted this to feel like you're sitting across from me. I want to update people, but I also want this to be educational. I want people to understand what it's like to go through the surgery I had.

Kevin asked. I answered. If there's something I missed, drop it in the comments and I'd love to answer it.


How did the surgery actually go?

Joe leaving Vanderbilt University Medical Center after brain surgery
Vanderbilt University Medical Center · Discharge day.

My neurosurgeon reported that the surgery went exactly as planned, exactly as intended. We couldn't have asked for a better outcome.

Specifically: no obstructions at the foramen magnum, no CSF leakage, and no complications. He also told me my bone was exceptionally thick. Must be all the milk I've drunk over the years.

"The patient was brought into the operating room. He was intubated and placed under general anesthesia. Baseline neuromonitoring was obtained… Neuromonitoring was stable to actually improved. A posterior midline incision was planned from the inion to C2… His bone was exceptionally thick. A C1 laminectomy was performed about 2.75 cm wide… There was no obstruction at the outlet of the fourth ventricle. We then took a great deal of time to cauterize and shrink the tonsils up close to the foramen magnum… There was no CSF leakage from the dural suture line after it was complete. Valsalva did not induce any leak. He was moving all extremities before leaving the operating room. Complications: None."

Neurosurgeon · Operative Report · 2/26/2026


What was the tethered cord MRI about?

Before surgery, Dr. Lee wanted an MRI of my lower spine to check for a tethered cord, the idea being that if I had one, they could potentially do both surgeries at the same time. But VA insurance made it nearly impossible to turn that around before my surgery date.

So during my stay, they came back to me and said: since you're already here and everything is under the same VA referral, we'd like to get that MRI now. They were seeing symptoms that could be coming from a tethered cord, and if that was the case, they wanted to operate. The MRI came back clear. No tethered cord.


So what does the pain actually feel like?

Medication bowls and pink Post-it notes from recovery
The med bowls. Every morning. Every night.

Pretty tolerable, honestly. The resident set me up well — she told me the first few days would be very painful. She bolded the word "painful." Then I'd feel a whole lot better. She was right.

Once they brought in a pain management team and started the Ketamine and Lidocaine drip, things improved significantly. Then they switched me to Oxy after 48 hours.

The car ride home was rough. Pillows, blankets, neck pillows, even my mom's vest. Anything we could find went to support my neck. By the tail end I was holding my head to keep it from moving. I felt every bump, every lane switch, every turn. The roads in Illinois are terrible for pain management.

Anything that spiked my intracranial pressure shot the pain up, laughing, coughing, any of that.

Now that I'm home, here's where things actually stand with pain: light headache across the front, feels like someone stabbing down on the top of my head, and the stitches in the back feel like they're about to burst. That last one has been the most constant.

Four medications holding it together: Oxy, Gabapentin for nerve pain, Methocarbamol for muscle spasms, and Tylenol. We tapered off over about a week. Friday was my last day on Oxy. The muscle relaxers, nerve blockers, and Tylenol are staying on for the next few weeks, and I can definitely feel the difference without the narcotics. But I'm managing.


What's the part of recovery you didn't expect?

Going into surgery, I thought my two biggest problems were going to be pain and train of thought. Train of thought is pretty spot on, but it's really the energy levels and how much the medication affects me that's hit me hardest. I've really been yearning to get off these drugs. I just didn't know how bad being medicated would feel. And it's terrible.

I also didn't think I'd have as hard a time walking as I did. But honestly, I'm recovering a lot faster than I thought I ought to be. A lot of the clothes I packed were just for laying around the house, but I went to church on Sunday and have been doing other stuff I didn't think I'd be able to do. So I'm very thankful.

My mom and I have been laughing about this video where a guy in a wheelchair at Walmart, paralyzed, using a voice box, rolls around with his mom and types out: She drugs me to keep me this way. That's really what I've been feeling.


How are you sleeping?

Since surgery I've had to sleep at a 30-degree angle, which is pretty annoying given the amount of pillows it takes to make that work. I've also been going to sleep with an ice pack behind my head, one of those recirculating ones that pulls cold water from a gallon jug I fill up before bed. That's been really helpful.

Honestly, I've been sleeping a whole lot. My sleep schedule has been pretty messed up, going to bed around two, sleeping until noon, catching an afternoon nap around four. I'm hoping to transition to a better schedule this coming week.


What are you actually capable of right now — how long does recovery take?

Joe walking the neighborhood on a sunny day in Chesterfield, Missouri — Day 15 post-op
Sunny and 56 degrees. Day 15. Chesterfield, MO.

I walked around the neighborhood today. Walker is gone, doing stairs on my own. It was 56 degrees and sunny, which felt great. I didn't feel the best afterwards and ended up with a headache, but it was worth it.

Still no driving, still can't work out, still no running. Every day I'm able to do a little more.


Can you turn your head yet?

Turning my head has gotten easier by the day. I'd say I'm able to turn in either direction about 45 degrees, and looking up and down has also improved a lot. Not back to 80 degrees yet, but we're definitely working in that direction.

The range of motion does change like the stock market, throughout the day and from day to day. Some days better, some days worse. But in general, it's definitely trending up.

FRONT C1 45° 45° 80° 80° Current (45°) Target (80°) TOP-DOWN VIEW · PT CLOSES THE GAP

Are the tremors gone?

The tremors are gone. They went away while I was still in the hospital.


What about the things that brought you to surgery — swallowing, balance, thinking clarity?

Have I noticed improvement from the symptoms that brought me into surgery? Not really right off the bat. I kind of jumped from the pan into the fire. This surgery is about lifelong benefits, not immediate relief. Balance is improving from where it was right after surgery, and swallowing hasn't been as much of an issue as I expected. PT is going to help a lot with both.

Thinking clarity has been rough, but that's mostly the medication being disruptive. That's something I want to dive deeper into in a future post.

The short version is that recovery from this surgery isn't measured in days or weeks. It's months. Three to six months is where many people notice relief from headaches and pressure symptoms. Balance, swallowing, and coordination can lag behind. Six to twelve months is where meaningful neurological improvement tends to happen. I'm early. I'm moving in the right direction.


Spiritually, how are you feeling?

Honestly, this surgery has given me a lot of downtime, and I'm not good with downtime. It's pulled me away from Nashville, from Stonebridge, from my community group, and those things are what keep me anchored. Being away from Nashville has distanced me from that community, and I feel it.

One thought I've been wrestling with is that the devil didn't care what Job went through. He only cared about the sin Job was tempted by in the middle of it. I've been doing a lot of reflection on that.

Emotions are hard to regulate on nine medications. But I do think this trial will make me stronger. I'm still thankful for it. Still fighting the good fight.

"The devil didn't care what Job went through. He only cared about the sin Job was tempted by in the middle of it."

What does the scar look like?

Joe's surgical scar at the base of the skull — Day 15 post-op
The scar · Day 15 · Suboccipital craniectomy + C1 laminectomy.

Honestly, the scar looks amazing. The incision is incredibly clean, the sutures are evenly spaced, the closure is tight and well aligned. It's wild how precise it is.

I went into surgery thinking I'd have one scar. I ended up with four. Two on the sides of my head from the Mayfield clamp that held my head in place during surgery, one on top where they harvested the patch for the duraplasty, and the main incision at the base of my skull.


What's Coming Next

First things first, I'm getting my stitches out on the 16th. Still here in St. Louis with my family until after Easter, and honestly, I'm looking forward to every bit of this time with them. Hoping to see my little cousins on Friday. We'll also be continuing to taper off the nerve blockers and other medication, so that's ongoing.

Orders

The Site

I'll be posting one blog a week. The first is about something I find fascinating: how most of what's actually being communicated in healthcare has nothing to do with the words being said. Nonverbal cues, tone, body language, that's where the real information lives. I'll also be releasing a podcast episode every two weeks, covering things that genuinely interest me, like the history of disability within the military, and the recent changes to disability benefits for veterans.

Interviews — April

I think connecting with people is one of my God-given gifts. Already have a few lined up: a veteran navigating the VA with an Agent Orange diagnosis; a friend who was born premature, one of the youngest babies ever born in Missouri, was diagnosed with cancer in college, and just became a nurse; and a medical lab scientist from Wash U who never interacts with patients directly but has a profound impact on their care.

The Mission

I'm hopeful about how God has positioned me, honestly, over my whole lifetime, to carry the perspective I have going into this. I'm thankful for how these last few weeks have gone. But I'm still in it. The medications aren't gone, the symptoms haven't resolved, and the hardest parts of this recovery are probably still ahead.

If you've ever navigated a broken system alone, sat in a waiting room not knowing what came next, or watched someone you love fight something they couldn't name — this is for you too. I'm going to keep writing, keep growing, and keep you guys posted.

I'd be honored if you came along.


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