Most mere mortals waddle through life resigned to their medical lot: aches, pains and sicknesses that increase in severity over time, until the body’s initial promise – of physical freedom – curdles into the miserable certainty of bodily imprisonment.
We imagine a lovelier fate awaits world-class athletes, whose bodies are seemingly born on a higher plane of grace, and like angels appear able – with every jump, leap and breath – to loosen human potential from the laws of physics.
So it was especially poignant to hear Bill Walton, the basketball legend, pro-player and hall of famer, tell a crowd of 200 at the DoubleTree Hotel on Thursday night that just a few years ago, his back pain became so excruciating and incessant he contemplated ending his own life.
“I didn’t want to live,” he said.
“I lived with the foot, leg and spinal pain, and just thought that was the way it was. Then, in February 2008, I got off an airplane, and I couldn’t move. The pain was like being submerged in a vat of scalding acid that had an electric current running through it, and I could never get out. If I had, had a gun, I would have killed myself,” he said.
Born with a degenerative defect, Walton underwent his first surgery – a knee operation – at 14 years old. The ensuing decades were a blur of college and professional basketball glory – he won two NCAA championships, two NBA titles and the NBA’s coveted honor of MVP of the year – punctuated by soul-crushing pain.
As his feet, wrists, legs, and spine kept fracturing, breaking and fusing, Walton underwent 37 surgeries. He ceased imagining a better future and simply assumed his days would unfurl in an endless, ever swifter, cycle of pain and anguish.
Then he found redemption, which came to him in a form he’d never expected: eXtreme Lateral Interbody Fusion spinal surgery, a minimally invasive procedure that Walton, demoralized by the unrelenting succession of surgeries he’d already undergone, had previously feared.
He said the procedure saved his life.
“I had no idea that what life was like without back pain. But now that I’m back, it’s a miracle,” he said.
The crowd sat rapt as the former center regaled it with the works being done by his foundation, Back in the Game, which promotes education about spinal surgery.
Indeed, Walton’s chemistry with his audience was palpable and somewhat reminiscent of the ecstatic bond achieved by televangelists and congregations looking for eternal salvation.
Unlike Jesus – a solution to human woe that hasn’t changed much in two millennia – Walton said the fix he was promoting – spinal surgery – has evolved tremendously in the last decade, becoming more sophisticated, safe and effective in addressing all manner spinal problems.
“These tools have revolutionized our entire world, and the same revolution is going on in spine health,” he said, comparing old spinal surgeries to rotary phones and new spinal surgeries like XLIF to the iPhone.
Throughout his talk, Walton repeatedly invoked Durango physicians Dr. Jim Youssef and Dr. Douglas Orndorff, who work at the Spine Center of Excellence at Mercy Regional Medical Center, as reasons for audience members to hold out hope that their pack pain wasn’t a life sentence.
After Walton finished his solo, three other patients of Youssef and Orndorff offered testimonials of their surgeries’ successes.
But Walton, who is clearly versed in the canon of motivational and inspirational speaking – at one point name-checking his college coach John Wooden’s Pyramid of Success – was careful to buttress every epiphany with a joke, defusing every jeremiad, sermonizing flourish with practical advice.
At one point, he began riffing about a favorite subject – the vital importance of listening to music of Jerry Garcia and Bob Dylan to living a happy life – before stopping himself.
“You all aren’t here to talk about Garcia and Dylan. You’re here because your backs are killing you,” he said.
