Vertebral What?

Never in a million years did I envision myself laying alone in a hospital room at the age of 39, with a newborn baby at home, being told I could die. But just a few weeks ago that’s exactly where I was. I went from living my best life to living a nightmare in an instant.

Postpartum recovery was going surprisingly well after delivering our precious little daughter. Especially compared to my torturous recovery after Henry, which by the way, nobody warned me was a thing! I thought the hard part was delivering the baby. Once I made it past the “ring of fire”, I thought I could pat myself on the back for delivering a baby with no pain meds, and set out to enjoy the fruits of my labor. Turns out recovering from pushing an eight-pound baby out can be a real bitch.

I wasn’t so naive this second time around. I prepped my mind and body for the weeks after the baby’s arrival. The bathroom was stocked with all the unmentionables, that I will mention for others going into this birthing thing clueless, like me. Your welcome. Suppositories, Epsom salt, lanolin, nursing/sleeping bras, elephant pads (no really they are huge), grandma underwear, and the kids and I premade padsicles. Yes padsicles are a thing and you will love them. Here is the recipe.

And then IT hit. One week to the day after giving birth to our little Leah I spent the night crying in pain while pacing the hallway. I couldn’t find a comfortable way to lay in bed without my neck pulsating and my head throbbing. Little Leah should have been cuddled up to me. Instead, I was fighting the urge not to have a complete meltdown. I was so beyond the point of pain that I just wanted to throw myself on the floor and have the ultimate temper tantrum.

During the last few weeks of my pregnancy, I complained to my doctor about joint pain. Blood work was done to check for lupus, rheumatoid arthritis, and a few other potential causes. All the tests came back negative so we chalked it up to a weird pregnancy side effect and planned to retest my numbers after the baby was born. That being said, when my neck started to throb after delivery my heart sunk. I realized this pain wasn’t just a pregnancy thing, something was really wrong.

I went to the walk-in clinic, spoke to my doctor, and chatted with the on-call nurse over the phone. They all stated that it was probably muscular discomfort. Most likely due to holding the baby, looking down at the baby while nursing, or even my sleeping position. They suggested ice, heat, and over the counter pain meds. Since I was nursing getting prescription medication or a shot to relieve the pain was off the table.

The intense pain continued for a couple of days without any relief. I finally broke down and asked my husband to bring me to the ER, but not before stopping at the store to buy formula. I was not leaving the ER with them telling me I was nursing so they couldn’t do anything. I knew in my gut something was wrong, and it wasn’t a sore muscle.

I pleaded with the ER doctor, over tears and hyperventilation, to do something as I couldn’t continue to be in this amount of pain. She gave me two options: pain meds or scans. Umm…scans seemed a little dramatic so I opted for the medication route. I was given so many prescription pain pills and muscle relaxers I thought I was going to be flying high. Sixty minutes later and there was absolutely no relief. Now the doctor had a different look in her eye. Even though I couldn’t quite see her entire facial reaction through the mask, she seemed concerned. It was decided to give me another round of meds before sending me in for scans. More meds, same results. Still no relief. I sent a text to my husband, who was still anxiously waiting in the parking lot roughly 2 hours later. Because as you know, Covid-19 doesn’t allow visitors to the hospital. I was going this alone and it was apparent I wasn’t going to be coming out anytime soon. I suggested he should just go home and help my momma with those kiddos.

I was sent in for a CT scan. One long, agonizing hour passed before a nurse popped his head into my room. Has the doctor told you what’s going on yet? Umm…no. He informed me she was on the phone with Seattle hospitals working with a treatment team on a plan. The CT scan came back showing dissected arteries.

And just like that my world was rocked. As soon as he left the room, I obviously took to google to figure out what the heck dissected arteries meant exactly.

The ER doctor and subsequently a vascular surgeon explained to me that I was suffering from a bilateral vertebral artery dissection. Meaning two arteries in the back of my neck were “split” and I was only receiving 50% of the normal blood and oxygen supply to my brain. Luckily, if that word really even makes sense here, it didn’t seem apparent that I had suffered a stroke.

In my naivety, my first question was if I was going to be able to go home that night. Clearly I was not going home and was admitted. As I was wheeled towards my room I saw the sign above the door: Intensive Care Unit. Shit, this was like a big deal.

That night and unfortunately many more after were awful. My pain was at a 10 out of 10 for hours. I had morphine injections, pain medications, blood pressure shots. Nurses were on the phone with the doctor several times asking what they could do as I had maxed out on morphine. All the while I watched the machines attached to my body. My heart rate soared and my blood pressure was up to 190. It was very much like an out of body experience.

At one point while dozing in and out of sleep I heard the doctor speaking with the hospital staff at the station outside my door. They were confirming the Covid-19 policy that absolutely no visitors were allowed on this floor unless someone was actively dying. So every single time I woke up, I would ever so slowly open my eyes, because I knew if I saw my husband or mom there by my side I was a goner. I was never so happy to be alone.

Due to Covid-19 and all the necessary restrictions at medical facilities on visitors, I was in a really tough place. Doctors would tell me about my condition which I would desperately try to remember. Then I would pass the information onto my family at home. They were confused, and not quite sure of everything that was happening. As I am sure a lot got lost in translation. Heck, I was drugged up to the max. Eventually, the doctors began calling my husband and family to keep them in the loop and get approval on my treatment.

I was eventually transferred to Seattle for additional testing and monitoring. They believed I ruptured my arteries during delivery but they weren’t really sure. So after a few days with the pain under control and no real treatment other than pain management, so to speak, I was sent home. I was armed with medications, referrals, and restrictions to take it easy for 6 months, with a check-up in 3 months to check the healing process of the arteries.

After being home for a whopping 12 hours I started to feel the pain slowly building again. My blood pressure was extremely high. I went back to the ER where they concluded after another scan that the vertebral dissection on the left side of my neck had grown larger. I was again sent to Seattle via ambulance to work with a Neurology team on an achievable pain management plan.

This time, with my sister-in-law gently guiding these doctors with her knowledge and love, we got the pain managed without IVs. I would be able to duplicate the pain management at home. Sounds like something we should have done the first time right? I also asked more poignant questions this go-round.

Why are we not doing surgery, putting stents in the arteries to heal them, and lessen my chance of a stroke? Because the arteries are located in my brain stem, and that’s not a place they want to do surgery if it is at all preventable.

How will I know if the arteries completely split, or if things get worse? You will be dead.

Do I have aneurysms? Can they dislodge? Am a likely to have a stroke? Yes.

What causes more damage to a dissected artery? Sneezing, coughing, throwing up, and pushing too hard to use the restroom. Moving too fast or staying too still. No activities that can cause your head/neck to jerk or move too far.

What can’t I do? How do I raise a newborn and two other kiddos once I get home? No driving, don’t move your head too fast, don’t lift anything heavy, and keep your blood pressure down.

So that is where we are now. I am home trying not to cough (yeah, right) and live life balancing all my new normal limits. Being a mom to two fantastically rambunctious kiddos and keeping my blood pressure down is proving a challenge. Falling in love with my new little baby girl yet not being able to give her a bath, nurse her when she is hungry, or pick her up from her car seat is heartbreaking. But I am here still, and for that, I am eternally grateful. I will get through these six months of recovery. Life, sorta as I knew it, will be right here waiting for me. I am forever thankful for everyone that came together to help my family as I was in the hospital and continues to be here in the midst of this long recovery. My family has dropped everything to come here or help from afar during this crazy Coronavirus time.

Everything is going to work out, its just its job.