I called my neurosurgeon’s office last Friday from in the throws of a horrific headache. No one answered, so I left a message. I basically told them that I really didn’t know what to do. I told them that the blood patch had helped for less than a week and I told them that I was ready to discuss other treatment plans.

And then at 8:03 on Tuesday morning I got a call back. The nurse said the neurosurgeon wanted to see me this week. He wanted to discuss treatment options.

OptionS.

As usual, I’m fighting myself on this. This week has been such an incredibly terrible week in terms of headaches. I haven’t been able to accomplish 90% of what I wanted to, and the 10% I did accomplish was of a quality that never would’ve been acceptable to me in the past. And so there’s a part of me that wants to be hopeful. There’s a part of me that wants to think that perhaps this time we’ll figure out the answer, that this time we’ll stop the pain for good.

And then there’s the rest of me. The part that is bitter, tired, and in pain. It’s the part of me that has sobbed tears of frustration, of anger over this situation. It’s the part that swore I was done with hope. I know it sounds pessimistic. But the only way to preserve myself, the only way to not be crushed by reality is to not expect big things. To not hope for anything better because the let down is so great.

Tomorrow I have to face a future, maybe a big let down, I don’t know yet. I’m prepared to ask a lot of questions, to see what my options are, to get opinions from this doctor, who is an expert in this field.

But I’m afraid. I’m afraid that his opinion is that the only thing I can do is the multiple day in the hospital, extremely expensive test/treatment that may or may not work. I’m even more afraid that his opinion is that there’s nothing more to be done.

I’m just afraid.

I’m afraid of my life.

I’m afraid of my future.

I’m afraid of pain.

And I’m afraid that my life and my future are going to be completely full of it.

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