Torture's over...

More lost days.  I blame the spinal tap.

Monday was the day of torture, though I really struggled the week leading up to it and continue on today, though in a much different day.  I want to blog about it, but I am not sure I am up for the blow-by-blow entry that I prefer.

Today, my back hurts and my head aches.  I battled a migraine and a blood sugar crash in the middle of the night and so have the post period of both of those in which I always feel like crap.  But I feel like crap from the GINORMOUS needle that was shoved in my spine yesterday!

I have been rather frightened of the pain (yes, it did hurt) and the triggers (successfully navigated, Christ be praised) for several weeks, but have been especially felled since last week.  I knew my nerves would not like being stuck with a needle (they did not) and I knew that my mind would not like being unclothed (it did not).  I could not see a way through either of those.  I mean, there is nothing much to do about the pain.  And I could not see a way past having my gown untied.  But, as for the latter, God could and He provided in a way that was an absolute blessing.

Having Becky here is just amazing to me.  I get so darn giddy, that the excitement carries me through what would otherwise send me to my mattress for days on end.  In a way, having her come on Saturday was probably the biggest blessing of all because we visited right up until it was time for her to go up to bed Sunday evening.  That was wonderful for me in terms of plain distraction.  Only, once I realized I'd be alone the night before the spinal tap, I tried, nearly, to keep her downstairs with me.

There were two Myrtles:  one who wanted her friend to have the rest she desired and the other one who was finding herself in the throes of abject fear about the morrow.

Sadly, the fearful one won out and kept her exhausted friend up got all snippy with her.  It was not a gracious moment by far.  Grace, as far as that which was received, came later.

The first definition of grace I learned was: "unmerited favor."  Grace is favor from God we receive by no merit of our own.  Never before have I believed a moment filled with unmerited favor more so than when the radiologist tech told me that she had scrub pants for me to wear with my gown.  In that moment, I knew that I was loved and I knew that I would be able to get through the unclothed portion of the procedure.

Or at least most of it.
Maybe.
Hopefully.

Emboldened by Becky's presence and the varied ways that she works to cheer me (such as wearing our shared Dr Pepper shirt), I ended up just telling the radiologist tech my two main fears right up front when she said wanted to know how she could help me get through the spinal tap.

First, I finally found the words to explain, in brief, what the biggest trigger for me would be and why:  opening my gown ... because it reminds me how I felt having my clothes removed by those who were hurting me.  I know that the two are not the same at all, but my mind and body don't.  They become caught in the past and there is little I can do about that ... at least at the moment.

Second, my nerves over-react all the blooming time.  Mukcking about with a needle in my spine did not seem to be the way to a pain-free life.  And I was right.  IT HURT.  In fact, the entire time the needle was in my body, after he reached about mid-way through its insertion, I had this shooting pain that arced from the insertion site over to my left hip.  It pulsed and throbbed and made me want to call a halt before much was done.  But I was serious.

What brought me to my figurative knees is that I began to overheat.  As sweat was pouring down my neck from my head, I started to throw in the towel. Nothing was going to be all right ever again.  I just despaired.  And then Becky fetched my bamboo and paper hand fan from my purse and started to cool me off.

Becky kept that up for more than an hour, with just a few breaks being spelled by the radiologist tech.  Truly, it was from her interaction that we learned of the testing happening just a wee little bit from the tech.  I was astounded at her stamina and her willingness to help me.  Truly I did not think that I could get through the procedure, but I did.

Part of the difficulty was that my cerebral spinal fluid (CSF) flow rate was interminably slow.  It was about twenty minutes until the first drop, the first drop made it through the tubing from the needle up to the valve and into the collection container.  TWENTY MINUTES.  The lab requested 18cc for the tests that were ordered, but the radiologist essentially gave up after 10.5cc.

Throughout the hour plus of the dripping part, he would adjust the needle to try an improve flow rate and trigger my nerves.  He also kept raising the table until it was probably at a 70 degree angle.  Nothing really worked.  There was no great increase in flow.

I did ask and have the nurse assigned to my post care call my neurologist's office to ask that the tests be ordered in importance in case there was not enough fluid for all of the tests.  I asked this because the MS panel was listed 8th and I really wanted that one first!  I had no desire for the lyme test because I have been tested for lyme disease umpteen different times already.  Thus far, two tests have posted.  Since my follow-up visit is not for five weeks, I am hoping that all the tests results post.  One of those results is for cryptococcal meningitis.  Since I was certain I did not have that either, I didn't care for that result and sincerely hope the test was run because all the tests were run.  The reason I say this is because I am NOT doing this again.

The two greatest risks from the procedure are infection and a CSF headache, which can become rather serious.  The main way to diagnose the latter is symptoms, primarily it being a positional headache.  Lying down will alleviate the headache.  Because nothing is easy for me, I will note that I have a headache that is alleviated with standing, but is made worse by sitting.  Go figure.  I should no longer be at risk for the CSF headache after Thursday.

The thing about the scrub pants is that God had already provided a solution for me before I even had a chance to fumble and bumble my way through explaining my fear and the trigger!  It was so humbling to hear her words and realize at that time the provision my Good Shepherd had made.  If I did not have Sjögren's, I think I might have flooded the room with my tears!

I am hoping that the lingering shame I feel leaves soon, along with the headache and injection sight pain.  I am hoping the profundity of the realization of the depth of God's care for me will remain.