I left work early and rode my bike out to my doctor’s office as planned.  I was escorted back to have my vitals taken and sign some paperwork.  After the nurse leaves the room, I can hear them talking about the fact I rode my bike there.  One of the nurses goes on about how she used to ride across the Second Street Bridge.

I’ve done this before.  I know the doctor will come in and talk to me briefly before another nurse leads me to the treatment room.

He does.  I tell him this will probably be my last epidural – that I’m scared shitless of them now.

The nurse takes me to the treatment room.  I take off my shirt and put on the gown.  I lay down face-first on the treatment table.  The x-ray machine is put in place over my neck.  This is used to place the needle correctly in my spine.

My heart started racing.  I couldn’t breath.  I told them to stop.  They moved the x-ray machine and I got up.  They hadn’t gone as far as prepping my skin, but that was the next step.  I was done.  I just wanted out.

I apologized to the the doctor for leaving, but dressed and left.

On the ride home my mind was battling between shame and relief.

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