Why I Needed an Anterior Lumbar Interbody Fusion
For more than a decade, my lower back controlled my life. The pain started back in 2010 and slowly grew worse over the years. I saw countless doctors, tried physical therapy, injections, and medications—each one promised relief but ended up being nothing more than a bandaid.
By 2024, I could barely function. The pain ran from my lower back down through my left leg, into my foot, sometimes leaving it numb or shaky. Every step reminded me something deeper was wrong. I knew I couldn’t live that way anymore.
That’s when I found Dr. Miles at Columbia Orthopedic Group and Dr. Salinas, vascular surgeon, both in Columbia, Missouri. They took my case seriously. After thorough testing and imaging, they discovered the real issue: my L5-S1 dischad completely failed. The only real fix left was an anterior lumbar interbody fusion (ALIF) with hardware and a new disc.
When I finally heard those words—surgery will fix the problem—it was both terrifying and relieving. I wasn’t crazy. The pain was real. And at 32 years old, I had one more fight left in me.
The Surgery Itself — What Really Happens
On October 22nd (2025) I went in for surgery. The official name for what I had done is a mouthful:
Anterior Lumbar Interbody Fusion with Anterior Instrumentation and Posterolateral Fusion with Percutaneous Pedicle Screws, Lumbar 5–Sacral 1.
In plain English: they went in through the front of my lower belly, moved organs and muscles aside to reach the front of my spine, removed the damaged disc, inserted a new one, and stabilized it with screws and rods placed from the back.
That meant two incisions—one on my lower abdomen, one on my back. The vascular surgeon made the front cut, carefully avoiding major blood vessels. Then my orthopedic spine surgeon did the fusion and hardware placement. The whole operation lasted around three hours, followed by a few hours in recovery.
I woke up groggy, sore, and hooked to more lines and tubes than I expected. I had a catheter, IV lines, and pain medication running constantly. The catheter removal definitely burned, and yes—it burned again the first few times I tried to pee afterward. Nobody warns you how bad that part stings.
Still, the relief of waking up alive and hearing “surgery went perfectly” from my doctor made the pain worth it.
If you want to follow my entire journey, I’ve been documenting my real spine surgery recovery story over at SpineRecover.com for anyone preparing for an L5-S1 fusion or dealing with similar back issues.
The First 48 Hours After Surgery
Nothing—and I mean nothing—could have prepared me for how much my belly would hurt. Everyone talks about back pain after spinal fusion, but when your spine is accessed from the front, your abdominal muscles are brutally sore and tight. It felt like a deep internal pull every time I tried to sit, stand, or even adjust in bed.
I learned very quickly that using your stomach muscles for anything—getting up, coughing, sneezing—hurts like hell. The first two days were mostly survival mode. I was tired, dizzy, and my incision area burned sharply when I moved even slightly wrong.
My back pain was also intense, but it felt different—deeper and sharper, which made sense because the surgeon worked right where my old pain had lived for years. Oddly, that gave me hope. It felt like the right spot had finally been fixed, even if the healing pain was worse at the moment.
Constipation kicked in fast, which I expected after anesthesia and pain meds. It’s uncomfortable, but it’s a real part of spine surgery recovery that nobody should ignore. Stool softeners helped a little, but walking (when I could tolerate it) made the biggest difference. The first few steps felt like miles, but I knew every small movement mattered.
By day two, I was more alert, but the exhaustion hit hard. I slept in short bursts and focused on breathing through pain, knowing this was the very start of my long anterior lumbar interbody fusion recovery.
Managing Pain and Constipation After Spine Surgery
I’ll be honest—pain management is tricky. You want relief, but pain meds also cause constipation, dizziness, and brain fog. I learned the hard way that skipping doses doesn’t make you tough—it just makes movement unbearable and delays healing.
I kept a schedule: pain meds on time, stool softeners twice a day, and as much water as I could sip. For constipation, walking, hydration, and gentle stretching were my best allies. Avoid forcing bowel movements; it just makes abdominal pain worse, especially after a front incision.
I also learned small hacks that made life easier—using a grabber tool to pick things up, keeping a pillow on my lap for pressure relief when coughing, and using a raised toilet seat to reduce bending.
Emotionally, the hardest part is the helpless feeling. Every small movement hurts, and your independence vanishes overnight. But I kept reminding myself: this pain has a purpose. For the first time in years, I wasn’t numbing symptoms—I was healing the actual problem.
I’ve shared more detailed updates, daily progress, and simple survival tips on SpineRecover.com if you’re preparing for your own L5-S1 spinal fusion recovery journey and want honest, firsthand guidance.
The Emotional Side of Recovery
Physical pain is one thing — emotional recovery is another. I quickly realized how humbling spine surgery is. I’m used to being independent, working hard, and pushing through pain, but after this surgery, I had no choice but to rely on others for everything.
It’s not just the physical weakness — it’s the emotional hit of feeling trapped inside your own body. You can’t drive, can’t bend, can’t lift, and even rolling over in bed takes effort. I felt frustrated, helpless, and honestly, a bit scared.
But every day, I kept reminding myself why I did this. I went through this surgery because I wanted my life back. I wanted to walk without pain, sleep through the night, and not dread getting out of bed. That’s what kept me pushing forward.
I also found comfort in small progress — like the first time I walked down the hallway, or when I could sit up on my own for a few seconds without feeling like my stomach was ripping open. Those moments reminded me that healing isn’t linear, but it is happening.
For anyone reading this going through a similar journey — it’s okay to cry, it’s okay to rest, and it’s okay to admit that this is hard. Recovery is messy, painful, and slow, but it’s also proof that your body is doing something incredible: rebuilding.
Tips I’d Give Anyone Preparing for Lumbar Fusion Surgery
If you’re facing this kind of surgery soon, here are the real, practical tips I wish someone had told me before my L5-S1 spinal fusion:
- Prepare your recovery space early. You’ll want everything within reach — water, snacks, remote, charger, medications, and a grabber tool.
- Get a pillow or cushion for your belly. It helps support your incision when you cough, sneeze, or move.
- Buy a raised toilet seat. Bending after an anterior approach is brutal — this simple thing makes a huge difference.
- Stock up on stool softeners and stay hydrated. Constipation after anesthesia is no joke.
- Walk — even short distances. It helps circulation, prevents stiffness, and jumpstarts healing.
- Sleep in whatever position hurts least. For me, slightly reclined with a pillow under my knees was best.
- Don’t skip your pain meds. Healing requires movement, and movement requires manageable pain levels.
- Be patient with your body. You can’t rush fusion — it’s a slow biological process that needs time.
Most importantly, don’t compare your recovery to others. Everyone heals differently depending on their body, pain tolerance, and the extent of their surgery.
I’ve shared more first-hand advice and my day-by-day updates on SpineRecover.com for anyone looking for real spine surgery recovery tips from a patient who’s been there.
Two Surgeries in One Year — Neck and Back
This wasn’t my first time under the knife. In July 2024, I had another fusion — this time in my neck at C5-C6. That surgery fixed nerve pain that ran down my arm and into my fingers. Compared to the lumbar fusion, the neck surgery recovery was easier — uncomfortable but nowhere near as intense.
When I had my anterior lumbar interbody fusion in October, I quickly realized this was a completely different level. The belly incision alone changes everything — you use your core for nearly every motion your body makes. Even standing requires those muscles, and they’re all healing at once.
Still, having both surgeries done means my spine is finally stable from top to bottom. My hope is that I’ll never need another. Both surgeons explained that doing the neck first helped prepare my posture and alignment for the lower spine procedure.
I’m only 32, but I’ve now lived through two spinal fusions in a matter of months. If my story can help someone else avoid fear or frustration during their spine surgery recovery timeline, then sharing this journey is worth every word I write.
Looking Forward — My Hopes for Healing
Right now, I’m just a few days post-op and still in a world of pain — but it’s the kind of pain that feels like it’s leading somewhere. The deep, familiar ache that haunted me for years feels different now. It’s surgical, not structural, and I take that as a sign of progress.
My biggest hope is simple: to live without that constant, radiating nerve pain down my leg and into my foot. I want to walk, bend, and move like a normal person again. My doctors believe this surgery fixed the root problem, and I’m holding on to that hope tightly.
I know recovery won’t be quick. Fusion takes time — often 6 to 12 months before full healing. But I’m committed to doing everything right: following restrictions, walking daily, and letting my body rebuild at its own pace.
If you’re reading this because you’re about to have the same surgery, or you’re in the early stages of recovery, just know this — it’s brutal, but it’s not hopeless. Your body will heal, and the life waiting on the other side of this pain is worth it.
You can keep up with my latest recovery updates and future progress on SpineRecover.com — where I’ll continue sharing what I learn, what works, and what I wish I had known before this journey began.
Life After Leaving the Hospital
Walking out of the hospital felt like freedom mixed with fear. I’d waited years for that moment, yet all I could think about was how fragile I felt. Every bump in the road on the way home sent a bolt of pain through my lower belly and back. Even sitting in the car seat was a challenge because it forced my incision area to stretch and tighten.
Once home, reality set in. My house suddenly felt like an obstacle course. Every movement needed planning—how to sit, how to stand, where to grab support. I set up a “command station” in my living room with everything I needed nearby: meds, water, snacks, my phone, the TV remote, and a pillow for my belly.
The first few nights were rough. I couldn’t sleep on my side like I used to, and lying flat pulled on my stomach incision. I found comfort sleeping slightly upright, using extra pillows and a recliner when I could. Slowly, I learned how to roll without twisting my spine. These tiny victories—like finding a comfortable position—felt like major milestones in my spine surgery recovery journey.
The Challenge of Patience and Mental Strength
I knew healing would take time, but nobody warns you how mentally draining it is. I’m used to fixing things fast—get hurt, recover, move on. This surgery doesn’t work that way. Fusion recovery is a long game.
There were days I felt like I was sliding backward instead of forward. My belly would tighten, my back would ache, and frustration hit hard. I had to remind myself that bones don’t fuse overnight; the healing process takes months. I learned to celebrate progress in smaller doses—less swelling, more stability, fewer pain spikes.
I also leaned on others more than I ever thought I would. Friends, family, and my online support community kept me grounded. Hearing from people on the SpineRecover Facebook page reminded me that I wasn’t alone. There’s something powerful about connecting with people who understand your pain and cheer for your wins, no matter how small.
What Surprised Me Most About This Surgery
I went into this surgery thinking the pain afterward would be mostly in my back. It wasn’t. The belly incision pain was far worse at first. That’s what nobody tells you. Every laugh, sneeze, or cough feels like a knife under your ribs. It took a good week before I could stand up straight again without feeling like my stomach was going to rip open.
Another surprise? How fast muscle fatigue sets in. Even short walks around the house wore me out completely. I had to sit often and breathe through the tension. I learned that healing isn’t just about getting stronger—it’s about pacing yourself and trusting your body to guide you.
And the nerves—those weird zaps and tingling sensations that shoot down your leg—can be intense. They scared me at first, but my surgeon explained that it’s a sign nerves are waking back up after being compressed for so long. It’s uncomfortable, but it means progress.
My Relationship With Pain Has Changed
Before surgery, pain felt endless. It owned me. Every day revolved around trying to ignore it or mask it. Now, pain feels different. It’s purposeful. I can tell the difference between healing pain and destructive pain.
The surgical pain has edges—it spikes, fades, and moves depending on how I sit or walk. But underneath it, that deep, chronic, burning ache I lived with for years has started to fade. That’s a feeling I can’t describe properly. It gives me hope that the surgery really fixed what needed fixing.
I’ve stopped fighting pain like an enemy and started treating it as feedback. My body’s way of saying “go slower,” “rest,” or “good job, you stretched something that needed it.” That shift in mindset changed everything about how I’m handling L5-S1 spinal fusion recovery.
A Message to Anyone Living With Spine Pain
If you’ve lived with back pain for years and keep getting brushed off like I did—don’t give up. Keep searching for the right doctor, the one who listens and digs deeper. I lost too many years trusting “quick fixes” that never addressed the root cause.
Surgery isn’t for everyone, but for me, it was the only way forward. I’m not healed yet, but I already know this pain feels different—it’s progress, not punishment.
I’m sharing this so you know what to expect from a real spinal fusion experience—not the sugar-coated version, but the real thing. You’ll hurt, you’ll cry, you’ll get angry, but you’ll also rise again stronger than before.
And when you do, you’ll finally understand what I mean when I say: it’s not just a surgery; it’s a second chance.
If my story helps even one person feel less afraid, then it’s worth every word. You can keep following my recovery updates and daily insights at SpineRecover.com or connect with me and others who are healing on the SpineRecover Facebook page.
Where I Am Now — and What’s Next
As I write this, I’m still in the thick of recovery. Some moments I feel hopeful, and others I question everything. But I keep reminding myself—this is exactly what recovery looks like. It’s not clean or easy. It’s a mix of pain, progress, fear, and faith.
The hardest part now is patience. The fusion process takes months, and I can’t rush it. My job is to rest, walk, breathe, and trust my body to do what it’s designed to do. Every day that I can stand a little straighter, walk a few more steps, or sleep a little longer without waking in pain feels like a win.
My hope is that sharing my experience helps someone else who’s about to face the same journey. Whether you’re preparing for surgery, living with constant back pain, or recovering from a lumbar fusion, I want you to know that what you’re feeling is valid—and you’re not alone.
Recovery isn’t just physical. It’s mental, emotional, and spiritual. Some days you’ll feel broken, but the truth is, your body is rebuilding in ways you can’t see yet. Give yourself grace. Healing takes time, but the results are worth every difficult moment.
You can follow more of my real updates, tips, and honest progress through my SpineRecover.com blog, or connect with me personally on the SpineRecover Facebook page where I share smaller daily updates, insights, and encouragement for anyone walking this same road.
If even one person reads this and feels more prepared, less afraid, or a little more hopeful, then this pain will have meant something.
For now, I’ll keep walking—slowly, carefully, and with faith that every step forward brings me closer to living pain-free again which I haven’t experienced since I was around 16-17 years old in 2010.
