OCR Text |
Show 194 Blood Patch for a Holey Quilt "A what?" I am asking/Dr. Chappie, as she stands next to my bed. "A blood patch," she is saying. She and Dr. Howard have consulted with other experts across the nation concerning this overdose-under-dose cycle, the possible causes, and possible solutions. She takes a piece of scrap paper left on my table by a more disorganized nurse and is drawing a picture of the dura, blanketing my spinal cord, and the many holes which she is now saying surely must be in it. She is filling in the drawing where the blood would be placed with pencilled lead and filling in my lack of understanding of all things anatomical with her patient explanations. "It won't be a pleasant experience for you," she is adding, "because we're pretty sure now that there are at least several holes." She is taking a deep breath, blowing it out, as if contemplating the details of the upcoming task, and continuing. "It's not like a single tiny hole that just won't close, from a single needle stick from something like a spinal tap." She is looking at her drawing. "From the size of the bulge in your back - and from the intensity of your spinal headaches - I'd say we'll be trying to patch lots of holes, including the one, presumably, from the catheter we couldn't find." "Let's go do it, then," I am saying with a strong sigh. It is a show of bravado and we both know it. |