I’m a bit wrecked at the moment—anxious, nervous, worried—as I lie awake in bed thinking about the needle that will be inserted into my back tomorrow.
My rational self knows this will bring me relief from pain. She understands this procedure has helped many who suffer from similar ailments and knows many women who have enjoyed pain-free labor and delivery thanks to an epidural. She recognizes this procedure will be brief in duration (less than 15 minutes), and acknowledges her doctor’s skill and expertise.
The problem is, I’m not my rational self today and haven’t been too rational for two months. Not since I met with the surgeon who referred me to his colleague, the pain specialist, and sent me back to physical therapy.
This time with traction.
Typing these words, I recall how nervous I was about traction and remind myself how wrong I was about it. Traction, together with physical therapy, has helped me heal, while also allowing me ten minutes of uninterrupted relaxation twice-weekly.
So what’s different about the epidural?
Is it the fact of the needle? Or is it the combination of the needle and needing to lie still? As a platelets donor, I had to lie still for close to an hour while connected to an apheresis machine with two needles, one in each arm. This was both inconvenient and uncomfortable. Yet I did it many times, voluntarily.
I’ve slept fitfully every night for the past week, awakened not by lower back pain but by a sense of urgency at hourly intervals. Sometimes a snippet of a dream lingers, or a stray thought tickles my brain, until I become aware that I’m consciously willing myself to stop counting down to April 15th.
Tonight I’m prepared for 3:00 AM. I’ll roll onto my left side, reposition the pillow between my outstretched legs, and exhale a gentle encouragement:
Go back to sleep, you big chicken. You’ll be okay.