Shall we Tap?

It was September 13,2005, the sun was shining bright, the birds were chirping, and I was trying to force a waffle down my throat while my dad was parking the truck outside of my house. It was the day - the day of reckoning - the day for that big long cold silver needle to ease it's way up my back and into my spinal cavity. Yuck - I think I am gonna heave.
My dad got me together, put me in his truck and drove me to Dr.Rampal's office. Approaching the door I could feel the sweat building in my palms. I was scared shitless!
I went in, announced myself, and waited for my anticipated turn. The door squeaked and it was slightly ajar as a raspy voice called my name. No turning back now.
I went to the procedure room and changed into the oh so fashionable paper gown. I jumped up on the frigid steel table and scooched myself into a semi-comfortable position. The doctor came in and was ready to begin.
Now the first thing that put me on edge was the fact that he could not do an x-ray due to another illness so he had to go about his business blindsided. There would be no nifty video on the screen for him to guide his needle up my back - he had to feel it with his fingers and eyes.
He told me to lay down in a fetal position and hold my knees close to my chest. He administered a decent dosage of numbing medication so I would not feel a thing. I was warned I would feel a slight pinch as the spinal tap needle entered my body. Slight was an understatement. Needless to say he gave me more drugs to ease the pain.
OK so it was in, the needle was in and it was slowly penetrating through my spinal cavity up my canal. The point of this procedure was to give a accurate diagnosis, extract fluid for testing, and measure the pressure that was lying around my brain.
We got more than we bargained for. I could feel a wet substance rolling down my back. There was so much extra cerebrospinal fluid, which protects your brain and spinal cord from injury, that it was running out of the small pin hole pricked in my back like a waterfall. The doctor filled four tubes of water that had leaked from my back. After some draining, he hooked up a cylinder-shaped device to the needle. This was to measure my intracranial pressure, which would be a deciding factor in my diagnosis.
Inside of this tube there was a ball. The amount of intracranial pressure inside of my head would blow a small white ball up the tube. The tube was numbered and where the ball stays is the level of pressure inside of your head.
On a normal person the level should range from 8-18, with 18 being somewhat risky. My head nearly blew the ball out of the hole. I came in at a whopping 35. This meant I was almost double the norm. What no wonder I had headaches!
Finally, he was finished and was ready to remove the needle. I thought someone was walking on my back, as the pressure of the needle sliding out caused some uneasiness. The needle was out. I was told not to move. I layed there on the cold slab while he put a bandage over the hole in my lower back.
The four tubes of cerebrospinal fluid were given to my dad and sent directly to the hospital for immediate testing. I was placed in a over sized yellow recliner made from pleather. I was not allowed to move for the next hour. If you move, there is a chance the hole will not close and air will seep in causing an infection.
My dad returned from the hospital and joined me in the recovery area. The doctor then came in to deliver the news. I, in fact, was suffering from pseudo tumor cerebri. This translates into "false brain tumor" due to high pressure caused by the buildup or poor absorption of cerebrospinal fluid in the space surrounding the brain.
Our next step was to discuss treatment, lifestyle change and recovery. The doctor suggested right away that I be sent for a number of brain scans while he waited for the results of the fluid tests.
I was prescribed Diamox to help with the fluid release and Motrin in the 800mg each capacity. He also suggested I start taking Darvocet for the pain while he looked for a suitable headache treatment.
I went home that day flustered. I wondered how this could have happened and how was I going to fix it. Could I just ignore it? And did I mention I hate medication.

New doctor New diagnosis

I alerted my family doctor of the results the first neurologist delivered to me. He was pissed to say the least. He did some research and found a different doctor for me to try.That's when I met Dr.Rampal, my saving grace.
Dr.Rampal, a petite yet outspoken Indian man, welcomed me into his office and listened to my health woes. I recited the story to him of what has been happening and he scratched his head and said I think I know what is wrong. He charged toward my face with a tiny flashlight and told me to look straight but direct my eyes toward the corner. He shined the light into the crease of my eyes and made a noise of agreement to himself.
"I believe you have Pseudotumor Cerebri," he said.
I thought what in the hell is that. That doesn't even sound real. Is he playing a cruel joke? He explained to me that this was a term that meant "false brain tumor" that causes a build up of pressure within your cranium which causes headaches, dizziness, vomitting, and even vision loss. But he had yet to tell me the kicker. The only way to properly diagnose PTC is to perform a spinal tap a patient. I have heard of that before and I was instantly scared. The thought of a needle the length of my leg piercing into my back left me a little uneasy.
Dr.Rampal strongly advised me to have the procedure. He informed me it was the only way to be absolute about what was going on in my head and the revealed information would assist him in my treatment. I uttered the words "I'll do it," but trust me I was reluctant. Atleast I knew in 2 weeks I would have some sort of answer and I could possibly be on the road to recovery.

What is it?

I stayed in the hospital for a few hours where they poked, prodded and badgered my body. I was hooked up to a heart monitor and then sent in for a CAT scan. The results came back positive, meaning my symptoms of earlier in the night were unexplainable as far as the staff was concerned. Now what?
I was sent home and given the directions to consult my doctor in the morning. Gee thanks a lot!
In the morning, I still had some symptoms of the night before. I was unable to walk properly and my speech was still a bit slurred. My aunt drove me to the doctor cause I was not permitted to drive myself. My family doctor immediately recommended I consult with a neurologist.
Luckily, I found a neurologist that was willing to see me within a day's time.
I visited this doctor, who might I add I would never suggest anyone see, and he told me I was stressed out, that I was suffering from vertigo, and ordered me to get an MRI.
Because I suffer from a severe case of claustrophobia, I had to go to a special facility that gives a stand-up MRI. The results were sent over to the doctor who then called me with the news. He told me with a passive attitude that there was nothing wrong with me and it was just a fluke occurrence that night.
Ummm, yeah OK - I live with pounding headaches and then loose all of my faculties and I am fine. That diagnosis left me with a rotting pit in my stomach. I had to find a new doctor. And fast!

Hospital Blues

It was August 9, 2005, and I was shopping in the monster of all department stores, Wal-Mart. Now I don't know about some of you, but I find shopping with my mother in Wal-Mart to be a chore - almost comparable to scrubbing a filthy toilet. And of course without fail, this day like any other, my mother wandered away leaving me standing silent in an isle full of bargain hunting idiots.
I immediately felt sweaty and overwhelmed. My head was ringing like an overused bell. I had to get out of there. I was not sure if the atmosphere of the large yet trashy department store was to blame for my out of body experience - or was it possible that the "aliens" were back?
My fit of frenzy launched me on a store wide excursion for my mom. There she was pushing her cart nonchalantly, as I was suffering. I grabbed her attention and let her know it was time to leave. I thought once I was out of the craziness of Wal-Mart I would feel better.
Not the case.
My body sat in the driver seat, turned the key, hands on steering wheel and foot planted down on the pedal began to drive the car away. It was weird. I was aware of my surroundings but could not control my body. It was like I was having a double sided stroke. My mouth could utter no words, my body could muster no energy, all I could do is cry.
After about a quarter of a mile of turtle crawling in the car my mom made me pull over so she could resume the driving duty. (Now I knew it was bad cause my mom doesn't drive because of her own illness.)
She got me to her house and made me stay on the couch. I was able to studder out a few words. I just wanted to go home. She wasn't having it. I swore I was fine - then I fell off the couch!
Before long I was crying in hysterics because the 911 crew was inside my mom's house strapping me to a board. My headaches came to a head, popped like a pimple and landed me in the hospital.
That was the beginning of my battle.

Aches and pains

It seems as though people always have some sort of daily ache or pain. And I am here to tell you that I am no different.
I spent the better part of 2005 suffering from daily pounding headaches. I ate Aleve like they were free samples at the local candy shop. They worked for a little while (like one minute of relief per day), but there came a time when OTC drugs could no longer help my head.
The next few months felt like I was swimming in a fish bowl. The headaches were there when I woke up and still hanging out in my head when I would go to bed. I kept telling myself I needed to visit a doctor, however my bullheaded attitude kept me away from the physician.
Finally, almost a year had passed and my headaches were like my fashion. It was the same as wearing shoes, I always wore a headache. But now they had turned from just a nagging pain to an entire body crippling emotion. It was apparent my body had been invaded. I didn't think it was aliens but it sure did feel strange.
My days were spent feeling dizzy and glaring through blurry eyes. I kept it all to myself until that fateful August night.