Migraines and medications and analgesic rebound

I've been taking narcotics chronically since October 2010, because of the residual back pain. I had taken them from Nov 2009 to May 2010, while I was on warfarin for the post-op DVT/PE. Because you are my adoring audience, you are well aware that I had a 2nd DVT (not yay) in Oct 2010, which required me to take rat poison forever (also not yay, but at least I didn't have another PE). NSAIDs (those lovely anti-inflammatory meds) also thin the blood and make bleeding ulcers and bleeding in worse places (like the brain. I'm fond of my brain as it is...) more likely when combined with warfarin. For this reason, my hematologist limited me to a total of 8 naproxen 220 mg tablets (Aleve) per month. I can't tolerate the majority of neuropathic pain meds (my brain is messed up enough and those meds make it even worse!), so they are out. Thus, I went back on narcotics to keep the chronic back pain under control.

I hate the idea of taking hydrocodone daily, so I keep it to the utter minimum -- one half of a 7.5 mg hydrocodone tablet daily, with some days requiring a whole one. It's a very small dose, and I haven't had to escalate the dose in the year and a half I've been taking it. Recently I've wondered if I could actually come off the daily hydrocodone. The back pain is tolerable though still present. I have no other ailments right now that require pain meds (hello, comminuted fracture of left wrist).

So I stopped taking the hydrocodone on Sunday. And I've had a migraine now for the past 2 days. The back pain has been manageable (!) but this headache is really annoying. I suspect that there is a component of analgesic rebound to this migraine, which is especially irritating.

Analgesic rebound headaches (ARH) are chronic headaches caused by overuse of short-acting pain meds (analgesics). They are notoriously tough to get through. They can take up to 2 weeks to resolve, and one has to be careful not to substitute another short acting analgesic medication for the offending one. I've supported many a patient through this process. I just would prefer not to have to go through it myself, to be honest. This morning, I was forced to use up one of my precious Aleves, as I woke with the same migraine I went to bed with (no, I'm not talking about TheHusband, you silly people). Aleve usually works for me to abort a migraine. Not today. I hate when I experience first-hand what I've treated patients for.

I will stop complaining and look on the bright side, now. Thanks for listening.

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Update 5/11:

Migraine pretty much gone. The back pain is definitely worse, especially in the morning. I was hunched over quite a bit this morning, but moving better by the afternoon.

The placebo effect is alive and well

I'm back on Lovenox for a short time, ahead of some minor surgery tomorrow. ThePinkThing wanted to watch me give myself the injection this morning. (Either a ghoul or a future doctor...). She came in to observe after I'd cleaned the area with the alcohol pad but before I stabbed myself. She watched critically and carefully.

Here is a reasonable approximation of our post-injection interaction:
ND: "Ouch. That does hurt a bit." (It doesn't hurt while I inject. It burns for about 15 minutes afterwards, though.)
TPT: "Why don't you use the white square? When Dr. Victor uses the white square on my arm before he gives me a shot, it doesn't hurt."
ND: "You missed it. I did use the white square."
TPT: "Then how come it hurts you?"
ND (thinking quickly): "Because the shots I'm taking are different medicine from the ones Dr. Victor gives you."
TPT (thinks carefully): "Okay... Mommy, can I give you the shot tonight? Maybe it won't hurt if I give it."
ND (practically flinching at the thought of my 8 year-old sticking a needle in me...): "Ummm... you can help me push the plunger, but I have to stick the needle in."

Just in case you hadn't figured it out -- the "white square" TPT is referring to is the alcohol pad. I'll let her think that the white square magically makes an injection not hurt for as long as I can...

QotD: Are blood thinners poison for vampires?

This month I've decided to post every day. Since I don't have enough original things to write about (hence the desertish nature of my blog lately), I've decided to ask a new question every day this month and hope that I get answers. I have questions; you have answers.

It won't come as a surprise to most of you that blood thinners are on my mind of late -- specifically warfarin or Coumadin (yes, I'm talking rat poison). That's because I had a new deep vein thrombosis (i.e., blood clot in a leg vein) last month. Yay? A second DVT (even though I did not have a bonus pulmonary embolus, like the last time) basically gets me life-long blood thinners. It wouldn't be so annoying if it were easy to keep my blood just thin enough without being too thin. This is not an uncommon problem, and I've been on the physician side of it many a time. Everything interacts with warfarin, including two of my favorite foods (broccoli and cranberries). I can't take NSAIDs on a daily basis anymore, which is annoying because I continue to have moderate back pain pretty much all the time.

And so, blood thinners being on my mind, I wonder what effect blood thinners might have on vampires. Do they make sucking the blood out all the much easier and so are considered a good thing? Are they poison (like garlic) for a vampire? Do you think a vampire could tell that I'm taking warfarin? I can't decide whether to sleep with a wooden stake next to my bed, or not.

I can haz migraine?

Unfortunately, it seem that I can.

Some of my friends have been troubled with migraines recently. Much as I enjoy sharing things with you, I would prefer that YOU. KEEP. YOUR. MIGRAINES. TO. YOURSELVES.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Brainzz Management Services

Lice (and Mousie)

Sigh.

And yuck.

ThePinkThing's been scratching her head for a few weeks. I'm not stupid, so the first thing I thought of was lice. I (being a researchy kinda person) looked up lice is diagnosed and followed the instructions. I saw nothing, nothing I tell you. I looked behind her ears and at the back of her head but didn't see nits or bugs. I changed her shampoo and conditioner, I changed our laundry detergent, I even had her use Neutrogena's T-Gel a few times. But she still kept scratching.

I must be blind or something. Since TheHusband was going to TPT's pediatrician's office anyway to fix one of their computers, I sent her along for an evaluation. (TH fixes the computer, KidDoc fixes TPT's itchy head, right? It's a fair trade.) KidDoc apparently saw the nits right away. Eeeeuw. And gross. (Yes, yes, I know that I'm a Brain Doctor, and the sight of brain slices fazes me not in the least. But ooogey bug eggs in my kid's hair gross me out, okay?) When I told KidDoc that I had looked and didn't find anything, there was silence on the phone. I know he was thinking "God save me from these adult specialists who can't even diagnose something basic..."

I followed KidDoc's instructions (Rid shampoo, followed by Prell shampoo, followed by some serious hair inspection/combing). I stripped the beds, washed all of the bedding in hot water, dried it on high, put the pillows in the dryer for 20 minutes on high (Oooo, toasty!), washed the towels, and vacuumed the carpet in her room. I washed everything again before nit-picking session number 2, as well.

I was also instructed to put any stuffed animals she sleeps with in a plastic bag. Note that TPT is not terribly fond of stuffed animals, which is strange considering how stuffed-animal-obsessed my brother and I were (I guess she takes after TH, in that respect). She does have two favorites -- Mousie and Cottontail. Cottontail is a generic rabbit, but Mousie is special. My brother gave Mousie to me in 1989, when I had to have surgery. She is a big, fat, white mouse with personality (though all of our stuffed animals had personalities when we were kids). For some reason, Mousie's signature activity is screeching "MOTHER" at the top of her lungs (yes, I am the voice of Mousie...). TPT thinks it's hilarious and appropriated Mousie for her own a few years ago. She also decided that I am no longer Mousie's "mother", she is. Kids are strange, yes? When I told her that Mousie would have to spend 2 weeks in a plastic garbage bag, TPT became distraught and started to cry. She told me that Mousie doesn't like being in the bag and wants to come out. Eventually she stopped crying and decided to throw Mousie a party in 2 weeks to make up for her captivity. When I mentioned the Mousie-situation to my brother (via text), his response (also via text) was as follows:

"MOTHERRRRRRRRRRR!"

and

"MOTHER, GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

When I showed these texts to TPT, she ran around shrieking "Mother, get me out!" at the top of her lungs. Perhaps she does share some stuffed-animal-genes with me and her uncle, after all.

Looking forward to the lice going away and Mousie being sprung from prison. And anytime I scratch my head now, I am paranoid.

The Curse of Lake Wallenpaupack

Yes, it struck again. I've mentioned that whenever we visit my friends at their house in the Poconos, something bad seems to happen. Even when they come to visit us, badness occurs. I did threaten to leave TheHusband home if we went to the lake house again. This time, he wasn't the problem.

We wanted a low-key, relaxing summer vacation this year. Last summer we went to Great Wolf Lodge right before school started, which was fun but frenetic (add friends with 4 kids and frenetic is definitive). So we tempted fate and stayed at our friends' lake house in the Poconos for a WHOLE WEEK, from 8/21-8/29. I was really tempting fate with a whole week's stay.

Our trip there was mildly annoying, because we left an hour and a half later than planned, forgot the blow-up mattress (thankfully our friends brought theirs), and left the car adapter for the DVD player at home. A Radio Shack along the way didn't have the right tip. So we had a 4 hour car ride with an only child and no obvious method of entertainment (it was dark for almost the whole ride). We survived. And, yes I am fully aware that everyone in my generation (and a million generations before mine) all went on long car trips without such nice methods of entertainment. Yes, yes, I know that. But it does make things so much easier.

The first weekend was nice, although the weather turned against us on Sunday (low 70s and rainy). Seven and four year-olds don't mind going in the lake or hot tub when it's raining. Their parents don't love standing around in the rain quite as much. Later that day, our friends went home and we had almost a whole week of relaxation and fun ahead of us.

It was fun and relaxing. Perhaps a bit more relaxing than expected, as it rained and was cool from Sunday through Wednesday. It was like 500 degrees every day this summer, except that week. Where's the justice in that, eh? We went to 2 different "family fun" places, and ThePinkThing played skee-ball, air hockey, and other arcade games that (of course) promote mental development. TheHusband and I had our usual no-holds-barred, cutthroat game of air hockey, for which I will sacrifice a certain level of back pain. I WON, OF COURSE. We went to a mall to buy some of her school clothes. We drove to NJ to see my grandparents, who live about 2 hours from Lake Wallenpaupack. I even worked one of the days. Not exactly the activities I was expecting for a vacation at the Poconos lake. I figured that our badness this year was the weather. No biggie in the real scheme of things.

Thursday the weather cleared up, although the lake temperature was, um, cool. TheHusband had promised ThePinkThing that he would take her Jet-Skiing, and Thursday was the day. Riding on a Jet-Ski was basically forbidden by SpineDoc for me ("Are you nuts? You had a lumbar fusion a few months ago. You know better than that..."), so I was the cheering section on shore. TPT enjoyed it but got really cold. She also said that she liked going 10 mph better than 40 mph. I wonder what that says about my husband's aquatic driving skills? Friday we went to a very nice beach at the lake. Sunny, nice, cold water, few people, lots of sand, very attentive and hungry ducks. (Did you know that ducks eat ice cream sandwiches? I didn't until that day.)

Friday night (8/27) my friends and their daughters arrived. (Yay, PinkPlaymates! And grown-ups to hang with, too!) Saturday was another beach day. One nice thing about kids of a certain age is that you no longer have to hover over them or watch them every minute.

On the Sunday morning I was silently congratulating myself for surviving the week at Lake Wallenpaupack unscathed. In retrospect, I just should've kept my (internal) piehole shut. TPT and the 7 year-old PinkPlaymate were riding their scooters on the back deck, while the four year-old was alternately begging to join in and whining that the big girls weren't playing with her. The wheel of TPT's scooter must've gotten caught in between the slats of the deck, and she fell over, hitting her face on the edge of the bench. She immediately started crying. She is the kind of kid who cries at the drop of a hat, and I have learned to differentiate the "Wah -- that hurt" cry from the "OMFG WAAAAAAHHHH, a limb is hanging by a thread" kinda cry. She let out one of the latter.

I may have mobility issues, but I can move quickly enough when I need to. She hit her right eye (the eyelid, thank goodness) and the bridge of her nose on a square edge of a bench. She ended up with a laceration on the eyelid and some pretty impressive swelling/bruising of the right eyelid. She may have had a hairline fracture of the bridge of her nose, but if she did, it was asymptomatic and non-displaced.

One other bad thing about this most recent evidence of the Curse was that she had her first day of school on the day after the injury. Poor thing was in a total tizzy about going to school with a black eye -- to the point where she "couldn't fall asleep". Once she got to school, she was fine, but boy it was a chore getting her to go. Note that a swollen eye and bruise on her nose didn't stop her from climbing the street pole, as usual.



A week after the injury, you can't even see it -- the healing power of children. TheHusband has now refused to visit my friends' lake house next summer, in hopes that the Curse of Lake Wallenpaupack may dissipate, if we stay away. He said that if we go to Alaska instead, it might not find us there. I'm game.

Bagging Blogging

As has been obvious over the past few months, I have not exactly been an inspired blogger. I've been a mostly-invisible blogger. It's not really that I have nothing to say. It's just that I haven't had anything nice to say. I have to push myself to even think about the blog, and that's not an environment conducive to blogging.

It doesn't help that the back pain is much worse over the past few weeks. The initial improvement in back pain followed by a gradual and significant worsening is not a good sign. It is most suggestive of non-fusion or pseudarthrosis. That is not exactly the outcome I hoped for when I went in for surgery. I was supposed to suffer for a while and then get better. Unfortunately it seems that I suffered more than I expected at the beginning (why yes, I am still on the blood thinners to treat the DVT and pulmonary embolism) without any lasting benefit. I have an xray scheduled for later this week and an appointment with the neurosurgeon next Friday. The options in general suck and I am pretending that everything is A-1, just ducky, going along fine. I swear it takes all of my energy to keep up the pretense.

And that brings me around to the real point of this post. I just don't feel like blogging anymore. I never intended that this become only a place for me to whine and complain -- and that is really all I want to do right now. So I am taking yet another vacation from blogging. Perhaps short-term, maybe long-term, possibly permanent. If the heavens open and angels start to sing (i.e., the back pain magically gets better), I may return.

Thanks for listening over the past year and 178 posts.

Bonus Illness

Woke up with severe belly pain last night. After trying to pretend it wasn't that bad, I finally had to go to the ER. Not as easy as it sounds with TheHusband still in Rome. I tried calling a friend, but she didn't answer her phone. I finally called the only family I have in the area -- my cousin's in-laws. They are amazingly wonderful people who didn't bat an eyelash when they got a call at 2:45 am. They both came over. Bev stayed at the house so that there was someone here for Allison, and Ben came to the ER with me. It was very comforting for me to know that Allison was safe and that I had someone there for me, too.

It turned out to be a kidney stone. Like I need another painful malady. I mean WTF? I can report that pain from a kidney stone is worse than that from a herniated disc. Not that I really wanted to know that, mind you.

I got home around 6:40 am, all drugged up. I called a coworker at around 8:30 to tell him what happened and that I would make it in for a meeting at 1 pm. Not long after that my boss called and told me to be real, stay home, and take care of myself. So I did. I still feel generally crappy but not as bad as I did earlier. The friend who I couldn't reach last night is sleeping here tonight, just in case. I am hoping that Murphy's Law kicks in. Since I am planning for something bad to happen, nothing will...

I can't wait until TheHusband is home (tomorrow).

BrainSurgeons and a Bionic Back

So I went to see a BrainSurgeon. Actually, I have seen two different BrainSurgeons and another NeuroDoc in the past few weeks. I guess, since the issue is my spine, that I should really call them SpineSurgeons, but BrainSurgeon is just that much more nerve-wracking. Nerve wracking -- get it? No? Fine, be that way.

Anyway, I initially saw BrainSurgeon1 on Oct 6. He's a good surgeon, and I have referred patients to him for 12 years. In fact, he operated on TheHusband's ruptured disc several years ago. He is extremely personable (yes, yes, he's a surgeon -- shocking, isn't it?). But he didn't listen to me and my concerns. We had a nice conversation -- we talked for about 45 minutes. However, much of that was him talking about using a dynamic stabilization device as part of the fusion procedure. Given that FDA has ordered companies that market these devices to conduct post-market studies in order to evaluate reported serious adverse events, I was understandably leery. But he just barrelled on, when I voiced my concerns. Given my other gait and spine related issues, I really think that these systems are a Bad Idea™. I am sure that no surgeon likes working on other doctors, especially one who is in a related field and Has Opinions. But those opinions should be listened to and acknowledged.

So after that exam, I spoke with a very nice and really smart Hopkins neurosurgery resident that I know. I showed him my MRI, described my symptoms, and asked him who he would let operate on his back if it looked my mine and he felt like I do. He gave me a name, called up BrainSurgeon2, and asked if he would see me. So I had an appointment with a Hopkins neurosurgeon within two weeks of that discussion. To be honest, BrainSurgeon2 works part-time at Hopkins and the rest at another Baltimore hospital. I tromped up there with MRI in hand last Monday. He took a history and did a quick neuro exam (very quick -- he's a neurosurgeon). Then he and I got down to brass tacks. He agreed with BrainSurgeon1 in that I need a spinal fusion (eeek!) as well as decompression of that freaking nerve root that is being compressed. He did not think that a dynamic stabilization device was a good idea (yay!), although he did have some other off-label device uses to suggest (NO!).

He then called up a NeuroDoc to see if he could fit me in soon. Turned out that NeuroDoc and I worked together a few years ago, so I got in 2 days later. Unfortunately, NeuroDoc zapped me with electric shocks and stuck needles in me, making me not like him quite as much as I once had. I swear that this is a test which is much better to perform on others than to have done on oneself. Conclusion: "If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and is near a pond, it is a duck." He had to stick needles in me to come to that conclusion?

Given my sensitivity to medications, drugs to treat neuropathic pain are not an option. I've failed the majority of other conservative treatments (all those NeedleDoc appointments were in vain). So surgery it is. And thankfully I have health insurance (I will not mosey on down that conversational road right now -- I think that I am about as liberal as Eric in that respect).

So having received a 2nd opinion that I like better than the 1st one, and having failed conservative therapy, AND having refused a bionic back, I will undergo a single-level lumbar spinal fusion next week. Now all I have to do is convince myself that I won't die under anesthesia, wake up paralyzed, be worse off than I was before the surgery, or wake up during the surgery.

I haven't met the anesthesiologist yet -- I will certainly have some suggestions for him or her... Why do I suspect that I will be a really annoying hospital patient?

And let's not even go into the insanity that will be me when I am stuck at home for a few weeks.

When she cries, I hurt inside

Yesterday, I took ThePinkThing to the allergist. There has always been a potential shellfish allergy hanging over her head. When she was young, we not infrequently went to a local Chinese buffet for dinner. Several times, she developed red spots when we got home. These spots didn't seem to bother her, weren't typical hives, but there was this nagging suspicion that she was allergic to something there. Shellfish seemed the most likely culprit, as the primary reason we went to that restaurant was so that TheHusband could eat lots of crab. Eventually she had a blood test at her pediatrician's office, which turned out "weakly positive". So I finally decided to get her tested for real.

The allergist took a reasonable history and did a quick exam. TPT has never had an ear infection, doesn't have asthma, has no environmental allergies that I am aware of. She is probably the most boring kid he's seen all week. Then came the prick tests. I didn't want to tell her about it prior to the visit, because then she'd just worry and worry. So I told her after the doctor left (coward) and before the medical assistant came in to do the dirty work. TPT was tested for allergies to clams, crabs, shrimp, lobster (thermidor?), and scallops. He also tested her for allergies to wheat, milk, soy, peanuts, and tree-nuts. Why he tested those is beyond me, because she eats wheat, milk, soy, and peanut products with zeal and glee. Not too much in the way of tree-nuts, but not because of allergy. His reasoning for doing the tests was "just to be totally sure", which seemed weak. Probably a combo of CYA medicine and jack-up-the-price medicine. (Why yes, I am cynical. Thank you.) Add in the histamine and saline prick tests, and that meant that she had 14 pricks in her back.

Which comes to the point of the post. She cried. And begged me to stop them from doing it. I held her hand and kissed her head, and told her it would be over soon. After the tech left the room, I told her one of her favorite stories about when she was a baby to distract her for the 20 minutes we had to wait. She wanted me to take this picture so she could see what her back looked like.


The only one that turned up positive was the histamine one (which is done to be sure that the patient can mount an allergic skin response). So crab feast, here we come! TheHusband was ready to hop in the car and go off to Atlantic City to a really amazing all-you-can-eat seafood buffet, but we have plans this weekend, so I nixed that idea. He'll get to eat crabs to his heart's content, as will TPT (hopefully).

Ouch, Ooch, Eech, Ank

That was what my brother and I used to say when walking across the hot sand at the beach in Atlantic City. I say it today about my back. I'm off for epidural #3. See you all tomorrow, because I'm already a bit drugged up, and I can't imagine what I'd be writing after my second dose of Valium. Toodles.

Not-A-Vacation

So I am back from my long weekend away. A much-needed mini-vacation. Except it wasn't a vacation. It was a busman's holiday, so to speak -- filled with medical issues.

First the good parts:

• On Saturday night, I met up with four old friends from sleep-away camp. I haven't seen these "girls" in more than 25 years, and I last went to camp with them in the summer of 1979. Literally a week after I joined Facebook, one of my old camp friends friended me. That was a really pleasant bolt out of the blue. Over the next couple of months, we talked and decided to have a "Real Life" get-together. I must admit that I was a bit nervous. I am no longer 13 or 17 (or whatever I was when we last met up). I am over forty and feel it (and am starting to look it). My adolescent insecurities reared their ugly heads -- what if they thought I was stupid or ugly or boring? What if they all liked each other but not me? Stupid, I know, but events like this really do turn me into a quivering bag of internal insecurities. But (not shockingly) I had an excellent time. If you asked me specifically what we talked about, I don't think I could answer you. We talked to some degree about our kids and husbands and parents and siblings. We didn't talk about our jobs or politics or current events. We reminisced about things we did at camp. I either had a much worse time than they did and am suppressing my memories or I just don't dwell too much on the past (which is the most likely reason for my lack of memories). It was an extremely pleasant 3 hours, and we are hoping to get together again, next time with the families.


• The other good part was getting to hang out with my best college friends (handily married to each other) at their lake house. They have 2 daughters, one of whom is a few months younger than ThePinkThing (D1). They play together nicely and try to exclude my friends' younger daughter (D2 -- age 3). We love spending time with them. Most of the time. Well, not when we visit them at the lake, actually. Two years ago, TPT and D1 were jumping on their beds, when TPT fell, banging her face on the headboard, causing a laceration above her right eyebrow. That required a trip to the ER and 4 stitches. The next night TPT peed in her bed. When we arrived home, I found a tick in my back, which TH had to remove with tweezers. Not a stellar trip. Last summer, TH lost his glasses in the lake. We had high hopes for this weekend, with a trip to the NJ State Fair (aka the Sussex County Farm and Horse Show) and a trip to a local beach at the lake planned.

We drove up the evil I-95 corridor from MD to NJ, leaving around 10 o'clock on Saturday morning, and arriving around 3:45 pm. I swear that *&^%$-ing drive just gets longer and longer each time. Delaware is an absolute nightmare. The NJ Turnpike (which is an excellent road when there is no traffic) was dreadful for about 7 miles. There was a bonus back-up on the Garden State Parkway, near to our final destination (my grandparents' place). Five hours and 45 minutes to go 230 miles. We did have a nice visit with my grandparents, who I love to pieces.

As we were leaving my grandparents' house, I tripped over a carpet outside the back door. Those who know me know that I trip fairly easily, but I don't often fall down. When I do, it is usually a bad fall. This one was one of those -- one of those falls in slow-motion for me and for the onlookers (which included ThePinkThing). I tried to catch onto the railing but missed, so I went head first down about 3 concrete steps. That fucking hurt. I whacked my arm, belly, and head, and scraped my hands and knees. Thankfully I didn't break anything, but I raised a spectacular set of bruises. I didn't notice the worst part until Monday, actually. Apparently I landed smash onto a small cyst that is on my belly, at my waistline. On Monday I noticed that it was swollen. By yesterday, it was hurting and today it was red, hot, swollen, and really painful. Yay, an infection. So (never wanting to treat my own self) I dropped by a friend's office. He offered to lance and drain it. I said "No freaking way! How about some nice antibiotics?" So now I am on antibiotics for a giant painful subcutaneous infection on my belly. I am falling apart. The bruises in the picture are 4 days old and healing.

No big deal you say -- it was just a fall, nothing broken, just some bruises, and a small infection. What are you whining about? Why the glum face? Well, I haven't mentioned TheHusband's 9 hour emergency room visit on Monday, have I?

He'd been complaining about belly pain on and off for a few days. On Sunday, I noticed that his potbelly looked bigger than usual, and pointed that out. He agreed. On Monday the pain was a bit worse, but we went to the fair anyway. About 30 minutes into the fair, he was white, sweaty and looked like he was going to pass out. He said that the belly pain was worse and localized in his right lower quadrant. "Crap, that could very well be appendicitis," I thought. He was clearly dehydrated and improved a little after drinking 16 oz of water. We decided to go to the ER anyway, because the belly pain wasn't any better. After much discussion, we decided that B would drive us back to the lake house (~1 hour away), while T would remain with the 3 kids at the fair. We'd pick up our car and drive to the hospital in Scranton where TPT had gotten her stitches. Of course it was a Monday afternoon, so the ER was packed. After about 2.5 hours, TH was taken into a room. Eventually he had a belly CT (yum, drink that contrast now...), which didn't show a surgical abdomen. So at 11 pm we trekked back to B&T's house. TH's belly is still a little distended and it still hurts (although it is a little better now), but at least he didn't require surgery. It is off to the doctor on Monday for answers.

Thankfully, TPT was clueless about the ER visit. She had a great time at the fair, answered a question correctly at the Census Booth (who was president of the US in 1790?), saw (and petted) a boatload of animals, rode on an elephant(!) and a pony, and went on about 40,000 carnival rides. A good time was had by all of the kids, which was really the point of the trip to the fair.

But you do see why I need a vacation to recover from my vacation, don't you?

Off to visit that doctor I spoke about

Today is the day. Wish me luck. By the time you read this, I will be hopped on drugs and hopefully enjoying my epidural. And specifically not thinking about all of the potential serious adverse events that may occur with an epidural steroid injection.

The doctor who wields the needle

I have a date with a long spinal needle in a few weeks. Between my schedule and NeedleDoc's schedule, I can't have my epidural injection until July 2. TheHusband will come and get to watch. I suspect that he'll be much more interested in what is on the screen (the procedure is done under fluoroscopy) than in holding my hand. I am not looking forward to it, but at least I'll be all drugged up. :-) And the doc has done about 40,000 of these things.

Stupid back.

Neurology 101 -- Find the abnormality

At least it explains the back pain.