A Baby Story, Part 12: What To Do?

Later that afternoon (the afternoon of the day that we were moved downstairs), I was visited by an anesthesiologist that I had not previously met. He had come to discuss the option of a blood patch to deal with my spinal headache. He was incredibly kind and compassionate. We spent quite a bit of time talking in detail about where and how I felt the pain in my head, how it differed from my migraines, what treatments had already been done (the hydrocortisone and lots of caffeine), and what I knew about wet taps and blood patches. 

He very patiently explained how the wet tap had happened (I already knew, but it was helpful to hear again) and how the blood patch works (click the link above to read what wikipedia has to say about blood patches and how they work). At this point, it had been 48 hours since the wet tap happened, and he suggested I wait the recommended 72 hours to see if I really needed/wanted a blood patch. He did that thing that they all do, where they give the disclaimer that, in most every case, a blood patch works, but occasionally, one won't. Included in the disclaimer was a little comment that, yes, it is possible for another wet tap to happen when receiving a blood patch.

After he left, I told Brad how wary I was of getting the blood patch. I'd already had 6 major sticks in the spine, and the disclaimer of the blood patch not working or even causing another wet tap was almost too much for me to deal with. I just didn't think I could do it. I know that it had a reputation for almost instantaneous relief, but it sounded like a gamble to me- one that would involve a good deal of pain, whether or not it worked.

Like the good husband he is, he told me he wouldn't push me either way, and if I didn't want to do it, that was fine with him. 

The rest of the day passed much like the day before: my parents came and spent the afternoon/evening with us, we spent time with our little Bear, we discussed the blood patch option (Mom had had one that was very successful and Dad knows things because, well, he's a doctor) and everyone distracted me from the headache, in general.

Nighttime came again, though, and with it a lot of difficulty. I woke up around 2:00 a.m. with a wretched surprise: I had a migraine behind my left eye. So, in addition to the debilitating pain from the spinal headache when I was anything but horizontal, I now had a pounding migraine even in my flat-on-back position. I paged the nurse with frantic requests for something to put me out of my misery. I think they maybe gave me something, but I definitely know it wasn't strong enough. They loaded me up with more caffeine, and I prayed to high heaven that the Lord would either do something about my head or just go ahead and take me. I was past the point of being able to handle the pain. 

Oh, and I started crying (thank you, hormones), which made the situation even better. And by "better," I mean much worse. Much much worse. 

The next morning was my Day of Reckoning. I had to use the bathroom pretty soon after waking up (an activity I put off as long as I could each time) and had Brad help me get to the bathroom (you can read through previous posts to refresh your memory about what an ordeal that was). 

It was absolutely the lowest point in my recent world of pain. I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. And then I told Brad to get the nurse on the phone with Anesthesiology pronto. Or "stat," I guess...we were in a hospital. I would get the blood patch. My only condition was that they needed to know there was no way I could walk or even ride, sitting up, in a wheelchair to the pain clinic. Also, I wanted Brad with me.