The doctor was very easy to talk to and didn't make me feel like I was crazy when I told her my various strange symptoms. She performed a brief physical exam, testing reflexes and such. She noted that one side of my body was reflexing a little differently than the other. Other than that, all seemed well. With that small clue along with the symptoms I shared, she decided to order an M.R.I. A few days later, I was heading through the white tunnel hoping I could make it through an hour and a half of imaging without using the bathroom and without twitching from the muscle spasms. I actually felt amazing during the test. My body felt so relaxed that I even had the crazy thought that maybe God was healing me at that very moment. I expected the test results to come back normal. As I was leaving the M.R.I. room, the technician who had gone into the small computer room to see if the images were clear, came in and asked me how long I had been having my symptoms. "Why are you asking me this?" I thought to myself. "Did you see something?" It didn't really matter if she had because she wouldn't have been able to tell me. Then, as I left the room to get dressed, the man who had been watching the computers during the whole test came out of the room and said, "Good luck to you, miss." The same questions haunted my mind. Were they just making small talk, being polite? I went from wondering if I was healed to wondering if I had a massive tumor on my spinal cord.
I was grateful that the doctor had squeezed me in on her lunch hour to give me the results the next day. "Inconclusive", was her conclusion. There were several white spots on my brain indicating lesions. These lesions could have been there for many years as a result of migraines or they could be lesions caused by multiple sclerosis that were located in areas that were not considered "classic" to the disease. No spots on the spinal cord or brain stem. That was a good thing. No tumors. A great thing! She gave me two choices. One, I could have a spinal tap that would give an immediate answer as to whether or not I had m.s. with a 95% accuracy. Two, I could wait six months to see if I had new symptoms and possibly order another M.R.I. The problem with number one is that spinal taps can be very uncomfortable. The problem with number two is that if I did have m.s. and didn't get medicated right away, I could have another attack. Each attack is usually different...maybe more severe. The damage from those attacks cannot be reversed. What if in the next six months I had an attack that damaged the nerves to my legs? The doctor assured me that the likelihood was slim, but there are no guarantees. I decided to think about it.
Within a week or so, my symptoms started to escalate. Each time this happened, I would worry about the long term damage that could be happening inside my body. Deep down inside, I knew I needed to just have the spinal tap done, but I was scared. My doctor reassured me that she had only had two patients with spinal tap complications within the last five years. For some reason, I felt like I would be the third. I battled back and forth with the idea. I called my friend, the doctor, and discussed it with him. I called my aunt. Everyone seemed to think it would be best for me to just have the answer I needed...just so I could have peace of mind, rule it out, etc. The spinal tap would go fine. Statistically, that was true. But, statistically, I shouldn't have celiac disease. I shouldn't have m.s..
After a bad night of numbness and spasms, I finally decided to bite the bullet. I opted to have the procedure done in my doctor's office rather than by a radiologist in the hospital. She is a very capable doctor and she assured me that I was thin enough that it wouldn't be difficult to find just the right space to insert the needle to draw the spinal fluid. And, it was thousands of dollars cheaper. Jack went with me. I bent forward, hugging my knees while he sat facing me, hugging all of me. It hurt, I won't lie. The doctor said she hit some scar tissue and needed to move to another spot and try again. I didn't doubt it. I have been having chronic back pain for years. At one point, the fluid stopped flowing and she was afraid she wouldn't be able to collect enough for all the tests she wanted to order. Thankfully, the flow picked up again and it was over in a few minutes. My legs both went numb. She said that was normal because of the adrenaline. In my mind I thought, "No, it's because I DO have m.s., dangit!" But, I always had that battle of faith and fear going on in my head. And it would continue for a few more weeks while I waited for results.
The doctor warned me that a slight percentage of people would get a bad headache from the spinal tap. I was to lay flat for a day or two in order to avoid this. I thought I followed the orders quite well. But still, I became the exception to the rule. I took pain killers and hoped that things would get better. They only got worse. Every time I lifted my head, I felt it would explode. The pain was unimaginable. I called the doctor's office and was instructed to meet a radiologist at the hospital who would perform a procedure similar to the spinal tap where he would collect some of my own blood and insert it into my spinal cord (with another long needle) and patch up the hole that was causing my spinal fluid to leak out. This was called a "blood patch" and it didn't sound fun at all! I declined. Maybe I just needed to lay flat longer. Nope. It didn't help. The next day my mother came to stay with me while the kids were at school. Now, every time I lifted my head, I started to vomit. I called my doctor friend. I wanted him to tell me that it would go away. But instead he told me the blood patch HAD to be done. It would give me immediate relief. It was the only solution. So, a special radiologist was called into the hospital. In a few hours, I was on my way. I staggered down the walkway outside of our front door bent over with my head down. I only made it a few steps before collapsing on the front lawn to throw up. My mom grabbed a plastic bowl and helped me to the car. Luckily, we now live just a few blocks from the hospital. I couldn't believe how long I had to sit in the waiting room. I found a couch and laid down, praying that I wouldn't throw up in front of everybody.
Finally, I was whisked down the hall to an x-ray room. I lay on the table, curled up on my side. The radiologist was amazing. He gently described the procedure to me and walked me through the whole thing with his soothing voice and mannerisms. The nurse had to call in her supervisor because she was having a hard time drawing my blood. When my blood was finally pulsing through the tubes, the radiologist was able to get started. The imaging machine helped him to locate the spinal fluid leak and the blood was slowly inserted. He told me to let him know when I started to feel pressure. That would mean that the hole was "plugged". Even though it was uncomfortable, I actually waited a few seconds after that sensation...thinking that would guarantee that it was very, very "plugged". He was curious why it had taken so much blood. I didn't confess. The radiologist was like a miracle worker! Immediately, I was able to sit up and walk upright down the hall to the recovery room. I waited an hour and went home.
Yep, I beat the odds...I was my doctor's third person.
