Leslee’s Recovery Journey:
Learning to Walk Again After Sudden Spinal Injury
Follow the real-time story of our beautiful mother, wife, and founder, 62-year-old Leslee, as she is rebuilding her life after something went wrong during a routine spinal injection. Her journey is raw, honest, painful, hopeful — and a reminder that strength comes in many forms.
Leslee's Recovery Blog
Check out Leslee’s Recovery Blog Series, written by Leslee herself. Each week she shares honest updates on her progress, the lessons our family is learning in real time, and the practical tips that have helped us navigate rehab, the ICU, insurance hurdles, mental health challenges, and everything in between. It’s raw, insightful, and full of heart—created to support anyone walking a similar path.
DAILY UPDATES
Walk with us through Leslee’s recovery journey. Each day brings new challenges—learning to walk again, managing heightened pain, and adjusting to a completely new way of moving through the world. There are difficult moments, of course, but also quiet victories, small breakthroughs, and reminders of her incredible courage and resilience. We’re grateful to share this journey with you.
HOW YOU CAN SUPPORT LESLEE
Leslee’s recovery will be long, unpredictable, expensive, and filled with emotional highs and lows. She’s facing months of medical care, rehabilitation, specialized equipment, and the day-to-day realities of adjusting to a new level of mobility. If you’d like to support her through this process, there are several meaningful ways to get involved.
DAILY UPDATES: WEEK 1 IN THE ICU
DAY 1: ICU
Today was all about MRI testing to better understand what happened and assess the extent of the injury. Mom is currently on norepinephrine, which helps maintain blood flow to the affected area and down into her lower extremities.She’s experiencing extremely intense nerve pain — a tight band of burning, aching discomfort around her upper thighs, groin, lower back, and lower abdomen. Even her skin is tender to the touch (good thing she's extra and already prefers silky, seamless underwear).
Her legs have regained some sensation, which is a positive sign, but her feet remain numb. She still can’t walk without significant hands-on support, and even then it requires immense focus and effort. Her body has essentially forgotten the automatic patterns involved in walking, so every movement has to be consciously created step by step. Hopefully we will get some answers today.
DAY 2: ICU
We didn’t get any clear answers from yesterday’s imaging, so today will be another full day of moving in and out of the MRI to try to capture the right angle of her spine and get a clearer picture of the injury. The numbness and pain remain the same, and she’s still on norepinephrine to support blood flow.
One bright spot has been her incredible PT team and the nurses caring for her. They’ve gone out of their way to keep her as comfortable as possible, give her space to cry when she needs it, and make sure she feels heard and validated. We’re deeply grateful for them.
DAY 3: ICU
The doctors have now confirmed what we suspected: Mom’s spine was punctured during the procedure, which likely caused a spinal stroke. The numbness and pain remain the same today, and she hasn’t made much progress with walking yet — but she is fighting hard and doing everything asked of her.
We also began telling family and close friends, and the outpouring of love has been overwhelming in the best way. We’re incredibly fortunate to have such a strong circle around her, and we’re very aware that not everyone facing something like this has that kind of support or advocacy.
Mom has understandably been in a state of shock, and tonight during the shift change with our night nurses, it finally hit her. She broke down, and I climbed into the bed with her and held her hand while she let it out. The nurses stood by quietly, patiently giving her space and comfort. They truly rock.
Y'all can ignore the awkward look on my face, dads skills includes taking real special candids.
DAY 4: ICU
We’re starting to come to terms with the reality that this will be a very long and challenging recovery, with no guaranteed outcome. She may remain as she is now, she may make a full recovery, or she may land somewhere in between. For now, we take it day by day.
Today’s small win: she received a PICC line, which replaces the painful IVs she had in both elbows. The PICC allows for safer delivery of the higher-dose norepinephrine she needs and helps reduce infection risk. Because of the increased dose, she’s also receiving daily heparin shots in her stomach to prevent clotting. She was very happy about the PICC line… much less thrilled about the shot.
The ICU team has been incredible — steady, compassionate and SO MUCH FUN. They continue to remind us that the best approach is one day at a time, and they’re doing everything they can to give her the strongest chance at recovery.
She will need to remain in the ICU for at least three more days. Current research suggests that a full seven-day window of this treatment protocol gives patients the best odds of minimizing additional damage and supporting potential recovery.
We’re also working on getting her into a specialized PT program here in the same hospital. If she qualifies, she’ll need to stay for at least another two weeks of intensive rehabilitation.
DAY 5: ICU
Today we got some encouraging news: the PT team confirmed that Mom is an excellent candidate for the specialized rehabilitation program we’ve been hoping for.
The head ICU doctors also told us they’ll do everything they can to help get her admitted. She hasn’t made any improvements yet with pain, numbness, or walking, but having a clear diagnosis and a concrete plan is doing wonders for her morale.
On a lighter note, we’re also working on a plan to help her still participate in a local holiday concert she was scheduled to sing in. Did we mention she sings? If you haven’t heard her yet, check out our YouTube channel — she’s incredible.
We’re also starting to look into home modifications to keep her safe and comfortable during recovery, and we’re putting together a list of outings, visits, and activities throughout the holiday season to help keep her spirits high and get her out of the house when she’s able.
DAY 6: ICU
Not many changes to report today. There’s still no improvement in her feet, pain levels, or ability to walk, but we’re hopeful she’ll be able to get into the specialized PT program she needs.
We’re also working on new content that will break down this type of injury, the treatment options available, and how to advocate for yourself or a loved one when navigating a medical crisis. If you have any tips, tools, products, or setup ideas that have helped you or someone you know through long-term recovery or mobility challenges, please share them below. We want to make sure we’re covering every angle and preparing as well as possible for what’s ahead.
DAY 7: ICU
Great news today: Mom has been officially accepted into the specialized physical therapy program we were hoping for. If all goes as planned, she’ll move up to that floor this weekend once she finishes her norepinephrine treatment.
From everything we’ve been told, the program will be intense and exhausting — but it’s also the best possible option for her type of injury. The environment on that floor is much lighter than the ICU (for obvious reasons). She’ll be able to wear her own clothes, decorate her room, and — maybe best of all — she won’t have her vitals checked every hour. A little more comfort and a little more normalcy will go a long way.
No improvement on her paralysis or pain but that is what PT and OT are for and she is definitely motivated!
DAY 8: ICU
Big milestone today: Mom was able to come off norepinephrine last night. The ICU team monitored her blood pressure closely this morning, and once they felt confident she was stable, they prepared her for the move to the 11th floor rehab center.
The nurses even let her press the button to turn off the medication herself — and we had a little celebration right there in the room. Around 4 PM, the PT team came down to escort her to her new room upstairs.
We’ll keep saying this because it’s true: the ICU nurses are absolute gold. From decorating her walker, to making her little bracelets, to giving her space to cry without a hint of judgment — they went above and beyond in every possible way. Their kindness changed this entire experience.
WE LOVE OUR NURSES
DAILY UPDATES: WEEK 2 - NEURO REHABILITATION
DAY 1: PHYSICAL & OCCUPATIONAL THERAPY
My first day of physical and occupational therapy was a total blur. We did what felt like a hundred different assessments—testing my balance, strength, coordination, and basically my ability to do almost everything I once did without thinking.
I already adore Katie, one of my physical therapists, even though she pushes me in ways that make me want to glare at her and hug her at the same time. She had me walking up and down the halls with my walker and even tackling a small flight of stairs. It took me ten full minutes to get up and down just three steps. Ten. But with patience (from both of us), I did it.
Neuro injuries are strange like that—every new obstacle feels like something my brain and body have to renegotiate. Sometimes it’s relearning, sometimes it’s reminding my muscles that they already knew how to do this once.
I’m nervous. I’m hopeful. And I’m ready to see what this week brings as we start working toward real, steady progress. One slow, stubborn step at a time.
DAY 2: PHYSICAL & OCCUPATIONAL THERAPY
Day 2 featured glamorous highlights like practicing laundry with a reacher, which Kellie captured forever on video with full butt-and-diaper glory thanks to the ongoing saga of Poopageddon. For the uninitiated, that’s what happens when meds and laxatives wage war and you lose. The nurses are so gracious, but for me it’s utter humiliation.
Then came the industrial-scale weigh-in, where I was rolled on like cargo: bedhead, ICU bloat, and eight extra pounds. I had to remind myself that’s eight pounds of infusions, constipation, breakfast, lunch, clothes, and a walker.
Walking practice was at turtle speed, with constant reminders to “shift and move” so my pelvis doesn’t revolt and the constipation cycle doesn’t continue. Through it all, the caregivers were endlessly patient, which is good because I was endlessly slow. We also had a vulnerable talk about showering naked in front of strangers, poopageddon incidents, and learning the figure-four move so I can put on socks without calling for backup.
I look like a wreck, but that’s just the way it is. On the plus side, I crushed the dexterity and grip strength tests, as there’s nothing wrong with these arms except the saggy bits I loathe seeing on video. And speaking of video, watching myself is brutal: melanoma scar puckering on my face, saggy arms, flat hair, makeup-free “I don’t give a damn” face. I cringe, but I’m showing it anyway because real life isn’t airbrushed.
DAY 3: PHYSICAL & OCCUPATIONAL THERAPY
PT was brought to you by Katie, mistress of pain, who strapped ankle weights on me and handed me ten-pound dumbbells in retaliation for some snarky remark that I may or may not have made. The only thing keeping me upright was her death grip on my waistband, while Kyle, the dark lord, heckled from the sidelines. I trudged up and down two flights of stairs, with and without rails (Katie threatening wedgies if I fell), then collapsed onto a too-low foam block where I had to meditate before my noodle legs could get me back up.
OT Dustin helped me get in and out of the shower with a shower simulation. Who knew I would need to practice even basic hygiene? Showers can be dangerous.
Round two of PT featured pelvic floor training, complete with grunting sound effects that added to my undeniable charm. Lunges with ankle weights nearly did me in, but I made them extra special with my ice princess arm movements.
Kyle begrudgingly admitted my balance was impressive, though I suspect he was just entertained. OT wrapped with a balance game and a walk, which was slower than molasses thanks to noodle legs, and by the time my evening helpers arrived (sister? sister-in-law? Niece? The details are fuzzy), I was so wiped I could barely keep my eyelids open. Hard PT makes for a good night's sleep for sure.
DAY 4: PHYSICAL & OCCUPATIONAL THERAPY
OT with Gavin meant picking up things with the reacher. And now the house rule is that nothing ever hits the floor again. Band work for legs and feet had me wondering if I’ll ever drive again or if I’m destined for permanent chauffeur service (my peeps all think they are superior drivers anyway). Hip and shoulder flexibility drills included my sexy javelin throw move, which sadly won’t earn me Olympic consideration but did make me feel like a little badass.
PT with Dakota was full of obstacle courses with me and my trusty walker showing off my squat skills, and then being tricked into doing the whole thing walker-free. I carried the Olympic torch (aka cone + ping pong ball) across what felt like a marathon, explained my “extra” hand movements (jazz hands forever), and practiced sideways, backwards, and foam-pad stepping. It felt like I was training for a very strange dance competition. My daughter says I dance like the prancercise lady (which is rude and untrue), so I guess the definition of strange is relative.
The big gym windows have inspiring mountain views but sometimes I close my eyes to psych myself up. My concentration face (or resting b#*!ch face) is intense, but mobility is serious business, people!
DAY 5: THANKSGIVING
This was the strangest Thanksgiving ever. The only activity we had was bingo with some of the other inmates, who I’ve gotten to know through group therapy. They are all in rehab for various neurological issues caused by stroke, disease, and accidents.
It is very humbling to see so many very difficult scenarios people are facing. Anyway everyone seemed to enjoy the bingo, and I won a pretty cup. Bingo was followed by a somewhat disappointing Thanksgiving dinner. Dave, Kellie and I were brought trays in my room, and I’ll just say the regular food service chefs were out for the holiday and we could tell.
My beloved sister saved the day by sending over some homemade potatoes and gravy and a chocolate caramel pie, even though she was hosting twenty people at her house. I can add that a few days later my sweet friend Emily brought me some homemade rolls and jam with butter that were so delicious! After our thanksgiving dinner Kellie went home and Dave and I had a nap. So all in all a weird but relaxing holiday.
DAY 6: PHYSICAL & OCCUPATIONAL THERAPY
Today Katie came to get me for PT with three pound ankle weights AND a weighted vest. Do you remember her official title “Mistress of Pain?” Yeah. She fully earns it. So it was that with all my weighty accouterments I traversed the halls and the PT gym with only Katie’s hand on my waistband.
In the gym she gave me hiking poles and I practiced (with limited success) moving my arms while walking, and going forward and backward. When she was counting a beat it was easier for me to do it, because I got music in my soul.
In the afternoon I was piled into a hospital car with Katie, Kyle and Dustin, and we drove thirty minutes to my home for a home visit. There we were met by Dave and Kellie, and everyone followed me around the house while I tried to navigate various rooms and tasks. Everything was great with new rails and safety mats, but I couldn’t get into the half bath or the pantry with my walker (I MUST be able to access chocolate chips!).
It was also very precarious trying to go in and out of the front entrance with the steps and whatnot. I'm not allowed to go outside by myself for the foreseeable future. We drove back to the hospital and I once again collapsed in my bed, all the weights and visit tasks having taken their toll.
Trying to do PT AND real life is exhausting!
DAY 7: PHYSICAL & OCCUPATIONAL THERAPY
My last day of in-hospital therapy (I need at least a month but insurance won't pay for it) started with assessment tests. The balance tests were full of sarcasm and hilarity from the usuals: Katie, Kyle, and Dave, BUT, I got a score of 52 out of 56. My first day score was 21 out of 56. So much progress! Dave thought it was hilarious when tall Katie had to spot me by kneeling down and called me a Hobbit. I prefer sparkle flower fairy, thank you very much.
Next came timed walking with my walker and timed stairs, both of which were vast improvements over my original scores. Open up the champagne! Just kidding. Strictly not allowed.
Finally, we did cane training, which at first was slow and go, but got better. On the way back to my room Katie told me to cane walk with a beat, but I did her one better. I made up a cane walk song and practically cane danced to my bed. Good thing my nurse had chased me down earlier with pain meds! Because, alas, there is more to this injury than mobility problems.
While my mobility has greatly improved, the pain and lack of sensation has not (frowny face).
DAY 8: GOING HOME
Today was bittersweet. I’m incredibly relieved to be home—surrounded by my own things, able to shower and change without someone walking in unannounced, and finally able to eat something that tastes like comfort instead of a cafeteria mystery. Being in my own space feels like a small kind of healing all on its own. But there’s another side to today.
The reality is that I genuinely do need more time in a specialized facility to rebuild the mobility and strength I’ve lost. And like so many people discover, health insurance rarely aligns with actual human needs. It’s infuriating, disheartening, and unfortunately far too common.
Still—I’m deeply grateful for the time I did get. Many people never have access to the level of care I was fortunate enough to receive, and I don’t take that for granted for a second.
Today was focused on settling in and making sure the house is set up in a way that makes daily life safer and easier—for me, and for the caregivers (yes, plural) who are helping me navigate this next chapter.
We’re taking it one day at a time. One adjustment at a time. One victory at a time. The work isn’t done—not even close—but we’re home, we’re prepared, and we’re ready to keep fighting forward.
Capturing the Good Moments
How You Can Support Leslee and family
CHEER LESLEE ON
Research consistently shows that people facing long-term recovery have better outcomes when they’re surrounded by strong support and good patient advocacy. If you feel inclined, please leave an encouraging, uplifting, or even funny message or video to help cheer Leslee on. We also welcome any tips, tools, or products that have helped you or someone you love through a similar experience. Your support truly makes a difference.
FOLLOW ALONG
Each week, we’ll send out a newsletter and blog post to keep everyone updated on Leslee’s recovery. We’ll share her progress, what we’re discovering through the process, insights from her care team, and anything that’s been especially helpful or encouraging. It’s our way of keeping loved ones, supporters, and anyone walking a similar path connected and informed.
“Tell them I’m not giving up. Tell them I plan to walk, prance and dance again. And tell them thank you for caring.”
Andrew Harris
-Leslee
