This is spinal tap. And it sucks.

02Aug08

I’m not really sure if yesterday actually happened. I’m quite content to pretend I imagined it all, even the symptoms that took me first to the clinic and then to the emergency room – I tried all day yesterday to wish them away, and as if to prove me resoundingly wrong, every time I would sit quietly enough to focus on how imaginary I wanted the numbness and tingling along the right side of my body to be, it would flare up again and remind me of why I was there in yet another waiting room.

Thursday night was like any other evening. Got home from work, flipped on the brain-rot-box, ate some dinner, hung out on the couch. At about 9pm (I remember because an intro sequence to some show was on, and suddenly I couldn’t focus on what it was) I suffered a very sharp and focused headache – the right frontal part of my head felt like it was splitting open, and there was a feeling of pressure behind my right eye. I am not prone to headaches, except from dehydration, and I can not recall a single migraine in my short 27 years of life. This pain was unlike any other headache I have ever experienced.

B. rushed to get me a tall glass of water and a dose of Ibuprofen, but the headache ended almost as suddenly as it began. I felt foggy, and then the distinct sensation of tingling all along the right side of my body. My right cheek felt as if it was full of Novocain, my right arm felt weak, my right leg felt vague and slow. For about 20-30 minutes I felt very scared and disoriented, and couldn’t figure out what to do with my body, couldn’t get my mind to focus on anything except the weirdness inside.

I know what to look for – so does B. as our parents are all approaching *that* age – he had me make faces, asked me questions to gauge my coherence – nothing was clearly wrong, all cylinders were firing, I just felt…off.

I went to bed in denial, hoping that the numbness would be gone by morning. When I first woke up, I didn’t notice much of anything (as usual) and rode my bike to work, prepared for a long and productive day. I still felt a strange numbness along the upper right side of my body, but I thought that if I ignored it, it might, you know, go away.

I was able to keep up the illusion until my co-worker came in, wanting to show me something on a piece of paper, which is exactly how vaguely my brain seems to have registered the event. He pointed to some numbers, said something about them, and all while looking directly at the page and trying to focus on his words, I understood nothing.

I could have been simply overwhelmed with the distraction of my half-fuzzy-face, or my mind may have truly been unable to make certain connections, either way I knew that I wasn’t going to be a useful employee until I got checked out. I cleared it with the boss, said I’d be back soon, and went down to the clinic a few blocks away.

After waiting several hours, sitting in a busy waiting room and still fearful of the feelings radiating down my right side, I was finally seen by a doctor. He looked me over, had me make faces, answer questions, reviewed my medical history, and finally said “I’m going to advise that we call over an ambulance right now and have them take you to the hospital for more tests.” I crumbled. I wanted answers but more than that I wanted my symptoms to disappear so I could get back to normal life. Just as I asked if I could have a friend take me instead, my cell phone rang and it was B., checking up on me. The doctor jotted down “Refused ambulance”, sealed my files into a envelope and wrote “Emergency Nurse” across the front, then handed it to me and left.

By the time B. dropped me off at Emergency check-in, I was terrified. I knew what everyone was thinking but not saying, I knew that aside from the numbness I felt fine and sharp and with-it, but I also couldn’t ignore how seriously everyone took my symptoms – except, gradually, me. I sat in the waiting room for nearly two hours, thinking to myself that really, I could make a fist, my smile looked fine in the mirror, my head didn’t really hurt anymore – maybe I was making it all up, could I go home now?

After having more blood drawn than I have ever seen, a neurological exam, a CT scan, another review of medical history, one spinal tap during which I swear it felt as though the doctor were excavating a tunnel right through the center of my back that had no results, a second spinal tap using fluoroscope to guide much less painfully that collected enough fluid for the four required vials, and hours and hours of waiting, I know this much:

• The CT scan was clear of visual clues
• The spinal fluid shows no trace of red blood cells
• My other tests are all also clear of indicators
• My symptoms point 99% to a small hemorrhage in my brain, but my test results point 99.9% to that not actually being the case. Those are my exaggerated numbers, but the doctor’s diagnosis was full of similar numerically impossible percentages.
• I am due to follow-up with a neurologist next week
• The right side of my body (which for some reason I keep wanting to refer to as my left) still has a slight tingling sensation to it, mostly along the side of my face-neck and in my forearm-wrist.
• I currently have no headache (though my back is a whole different story)

The prescription for the weekend is rest, though that’s more for the recovery of my “minor” lumbar procedures than anything else. I still can’t help thinking about it all and actually hoping that somehow I have imagined it, and yet at the same time, I am frustrated by the knowledge that after all of those tests, hours spent taking up space in the ER, I don’t have any clear answers. Or do I? If this were an episode of House, would I be at the half-hour mark yet, where all of the guessing has led to elimination of some culprits but still the worst is yet to come, or am I in the clear at 10-til-the-hour, when the worst has been ruled-out and I will soon be cured and enjoying a weepy montage of all those who cared for me during my illness?

That leads me to the last thing I want to say about this whole ordeal – I have had excellent medical care the whole way through. Attentive, direct, kind – I did wait a very long time at various points in the experience, but I understand the reasons for that and I do not find any fault in the individuals who worked so hard to try and find me some answers. Being in a hospital is one of the scariest things to me – too many unknowns usually, too much that I simply can’t comprehend (which is why those of you in scrubs and white coats deserve to be paid well for your work) too many needles and big machines to make vulnerable little me feel much better. The staff were constantly asking how I was doing and reassuring me that, despite how scary it all was, I was there to rule out certain possible causes of something that I had been wise not to ignore.

If more of note happens, I may write about it. If it turns out nothing is wrong, I will announce that with exuberance. In the mean-time, I’m going to have a lazy weekend and go back to life as usual as soon as I can.

Filed under: :: notes on being human ::   |  3 Comments
Tags: emergency room, hospital, illness, medical, tests, waiting