Don't Call Me Sweetie

I’ve gotten headaches for as long as I can remember. Starting in college, they became migraines. About a year after graduation, they became so intense, I finally went to a doctor. She prescribed me magical pills that would end the migraine in a couple hours. After having these headaches for such a long period of time, I sort of thought I was pretty tough. After all, if I could survive a two day migraine, surely I could deal with anything. Right? I thought so, but I was dead wrong.

It all started a few months ago. I had been having back pain that was shooting down my legs, all the way to my toes. I tried ibuprofen, chiropractors, an inversion table, and just ignoring the pain, but nothing seemed to help. I didn’t want to go to the doctor, because I felt like, at 27, I am too young to be having serious back issues. Yeah, I work with 1500 pound race horses that try to kill me sometimes, so what? Okay, I lift 50-100 pound objects on a daily basis, what’s that got to do with my back? Yep, those untrained colts occasionally try to run away and I have to ski behind them like a water skier who forgot about the water part, but I’m still too young to go see a doctor about back issues. Right?

Oddly enough, ignoring the back pain didn’t make it go away, so I finally broke down and went to a doctor who specializes in back pain. After an insanely expensive MRI, he determined I have two herniated disks and one torn disk in my lower back. He recommended an epidural steroid injection. I was pretty nervous, but it actually wasn’t bad. The next day I felt fantastic. The day after that I felt awful. What the hell? It only lasted a day?

Upon hearing this, the doctor suggested a different type of injection. He swore it was one injection, but it involved three needles in my back. I’m not a doctor, but I’m going to go ahead and call that three injections. Whatever it was, this one hurt like hell. The next day my back was bruised and sore. To top it off the back pain wasn’t gone. The doctor seemed unfazed, and decided on a three injection epidural series over the following six weeks.

The first injection was on a Wednesday. I had to have Shane drive me because of the numbing stuff they use. The lidocaine shot hurt a bit, but not bad, and it meant I couldn’t feel the big needle. Unfortunately, he couldn’t get the needle seated correctly due to a strange blood vessel that was in the way. He had to start over in a new spot. Same result. He said to the technician, “Lets try this one more time, but this time lets go in caudally” I prayed that the word caudal meant something different in human medicine than it does in horse medicine.

Sadly, it means the same thing, and the last needle went in by my tailbone and was threaded all the way up to the injection site. It. Hurt. Oh my God, it hurt. I didn’t cry, because I was already embarrassed by the vulnerable position you get to lay in for these injections (If you’ve never had one, the position is face-down, ass-out, and then the doctor chit-chats with you while you’re lying bare-assed on the table and he’s casually stabbing you in the back).

Once I made it out of the doctor’s office though, I cried. I didn’t even make it to the elevator. Shane guided my teary, numb-ass self to the truck and headed home. About half-way home, it hit. The front of my head felt like it was going to fall off. It wasn’t a migraine, it was unlike any headache I’d ever had. It quickly spread up my forehead, and over the top of my skull. I laid my seat back and used my hands to physically hold my head together for the rest of the ride home. When I got out of the truck I felt dizzy, and sick. We’ve been having record amounts of rain and my yard is underwater. I was trying to find a dry path while holding my head with one hand and my back with the other hand. I must have looked super pathetic because Shane walked over and scooped me up and carried me to the porch. He’s a keeper. I climbed into bed and didn’t get up for the rest of the day.

The next morning, I had a little headache, but I still went to work. I was bound and determined not to miss any work. I was shocked and pleased to discover my back felt great. It worked, it finally worked. Shane had left to go do some job training and visit family in Austin; about two hours away, so I was working without him. I had the headache all day. I worked the best I could, but I felt awful. Around 4pm I broke down and called the doctor’s office. They told me the doctor was out of town, but said it was called a spinal headache. Apparently, on occasion, some spinal fluid will leak out after an injection. This causes a change in the pressure around your brain, which causes the headache. They said the cure was to lay flat (to equalize the pressure) and drink lots of caffeine (no idea why). I went home and did just that. It felt fine when I was laying down, so I thought it was all going to be okay.

Friday morning I went to work. The pain was a little sharper, but I was drinking a lot of caffeine and trying to take it easy. Around noon I called the doctor’s office. They told me if it still wasn’t better I needed to go to the Emergency Room. Screw that, I’m not a sissy, I’ll be fine. Two hours later I was willing to admit to sissy status. I drove home to change and passed out for about 30 minutes. When I woke up, I drove myself to the ER. This was probably the dumbest thing I have ever done. My head was pounding, my vision was swimming, and I was shaking.

After waiting for what seemed like a million years in a hard blanket-less ER bed, they told me they were going to run me fluids and pain meds to help with the headache. They couldn’t let me drive home after so I had to call my friend Jamie and make her drive all the way to the ER. I was pretty much high as a kite by the time she got there. My head hurt like hell, but I didn’t care. My family was concerned and texting me, but I couldn’t type much because the phone hurt my eyes and the drugs made me tired. I was shivering like an idiot. Jamie gave me my coat because, in my drug induced haze, that solution hadn’t occurred to me.

Shane kept calling and saying he’d come back. I kept telling him to stay in Austin, I’d be fine. The doctor came in and said she couldn’t get in touch with my back doctor (he was still out of town), but that I needed to rest all weekend, and follow up with him on Monday. She said if it wasn’t better by Monday, they’d do a procedure called a blood patch where they take blood from your arm and inject it in your spine. Okay, crazy lady, that is absolutely not happening. Jamie took me and my prescription for Tylenol with codeine home and I climbed into bed and passed out.

A couple hours later Shane showed up. Thank God. The next two days were just plain annoying. I couldn’t stand up without pain, but felt okay laying down, which made me want to get up… It was a ridiculous cycle. I wanted to go to work, but I didn’t. Jamie and Shane coordinated to get my truck back from the ER. I tried to go with them, but I didn’t even make it out of the driveway before it hurt too bad. My arms were sore from having to hold my head together for so long. Poor Shane waited on me hand and foot for the entire weekend. He also yelled at me to get back in bed whenever he caught me up. I stayed still because I was determined to go to work on Monday.

Monday rolled around and I went to work. The pain in my head was even sharper, but I didn’t think codeine and horses would mix well so I just took ibuprofen. The ranch owners were coming the following day so I needed to get the stallions cleaned up. Shane was going to help me. In actuality, Shane did 100% of the work and I sat on a bench holding my head to keep my brains from falling out. My biggest accomplishment was trimming the whiskers off exactly one horse before needing to sit down again. At 10am I threw in the towel and headed home. I made it halfway there before the dizziness got to me, and I had to pull over on the side of the road and throw up. Shane stayed and did my job for me, he came home and checked on me. He called the doctor for me and set up an appointment for the following day (The doctor was still out of town on Monday).

My plan for Tuesday was to go in, in the morning when the owners were there, and then go to the doctor. That plan changed the nanosecond my alarm went off. There was a knife inside my brain. The pain was blinding. I wasn’t dizzy, I was just in pure pain. I have had two foot surgeries, multiple impressive injuries, a tonsillectomy, wisdom teeth removed, shingles, etc., and I have never experienced pain like this. The first thing out of my mouth was, “I can’t go to work.” The second thing was vomit. I couldn’t move without throwing up from the pain.

I had Shane go into work for me to take care of a few things. He did, and then came right home. When he saw my face, he called the doctor and said we were on our way. My eyes were black, and my face had no other color to it. The walk to the truck was agonizing. I could only walk about 10 feet and then I’d start dry heaving. Every bump on the way there felt like an earthquake in my head. I got to the doctor’s office and sat down in the waiting room. I think I lasted about 45 seconds before I felt the heaves coming on. I asked Shane to ask for a trash can, he did and was told that if I could wait a few minutes longer, they’d get me in a room.

I couldn’t wait. I bolted out into the hallway and dry heaved into one of those big disgusting trash cans. Here’s some solid life advice: if you’re ever tired of waiting in a waiting room, just start throwing up. As soon as I walked back in, I was taken back to a room. The people that had been waiting longer had no problems letting me go first because they didn’t want to catch whatever I had. At the time, I didn’t appreciate how funny that part was. We got into a room and the doctor comes in and WHILE I’m dry heaving into a trash can he is trying to make small talk about his weekend in Chicago. I consider trying to aim the stomach foam at his shoes on my next heave, but I desperately want this man’s help. He starts to explain a blood patch. At this point, I don’t care if you have to chop off my arm and sew it to my foot, I just want the pain to stop.

We go into the procedure room. Shane is there, but he’s also having to text all of my friends and family with updates on my condition, and field all of their questions. They start to place the IV to draw the blood from my arm. It turns out, back doctors don’t usually have to draw blood. There was blood everywhere. I mean, everywhere. My entire arm was covered in blood, the bed was covered in blood, and the doctor was covered in blood. I had to tell him if he’d take the tourniquet off, the blood would quit spurting out of my arm. He mumbled apologies as he removed it. Then he drew 20 milliliters of blood. I did not understand that he would be using that much blood. I had to stand up so they could change the sheets and disinfect the bed because it was covered in blood. I used this time to continue throwing up. I felt like people were running around all around me and all I could do was vomit and hold my head. It didn’t make me feel at ease, but I was in too much to pain to panic.

Shane was asked to leave because the procedure involves X-ray. Once he was gone, I had to get into the usual ass-up position. It’s funny how when you feel like there’s a knife in your brain, a back injection doesn’t hurt at all. Still, that much blood going in was a pretty insane amount of pressure. You feel it in your hips and all the way down your legs from it pressing on nerves. I was told the headache should resolve in an hour. It took four hours. Possibly the longest four hours of my life. I took a migraine pill and ibuprofen and I slept. I can not describe the relief when I woke up. My head still hurt like hell, but about a million times less than what it had been before. The look of relief on Shane’s face when I walked out of my room was pretty adorable. He’ll never understand how grateful I am for everything he did that week.

My head was sore for another three or four days. Probably from how much I had pressed on it with my hands. My back was killing me from the blood patch, but it absorbed in less than a week. All in all, I came out pretty well. Basically what happened was the spinal fluid just kept leaking out. The pressure was changed around my brain. You know that feeling when you dive into deep water and you feel the uncomfortable pressure in your head? Multiply that by a million and then imagine being down there for six days. My ears kept popping for the next several days, but I felt like a brand new person. I even went to work the next day. My doctor informed me that this complication occurs less than 1% of the time. Even so, I canceled the rest of my injections. Ice and ibuprofen will have to get me through.

I wouldn’t wish this on anyone, but I learned a few things. I learned I have great friends and an unbelievably amazing boyfriend who have my back. I also, found out that it’s really okay to take time off when you’re that sick, the world didn’t stop turning… Mostly, I learned that I’m not nearly as tough as I thought, and it turns out that’s okay too, there’s no reason to be that tough!