This is a continuation of A long walk  parts 1 and 2

When I woke up the next morning, I couldn’t stand the light…in any form.

Okay now I was getting really scared.

I asked Einstein to take me to the immediate care center.  His license was suspended, and he refused to risk it, so I drove myself.  Before I left though, I called my parents and told them what had been happening to me, just so someone else knew.

By the time I arrived at the office, my head was spinning again, my vision was blurry, and the nausea was overwhelming, so I just laid in the car for a few minutes.  Even with the air conditioning on, the car was too hot to stay for long, so I forced myself to walk in the front door.  I made it to the counter to register, uttered my name and collapsed on the floor.  When I came to, I was in the emergency room at Decatur Memorial Hospital.

Thankfully I carry a sheet of paper in my wallet (right next to my driver’s license) with all of my medications, surgeries, doctor’s names, and emergency contacts on it.  The hospital found the list, and had already called my parents. They were on their way down.  The doctor was performing a spinal tap on me in the emergency room when my parents arrived.  Several MRI’s were performed, the Lumbar puncture, and it was concluded that I had a CSF leak.

I was in the hospital in Decatur for a week, receiving a continuous supply of caffeine and sol-medrol via iv.  I didn’t feel like it was helping at all, in fact pumping that amount of stimulants in my body while telling me I had to lay completely flat was making me homicidal.  The hospital listed me as a fall risk (no surprise there) and set alarms on my bed to prevent me from getting up to use the bathroom on my own.  After wetting the bed a few times while waiting for assistance, I suggested that they put a foley catheter in instead.  They didn’t.  Instead they put a ‘GPS tracker’ on me.

I was livid! So much so that I really began to show my ass.  I informed them that I was leaving their backwoods, no brain hospital, and going home to where doctors actually had some brains.  (I didn’t know how I was actually going to do it, but I was leaving)

In fact, just to show them they couldn’t “hold me”

I slipped the tracker off my wrist without breaking the band and threw it at the nurse when she finally came in to respond to another alarm I had set off.

Yes I CAN be quite the asshole, when I feel trapped.  and NO, I am not proud of that, but it is true.

The hospital began trying to arrange an ambulance transport back to Chicago…. like insurance was going to cover that….  No no, just sign my discharge papers and I will be on my way.

I called my neurologist in Chicago, and he asked, “Why don’t they just do a blood patch?”  I responded, “because they are idiots”.  (not that I knew what a blood patch was either or where I could “pick one up”)

I would soon find out……