A Baby Story, Part 13: Big Ouch

A fairly short time later, two folks from the pain clinic (two very nice folks, I might add) came to my room and told me they would be taking me to the pain clinic- by rolling me down in my hospital bed, so I wouldn't have to walk or ride sitting up. I kept my eyes closed the whole way, so I have no idea how far away the pain clinic was. Brad was with me and might even have been holding my hand...I don't actually remember that part.

When we got there, the nurses were incredibly kind and compassionate. Someone even got a towel to put over my eyes so that the really bright lights wouldn't hurt my head any worse. Yet another anesthesiologist came by shortly to talk to us and explain the procedure yet again. Because of the severity of my headache that morning, I'd summoned enough courage to get myself into place for the blood patch; once we were down there and waiting on it, though, I started feeling nervous and anxious about more "work" on my spine.

When it came time for me to go have my procedure, I had to go through the difficult process of moving from my bed onto a gurney. They did break the news to me that, yet again, Brad would not be allowed to go into the room with me. It was probably good they didn't tell me until the last moment; I probably would have lost my nerve. The nursing student who was with me for the day (of course I had another nursing student) would be allowed but not Brad. At least I liked that day's student.

Things were a little complicated by my c-section; blood patches are usually performed while the patient is lying on his or her stomach, which was not possible with my incision and sutures. They put me on my side and I found myself rather disconcerted, again, by the discussion going on around me. This time, it was regarding how difficult a time they were going to have because of having me on my side. It just does not inspire confidence in a patient to hear the physician performing a procedure discussing how difficult he thought it would be. Goodness.

After general prep, the doctor explained that I would feel a "big pinch" and a "big sting," two phrases I had grown to loathe. When someone says those things, you are guaranteed pain. Which happened. I gritted my teeth and tried to focus on anything but my back. It hurt...hurt some more...kept hurting...then I heard him mutter that it hadn't worked and he would try again. Of course.

I closed my eyes when he started again. Someone ( a nurse, I guess) squeezed my hand in sympathy. I felt the "big pain" and the other "big pain" again, hoping that it would be over soon.

No such luck. It hadn't worked again. I started crying ever so slightly and trying desperately not to get caught doing so.

Ew coming up: He picked another spot on my spine and went for it once more. Thankfully, it took. He instructed the assistant who was positioned in front of me to start taking blood. She did. A lot. They have to take blood on the spot for the procedure, and the anesthesiologist began filling my wet tap puncture. He put in three rounds (25 cc's, if that means anything to anybody) before he felt it was complete. The frustrating element of this part was that he would insert blood until I told him that it was painful. So three times, I got to the point of intense pain before he stopped and reloaded with more blood. By the time he was finished, it wasn't a secret that I was crying.

The rolled me back to my hospital bed and helped me back onto it. The doctor explained things to Brad, while I was given instructions to stay on my back until dinner (as if I'd been doing anything else). Everyone wished me luck, and they took me back to my room.

I followed the flat-on-back instructions until evening, at which point I definitely felt better. I still had a headache, but I made it to the bathroom without crying and took a two-minute shower (my first in an ungodly number of days) before heading back to my bed to talk about how awesome it was not to be in excruciating pain.

It was such a nice reprieve...for about two hours.