My friend from high school, Jacque, used to tell me I was a klutz. It's true. I have always had a tendency to trip if there is something in the way of my feet. I spilled a Pepsi on her parents' brand new carpet in their brand new house. Once, in P.E. I actually made a basket. Unfortunately, it was on the wrong end of the court, so, even though I was a track girl, and a bat girl (more on that later) I think it's safe to say, I've never been athletic.
In my early thirties, my doctor sent me to the Mayo Clinic to figure out why I had daily migraines, visual disturbances and my own personal earthquakes, etc. We wanted to know why my klutziness seemed to be increasing.
So the uberneurologists did many tests. They stuck me in a tube that sounded much like being in a washing machine. I found it strangely relaxing. They told me to hold completely still, while a thingamabob circled my head making noises I've never heard outside an alien space ship. They put me in a completely dark room, told me to keep my eyes open and then turned on lights strobing at various frequencies. Ha! I'll bet they regretted that one. I thought that was was going to be my least favorite one, but nooooooooo, there were even less fun tests to come.
They did one absolutely essential test which involved them sticking needles in various muscles and sticking receptors so many inches away from the needle, then they shot electricity through the needle and a machine measured how long it took me to scream. No kidding! I couldn't make this stuff up!
And spinal taps. Yes, plural. Gotta love those.
Back in those days I had hair on my head. But somehow or other they stuck somewhere around 127 electrodes to my scalp and then did all sorts of things to me. Sometimes, they even wanted me to sleep with those wires all over my head and three people staring at me through a window.
Back in those days I had hair on my head. But somehow or other they stuck somewhere around 127 electrodes to my scalp and then did all sorts of things to me. Sometimes, they even wanted me to sleep with those wires all over my head and three people staring at me through a window.
By the time I was done answering thousands of questions, demonstrating my walking ability - heal to toe, sideways, backwards, etc., being stuck in tubes, stuck with needles, and generally stuck, I was eager to get the results.
They told me I had neuropathy which is sort of like saying "You have headaches and are a klutz who doesn't see very well." Oh, and I had several dispersed white spots on my brain indicative of MS.
Well, shit.
Jacque said, "Well, you've always been a klutz."
The treatment options weren't all that fun. I took steroids for a while which made me look nine months pregnant and evil. The other available options didn't sound any more fun.
I decided to not mention the diagnosis, because frankly, I didn't like it.
Since then, I've been to a few other neurologists. They repeated the same tests and strangely came up with varying diagnoses. Yes you do, no you don't, maybe you do. "You can take this drug that might slow the course of the disease, but the side effects can be a bit disconcerting. . . . " They recommended I have my brain scanned now and again again to see how many new spots they can see.
How ridiculous is that? Why do I care how many spots or where they are? If they can't make the symptoms go away without replacing them with worse symptoms, I see no reason to frequent their establishments
.
But lately the falling swarms seem to come more often and last longer. And falling isn't nearly as funny as it used to be. My arms jerk about in their own spontaneous dances more often and lately I've been having those visual things that start with a little squiggly that grows until everything is squiggly and you can't see what you're looking at, only stuff on the sides of what you're looking at. I didn't say it well, but it's a common enough thing. It's just that it's been happening 3 or so times per week and lasting an hour or so
.
Oh, and then there's there is this memory thing. Mine has big holes. Year sized holes and little tiny holes.
Anyway, I'm to the point where I'm considering actually seeing if there is such a thing as a neurologist with a personality who isn't addicted to cruel and unusual tests. Maybe. We'll see.
.
But lately the falling swarms seem to come more often and last longer. And falling isn't nearly as funny as it used to be. My arms jerk about in their own spontaneous dances more often and lately I've been having those visual things that start with a little squiggly that grows until everything is squiggly and you can't see what you're looking at, only stuff on the sides of what you're looking at. I didn't say it well, but it's a common enough thing. It's just that it's been happening 3 or so times per week and lasting an hour or so
.
Oh, and then there's there is this memory thing. Mine has big holes. Year sized holes and little tiny holes.
Anyway, I'm to the point where I'm considering actually seeing if there is such a thing as a neurologist with a personality who isn't addicted to cruel and unusual tests. Maybe. We'll see.
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