Shawn P. B. Robinson

Friday, February 3, 2017

Lumbar Puncture…

I almost didn’t go.

The doctor who declared two days before that I’d had a seizure also decided that I should go to the Urgent Care Neurological Centre (UCNC) in London (not London, UK… London, ON). Since I didn’t want to believe that I’d had a seizure, I thought it might be smart not to go to the UCNC. I reasoned that there probably wasn’t anything seriously wrong with me, so if I didn’t go, they wouldn’t be able to confirm a diagnosis of a seizure and I wouldn’t lose my driver’s license.

It seemed reasonable to me at the time.

I did, however, end up going. When I arrived at the hospital, it wasn’t long before I met the entire team, and they all agreed that I had certainly had a seizure and that I would lose my license.

It’s hard to realize you’re losing something like that. There’s a certain sense of independence and freedom in having your ability to drive. There’s also a recognition that you’re trusted to move a few thousand pounds of steel and glass around at a hundred km/hour. Who doesn’t want that privilege?

I know in a lot of ways, losing a driver’s license is a small thing compared with many other challenges, but that day it seemed like a major thing.

The seizure, however, was not the only thing they were concerned about. They suspected there might be more going on (the question is, “What caused the seizure?”), and they recommended a lumbar puncture.

If you’re not familiar with a lumbar puncture, imagine someone taking a six-inch needle and shoving it in your spine so they can remove some of your spinal fluid. That should give you a pretty good idea of what it’s like since that is exactly what a lumber puncture is. 🙂

I am truly grateful that they did not show me the size of the needle before they stuck it in me. I had just assumed it was an ordinary, tiny needle. I guess I never knew I kept my spinal fluid so deep within my back.

When they found the spinal fluid and removed it from where it should have remained, they tested it and found out something was seriously wrong. The doctor diagnosed me that day with a viral infection in my brain called encephalitis and admitted to the hospital.

I hadn’t planned on staying at the hospital for longer than the morning or into the afternoon, so I hadn’t come prepared with any clothes (other than what I was wearing, of course), but the hospital provided me with two gowns, each inappropriately open on the back. I just wore one properly and the other backwards so that each one could overcome the other’s limitations.

That night, I think I slept in a room in the emergency ward while they worked to get me a room on one of the main floors. I remember laying there uncomfortably, listening to all the noise and commotion, but at least I knew a bit more of what was going on.

To be continued…

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