I've Sprung A Leak

 (a view from my bed of my cat's fav-o-rite place to perch)

Well, I can check "getting a spinal headache" off of my to-do list.  When I left you last, I had the spinal tap myelogram. To prevent getting a spinal headache, I was instructed to go home, have a rest, drink lots of caffeine, and keep my head elevated.  Check, check, check, and check.  Despite all of my efforts, I did indeed develop a whopping head banger over the past few days.  It appears that I developed a slow leak of spinal fluid and my brain, which is supposed to be floating, was being pulled downwards from a lack of fluid.

Today, I was scheduled for a spinal nerve block to help with the back pain, but when I arrived at the surgery center with an ice pack on my head and tears running down my face, they knew I had a bigger fish to fry.  They scratched the nerve block and decided to do a blood patch to stop the headache instead.  Sounds lovely, doesn't it?  A blood patch...yech.  

 (ye old hospital bracelets)

The good news is that the patch worked and I now longer want to jump off of a bridge to end it all while simultaneously tossing my cookies.  The past few days have been horrible.  Lots of bed rest, but not the fun kind...it was more the miserable kind where you just don't want to exist.

The worst part is that they could have fixed this much earlier if I would have put two and two together,  I thought I was having a weird sinus-y migraine-ish headache.  Duh, I should have known better.

(the view I have been staring at for days and days...and days)

Anyway, we did find out that I don't have any hardware problems or any other disc issues in my back.  They don't really know why, but my nerve root is inflamed.  It could be infection, or a reaction to the titanium in the hardware, or some other mysterious inflammatory response.  

Regardless, the treatment is the same, a nerve block to stop inflammation and a prescription for Lyrica, which should make my nerves less sensitive.  (side note, every time I take my Lyrica, I imagine that a really mean lady drill sergeant named Lyrica Jones is traveling to my nerve roots and yelling things like "toughen up you sissy babies," and "hey nerves, I've met tougher 2-year-olds than you!" to make them less sensitive.  In my head, she kind of looks like Neicy Nash on Reno 911 or a female Mr. T.)

(the ridiculous number of prescriptions that make me feel like a geriatric) 

 Anyway, I have 24+ more hours of bed rest to make sure I don't mess up this blood patch.  At least this bed rest won't be filled with ice packs on my head and moaning from pain.  I can't believe I would even complain about bed rest, because I am a lover of both bed and rest, but I guess too much of even the good stuff gets burdensome after awhile.

I hope that my posts next week do not include the following words: pain, vomiting, migraine-ish, headache, tears, or blood.  I'm not making any promises, but I remain tirelessly optimistic.