On the 27th, Patrick again decided to call the surgeon's office to talk with Inga about why on god's green earth the surgery centre was dragging it's arse and failing to phone surgeons back with schedules. I didn't even think Ducic's office would be open, as it was two days past christmas; I thought they'd be out until after New Years. Surprisingly, staff answered the phone and connected Pat to Melanie, the medical secretary and contact, and even more surprisingly, the surgery centre had phoned back. Apparently, Inga had spent a significant amount of time giving the centre immense amounts of shit. She even tried negotiating for a better date, but she did well more than fantastic for us.
January 8. Wednesday. Next Wednesday. Less than a week out now. She really tried hard and lobbied for Jan 2 or 6. No luck there, so I'll totally take the 8th. I'm not even scared or worried. I don't think anyone has ever wanted surgery so badly, except probably other neuralgia patients quite literally begging for their lives.
And it's not a day too soon. I spent another few hours in hospital this morning because I simply could not bear the pain. It did take Patrick, Alex, and Dad pestering before Pat simply came home from work and told me that he was taking me and that was it. I'm glad he did. I feel as poorly now as I did in the immediate aftermath of the LP. It started Sunday evening and has been getting progressively worse and worse and worse since then. My brain was exploding and being compressed by my skull.
The best analogy I have for this is Bruce Banner v. Hulk. My secret is that I'm always in pain, but for the most part, I can manage it so some extent. Well, starting Sunday, Bruce began losing all control to the pain, and by Tuesday, the Hulk had completely taken over. Bruce didn't 'exist' anymore. It took some severe, intense medications to make Hulk go asleep for a bit and let Bruce come out for a bit.
Luckily, since we had a date to give the ER doctor, he took pity on me and wrote a script for some serious narcotic painkillers to tide me through til Wednesday. I don't quite know how I'm going to make it back home tomorrow with me Dad. I'm certain over-doing it with car rides and people and stuff and family and travel within a short week-long period set this super-bout off. I'll have to take some serious Benadryl so I can pass the fuck out on the drive home (so will Worf, so he doesn't puke in the car on the way home).
It's going to be a really, really shitty next week. But for the first time in so, so long, I have something to look forward to - relief.
