I love how life likes to taunt me. Every night since Saturday, I have thought to myself, today I experienced the worst pain I’ve ever had. Surely it’ll get better tomorrow. And so far? that has not once been the case.

I had a 10:15 appointment for a physical today. This physical was to make sure that I was fit to have my own blood shot into my own back. The concept escaped me completely, but for pain relief I was more than willing to jump through any and all hoops necessary. Especially since the neurosurgeon’s nurse had called me at 8 in the morning to say that they could do the blood patch on Thursday instead of Friday if and only if the entire physical, including the bloodwork, was done and faxed to their office by 4.

No pressure (ha, no pun intended).

Of course I knew that getting a physical today was going to be a challenge, what with standing up being the instigator of almost immediate pain. But I had no idea. When I got to the office, just sitting in the waiting room was awful. Getting my blood pressure taken, was horrific (and for proof? My blood pressure, normally no higher than 95/60 was 110/80. Um, yea. PAIN). I finally got to lay down on the exam table, but the relief was short lived.

This physical was not what I had envisioned. I assumed it was listening to heart and lungs, poking the belly and a few blood tests. Um, no. Fail. It was a 12 lead EKG, a chest x-ray, lots of blood work and the listening and poking. In all, it took 2 hours upright to get it all done. At the end, I honestly thought I might pass out from the pain. As I laid on a cement curb waiting for my mom to drive the car up, I wondered if I would even make it through the 30 mile ride home.

I did. But when I tell you that I’ve never felt pain like that before, I’m not exaggerating. It was nothing short of torturous. It was the deepest, darkest circle of hell.

I got home, took drugs and laid on the couch, afraid to move a muscle. The pain eased, I was finally able to eat something and things were looking up. The morning was awful, but the end was in sight. Relief was in sight.

And then at 3:30, the neurosurgeon’s office called. They had everything…except the one thing they really had to have. The bloodwork. You know, that part that told them if my blood would even clot enough to make this work at all.

So I called my primary care doctor’s office to find out if they had it, they didn’t know. They would call me back. The time flew by. 3:35. 3:40. 3:55. Finally I called back and they said they’d really check this time (um, don’t even get me started here).

At 4:15 I got a call that my bloodwork was done, they would fax it right that instant. I quickly called the neurosurgeon’s office to tell them. No one answered. Not the nurse. Not the nurse practitioner. Not the receptionist even. I was crushed. I had suffered for hours for nothing. They had told me this morning that if the patch couldn’t be done on Thursday, they weren’t sure when it could be done.

I was devastated.

At 4:30, I got a call. My caller ID showed that it was the hospital and the man introduced himself as the interventional radiology department’s appointment scheduler. I braced myself for the worst, knowing I’d missed the deadline and not knowing when they might have scheduled the blood patch for.

And then, it finally happened. I caught a break.

Tomorrow at 2pm, I will get a blood patch done by my neurosurgeon (this is important because my neurosurgeon is literally like THE MAN who studies and pioneers better blood patches. He’s published articles upon articles about high volume patches and how effective they are).

I will have to fast all day (if you see me tomorrow, turn around and run the other way. I’m a little like The Hulk. You won’t like me when I’m hungry) and it will probably hurt like hell (you know, what with the other two big holes in my back already), but it might fix this pain.

It might mean that tomorrow is the last day where I am afraid to get up and pee or where I have to ask my mom to pour my Diet Coke into a cup with a lid so I can sip it lying down.

We will trek the 50 miles tomorrow to the very same hospital I have been admitted into for the past two Fridays, and I will have the 3rd needle shoved into my spine this week.

And I will pray that this one, this third one, is finally the charm.

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