This is spinal tap

On the road to becoming a proper psychiatrist, my husband has had to endure some specializing time in Internal Medicine, which seems like the anything goes field of medicine where most patients end up. Just recently he switched to Neurology, where he will learn how to tell the difference between a patient with true neurological problems and one with true psychological problems. I’ve always resented the field of Neurology and their particular tools of torture, including the lumbar puncture (aka spinal tap) and that goddamn reflex hammer.

I quickly learned how best to deal with the reflex hammer as a child. I was constantly annoyed by the doctor’s insistence on using this thing, and while I had some small understanding of the concept of reflexes, I resented the fact that doctors had free reign to just hit people with a hammer. The result was an uncontrollable urge on my part to exaggerate the resulting kick, which usually ended up square in the physician’s abdomen.

One time, however, I ended up kicking him square in the nuts, but being the age I was, I knew not of nuts or the type of pain men experience when hit there with any force. I knew it was perhaps a hard kick because of the short squeak he made, followed by about five minutes of saying nothing at all. But I didn’t realize I had hit the family jewels, so to speak – I had no regrets, and was, perhaps, just a little bit proud of myself for causing him so much pain. You might think, at this point, that perhaps I was the child of Satan, but in all fairness my parents consisted of a drunken fairy and an obsessive compulsive dwarf. All I know is that doctor kept a relatively safe distance from me when using the hammer after that, and he was impossible to kick. Ah well.

Now I have no doubts that the spinal tap is surely a tool of Beelzebub, a means of marking future minions in his fiery domain. When I was around fourteen, I was admitted to the hospital with a relatively high fever (around 104) and a headache to beat the band. I was crying from the pain of the headache, and coupled with the fever but lacking all the normal cold and flu symptoms, I was a bit worried. The doctor on call ordered a spinal tap, but I argued with him, having recently read an article that said if there was any sort of intercranial pressure, a spinal tap could make the brain stem move and result in brain death. I said I thought a CAT scan was perhaps in order to make sure there was no pressure, and he assented, grudgingly. Hey, Mr. Doctor Von PompousAss, I didn’t want to be the one in one thousand that suffers brain death because of a simple mistake.

The CAT scan showing me free of pressure, I had to face my doom. The lumbar puncture. I tried to think positively, I mean, I loved the movie This is Spinal Tap, and now I could say I had a spinal tap. That was kinda cool, right? Uh, not really, but sometimes you have to grasp at straws. Unfortunately for me, I was at Vanderbilt Hospital, which is a teaching hospital, so my spinal tap would be performed by an intern who had never done one before and supervised by a resident. No real doctor would be in the vicinity. It was the wild frontier, I was the kill.

When Intern Numbnuts and Resident McMoron entered the room, they told me that this would be an extra special treat for them because noone ever gets to “practice” on children. Trying to ignore the usage of the word “practice”, I tried hard to mask my lack of enthusiasm. Special treat for doctors usually means special torture for patients, and even at the young age of fourteen I knew that well. McMoron instructed me to lie on my side while the nurse held my hand (my parents had been summarily dismissed from the room). Imagine my dismay when I heard Numbnuts say “Oh my god! Is THIS the needle you use?!?”. The nurse squeezed my hand and gave me an encouraging smile while I rolled my eyes.

Suddenly, McMoron shouted “Wait!!”.

“What?!” Numbnuts sounded shocked.

“You need to apply some anesthesia”.

“Oh, yea, right”.

After applying the numbing solution, I braced for the needle entry. Pain. Horrifying, terrible pain. I screamed holy hell at the top of my lungs.

“Hmmm, maybe we should use more anesthetic?” McMoron wondered.

“Okey dokey”, replied Numbnuts.

More anesthesia was applied, and I prepared myself again. Pain. So much pain. At that moment, the entire lexicon of crude, rude, and offensive words known to me was released, in very loud volume, and probably taught a few of the kids in the children’s hospital a thing or two. I have no doubts that I referred to one or both doctors with the “C” word.

“MORE anesthetic?” queried Numbnuts, uncertainly.

“Sure” answered McMoron.

I honestly didn’t know if I had it in me to endure this horrible feeling again, but I waited. And of course, it still hurt to high heaven. I screamed again, bereft of words or any feeling beyond the excruciating pain at the base of my spine.

“Ok, let’s…” McMoron stammered. I saw both of them backing towards the door, stuttering something about finding another doctor. I am quite certain I heard the sound of shoes squeaking on the floor outside my door once they exited, as if they were running for their lives. Yeah, you better run, nancyboys.

My parents burst into the room, fear for my young life reflecting in their eyes. I looked at them, managed a smile, and told them that the young doctors needed some help. Shortly, the door swung open, and in walked The Professional, looking slick and sure in his tightly pressed white coat. Numbnuts and McMoron cowered in behind him. With a snap of his fingers, The Professional had the nurse escort my parents out of the room, then had her get me back into position, with one hand squeezing mine and the other holding me into place. The Professional spoke not a word. McMoron started with “shouldn’t we use more anes…” and suddenly stopped. Silence.

“That does it”. The Professional left the room as quickly as he came, Numbnuts and McMoron were left to clean up, shock and awe in their eyes. I felt nothing. Nothing.

As they left, Numbnuts stammered a thank you. Yea, you’re welcome. Jackass.

A couple of years later I had another spinal tap, this time without incident, although it still hurt. I can’t imagine a spinal tap ever not hurting, unless you’d been anesthetized three times and finally had a doctor do it right. Still, it was with some glee that my husband told me that now he is in Neurology he might get to perform a lumbar puncture.

I stared at him coldly, and told him I am not sure I can stay married to a devil who performs spinal taps. It just might be a dealbreaker.