Through the valley of the unknown
Tomorrow morning, I will get up with the sun. I will shower, I will not eat breakfast or have a diet coke, I will dress in comfortable clothes and I will pack distractions (absolutely none of which will be academic, for the record).
I will ride in the car for an hour to get to the hospital. I will register, I will wait. Eventually I’ll be taken back. A doctor will explain the procedure and then we’ll get started. I’ll have a needle inserted into my spine, I’ll have a radioactive tracer injected into my spine and then I’ll lie flat for 4 hours. After lying flat, I’ll be scanned.
Those two paragraphs are exactly what I know about tomorrow, what is predetermined and predictable. Everything else is unknown. Everything else is scary as shit.
Because last time it took 5 tries to get the lumbar puncture when done without x-rays. It took a solid 20 minutes to get it with the x-rays. And so I can’t help but worry and wonder about how many tries it will take tomorrow and how much it’ll hurt after.
What about the tracer? I’m allergic to iodine which my neurologist couldn’t confirm wasn’t a part of the test, but the last neuro-radiologist doubted the allergy (because I can eat shrimp and not die) and I’m afraid they’re going to ignore it tomorrow with serious consequences.
Let’s not forget the spinal headache. Because I tried to call and pre-schedule an epidural blood patch for Wednesday, so that I wouldn’t hurt through the long Thanksgiving weekend and was told that I couldn’t. I was told that if I did have a leak that I should call the on-call neurologist to try to get that scheduled. Let’s all consider the likelihood that there’s going to be a neuro-radiologist available during Thanksgiving weekend to do this non-emergent procedure.
And probably the greatest and scariest unknowns in all of this are the results.
I’m afraid that my kidneys will absorb the tracer before it gets to my brain and this will all have been for nothing.
I’m afraid nothing will show up and there will be no solution.
I’m afraid a leak will show up and all the different ways that we might have to deal with that.
Everything feels so profoundly out of my control. There are so many variables and unknowns, so many possibilities. I’m overwhelmed with all that can and might happen.
I’m afraid to make plans because I don’t know anything past tomorrow morning at 7. I don’t know if I’ll be up for Thanksgiving, I don’t know if I’ll be having brain surgery over Christmas. I don’t know if I’ll be able to finish this semester of school or start next year on time.
There are more questions than answers.
There are more possibilities than can be considered.
There are more fears than words to express them.
13 Responses to “Through the valley of the unknown”
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Welcome! I'm Katie, a 28 year old, full-time graduate student who just happened to have brain surgery in November of 2007 to give my ginormous brain a little more space. This blog chronicles my daily life, from relentless headaches to being a doctor's wife. Sit down, get comfortable and stay for a while.
I’m thinking of you Katie, and wishing you good things. I know that you say you are not brave, but you really are.
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And for every scary question or possibility, there is also a good answer and a good possibility. The world is full of opposites, and while you are understandably focusing on the negative, there are plenty of positive things that could happen as well. The fear comes from not knowing, from not having the answers to the questions you ask.
But one thing I know for sure: You will show up, no matter how afraid you are. You will have the prayers of many people lifting you up, no matter how few answers you have. And you will do the best you can to get a definitive answer, one that you will deal with in your own way, and one that will begin your ultimate healing.
I would call the hospital pharmacy or any pharmacist and find out about the iodine. They tend to know so much more about drugs than doctors do.
Go in peace, Katie. We will be praying for you.
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okay, not to be all stalkerish, but I’ll be thinking of you tomorrow and sending you good thoughts and prayers and all those other positive things. I hope that things get clearer for you after tomorrow and that it is better then you think it will be. Blessings, Katie, and hopes for a brighter tomorrow.
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Will be thinking of you and awaiting word of how it goes. Keeping fingers crossed that it all goes smooth and easy for you.
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I will be thinking of you tomorrow.
My wish for you is peace, calmness and being heard by those around you.
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the one thing you can count on is me. xoxo
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Thinking of you today and wishing you strength and blessings.
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Sending you good thoughts and positive energy.
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Thinking of you.
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De-lurking to tell you that I’m sorry I saw your post only now, but will be thinking of you and hoping for good news. My sister underwent an operation 3 and a half years ago to remove a spinal cord (benign) tumor, and has the same kind of scar as you have. She is doing fine now, mother of a 20 month old boy and newly pregnant with twins ! You make me think of her, because you’re very brave and smart. Lots of positive thoughts and wishes.
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Praying today that you get the answers you hope for and the relief you need.
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I hope, by now, the ordeal is over. I hope, by now, they know something and that whatever that something is can be fixed – quickly. And without additional pain. More than anything, I would love to see you pain free.
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I have seen your tweets through the other amazing women I follow, whose blogs I read, and just recently clicked around to you. I would guess you’re in PA school, and I think that you’re incredible. I believe that you have flights of angels looking over you, and I’m sorry your health is so shitty. Reading your entries helps me to be a better hospital social worker, and I thank you for that.
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