... when he wrote, "The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men/Gang aft agley"
Our plan was to get up on Thursday at the normal time, head to my office for the weekly Weight Watchers meeting, then hit the road for Canada. With such a nice early start, we'd have lots of evening in Thunder Bay to play tourist and relax. I was really looking forward to a cheery, no pressure holiday.
Things went agley. My head started to ache just after we left home. It got progressively worse until I finally had to admit it was another migraine from the lumbar puncture. We were nearly to my office but we turned around and headed back to the St. Francis hospital. By the time we got there I was pretty much toast, by which I mean I couldn't think, stand up, or anything. My sweetie fetched me out of the car and muscled my shaking self into emerg. He answered all their questions and petted me and told me over and over that it'd be ok.
After putting me flat, wrapping me in warmed blankets and dosing me up with a *fabulous* narcotic cocktail they did another blood patch. Apparently in a very small minority of cases these patches don't stay over the hole in the dura and the csf can start leaking again. Whee. The doc said that a 10 hour drive wouldn't likely cause me any harm but it'd be damn uncomfortable.
We were home by early afternoon with more narcotics. Paul put me to bed and figured out two configurations in the car that allow a nearly 6'1" Soly to lie flat, and he spent a little time on the phone. Then, zoom. We went as far as Superior WI on Thursday, then to Thunder Bay on Friday. Grad on Saturday. Home again in one jump on Sunday.
So, remember that beaten-up feeling I mentioned before...? Holy crap. *Now* I feel beaten up.