The following story is lifted from an email. It was my way of finally letting a vet friend know I'd been out of contact because I'd been in hospital and then in Ireland.
I thought the 20 minutes I'd spent writing it justified its place on the blog. Abbreviations and hyperbole have been preserved for posterity.
On Apr 19 2011, LKT wrote:
> Hey! Wondered where you'd gone to! Hope you're alright?? What the feck have you been doing now?
All has now been resolved health-wise. I swear I wasn't doing anything this time!
I was watching TV with HL and my shoulders and neck felt stiff... didn't think anything of it... then when trying to go to sleep a massive, explodey headache started. It was bad enough I ended up lying off the edge of the bed, holding my head and throwing up into the bin every few minutes. After this had gone on for a while and I'd managed to throw up my heroic 2 paracetamol caplets, HL called an ambulance and they took me in as a suspected meningitis/cerebral blood clot case.
In A&E they gave me a couple of iv doses of paracetamol and cyclazine (antiemetic), which, after an initial 20mins of becoming even more spaced out and thinking there were worms in the ceiling, made me spacey AND painless and was AWESOME. The overly-loving way I thanked the nurse for administering it probably had her convinced that I was very gay.
The doctors were concerned and wanted to run a battery of tests. Two needles in veins later, I was stuck in an MRI machine (thankfully with a blanket as it was bloody FREEZING) to scan my brain for swelling, tumours, haemorrhage, anything. Then, 30min later, into a CT machine, to check again. I got to see the pictures by the way - I have concrete evidence that I actually have a brain inside my head! Excellent. Then a chest x-ray for any infections that could be causing meningitis.
Then - by which point it was 6.30am and I hadn't slept in 24h apart from 5min snatches of fatigue-induced narcolepsy - they took me up to a hospital bed.
Doctor: "To be sure you don't have viral meningitis, we'll need to do a lumbar puncture to collect some of the fluid around your spine. Do you know what that is?"
Me: "[affirmative whimpering]"
HL: "...She doesn't like needles."
LP went quite smoothly all-told. There was the moment of LA injection, during which my thoughts went something like, "owowow needle. Needle in me. Needle in my back AH FUCK THE NEEDLE IS SPEWING FIRE WHY IS THIS IN MY FLESH", then a lot of being poked to find the appropriate landmarks. I have to say I found the repeated checking rather insulting; I'm not THAT bloody fat that you can't see where my spine is.
I spent a good 5mins wincing and bracing myself for the needle, only to have HL see my face and say, "Er... are you aware he's already taken it? It's going in the tubes now." No. No I was not. Good LA cover then!
Beyond that, my hospital stay was mostly lying in bed playing with the up/down remote, eating crappy food and waiting for them to find ANYTHING wrong with any of my results. At the end of the second day (incidentally, several hours after I was supposed to be on a flight home), they finally waved me away going "Meh... migraine maybe? By the way, the LP might give you a headache now too."
After I'd missed the initial flight, me ma quickly booked one for midday the day after I was going to be released. I was okay in the evening (apart from the fact that, surprisingly enough, sticking a large needle in one's lumbar spine makes standing and walking rather painful); however, by the next morning, holy SHIT what a headache. From the fact that it was alright when my spine was held level and nauseating otherwise, we knew it was the LP headache I'd been warned about and set off for the plane anyway.
Pro tip: do not get a bus, train, then fucking Ryanair all with a nausea-inducing headache. Especially if you already have a tendency towards motion sickness, especially in overheated surroundings like a cheap aeroplane. Luckily, despite all expectations, Ryanair did not charge for sick bags.
I finally made it home (did I mention that I flew in to a Belfast airport rather than my home town's? ~80min drive home) and spent the next few days lying on the sofa being tended to by my mum and HL, and getting jumped on by the dog.
The dog understood I was sick, mind you; it's just that his way of helping was to stand guard and keep me company, and he never seemed to think it would be more appropriate to jump onto my legs and THEN walk up to lie on my chest when there was a much more direct route available. Also, every - and I do mean every - time there was a knock on the door, he used my diaphragm as a springboard to launch himself as a rocket of yapping terror on the visitor. Bloody JRTs.
Anyway. 36hrs of my own dreadful headache. 5 DAYS of post-LP headache that made me unable to SIT UPRIGHT. I came around in the last day or two of the family visit, i.e. the time I had assigned myself as "holiday week".
Thank you, NHS. ;)
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