June 7, 2018 I laid on my side on the ER bed for the fifth time that year. My husband sat across from me. The anesthesiologist sat behind me. My pressure had once again been uncontrollable, and all medications had failed. It was time for yet another spinal tap. I honestly didn’t even care anymore. None of this was new, and nothing could possibly feel worse than what I was already feeling. I just wanted relief. As the physician inserted that 3 ½ inch needle, I did my best to breathe and pray, waiting for her to announce the opening pressure. Instead, she grabbed the extension. The next sound within…