Seeing the neuro tomorrow. 'Bout time, too.
2pm tomorrow can't come soon enough.
On Friday, after being freaked out enough at what I can now call my *first* episode of double vision, I had gotten myself relatively calmed down by the time I got to Statistics class. And then halfway through class, something really, really funky happened.
I glanced down at the notes I was taking, and it looked like someone else had taken over. A six-year-old, in fact. My handwriting had completely changed in the blink of an eye. I started trying to focus harder, and the fact was that I just could not control my pencil. I had gone from my usual loose, pretty half-cursive (I am often told my handwriting is pretty, this isn't just handwriting-ego) to a printed scrawl that I couldn't even keep on a straight line... my letters kept drifting lower at the ends of words. I had to painstakingly construct each letter, and it was a struggle just to make the letters recognizable (looking back at those notes, some of them aren't). Meanwhile I was trying in vain to focus on what the instructor was saying, since this was tricky stuff, but it was all I could do just to copy down what was on the board.
At the end of class, I called my neurologist. My doctor had left the office for the day, so I described what was happening to the receptionist, and he said he would talk to one of the other doctors and someone would call me back. About 15 minutes later, I got a call back saying I should go to the ER. After I hung up, I thought about that. Clearly, the doctor who made that recommendation doesn't know me, and only knows that these are new symptoms and I don't have a diagnosis of *anything* yet. I thought about it, and realized that it was total CYA. The doctor had to recommend going to the ER, just in case I was having a stroke or something... they couldn't have risked the liability of knowing I was having this weird stuff going on and *not* sending me to the ER to get it checked out.
If I hadn't had anything planned for the weekend, it's possible I might have taken the recommendation just because it would have ensured that I got a MRI without waiting, and whatever other testing I might need, in a nice one-stop-shopping kind of scenario. They couldn't have discharged me without really digging for an answer, and I have a feeling they would have found it. I'd be diagnosed by now, and going about my merry way.
But, I did have plans. I was on my way to pick up the 2-year-old and meet the 13-year-old back at home. My brother, his wife, and my niece and nephew were already in their car and on the road from their house 10 hours away, coming to stay for the long weekend. There was no way I was going to risk spending their visit in the hospital. Especially when I was pretty sure that what was happening *wasn't* an emergency. It's the same old shit, just cranked up to a new level. But I didn't really think waiting 3 days was going to change any of the long-term outcomes.
So I've spent the weekend playing with my family, showing my brother and crew around town, cooking some fabulous meals, and all in all enjoying life. Tomorrow I will report to the neuro and tell her all that's been happening (and perhaps be berated for not going to the ER, but I think I can take her). And we will get the ball rolling on finally getting a diagnosis for this crap. I am optimistic. I am hopeful that we will have answers soon, and whatever they are, it will be a relief to have them.
I am going to need to know exactly who or what to blame the next time some six-year-old takes possession of my Statistics notes.
On Friday, after being freaked out enough at what I can now call my *first* episode of double vision, I had gotten myself relatively calmed down by the time I got to Statistics class. And then halfway through class, something really, really funky happened.
I glanced down at the notes I was taking, and it looked like someone else had taken over. A six-year-old, in fact. My handwriting had completely changed in the blink of an eye. I started trying to focus harder, and the fact was that I just could not control my pencil. I had gone from my usual loose, pretty half-cursive (I am often told my handwriting is pretty, this isn't just handwriting-ego) to a printed scrawl that I couldn't even keep on a straight line... my letters kept drifting lower at the ends of words. I had to painstakingly construct each letter, and it was a struggle just to make the letters recognizable (looking back at those notes, some of them aren't). Meanwhile I was trying in vain to focus on what the instructor was saying, since this was tricky stuff, but it was all I could do just to copy down what was on the board.
At the end of class, I called my neurologist. My doctor had left the office for the day, so I described what was happening to the receptionist, and he said he would talk to one of the other doctors and someone would call me back. About 15 minutes later, I got a call back saying I should go to the ER. After I hung up, I thought about that. Clearly, the doctor who made that recommendation doesn't know me, and only knows that these are new symptoms and I don't have a diagnosis of *anything* yet. I thought about it, and realized that it was total CYA. The doctor had to recommend going to the ER, just in case I was having a stroke or something... they couldn't have risked the liability of knowing I was having this weird stuff going on and *not* sending me to the ER to get it checked out.
If I hadn't had anything planned for the weekend, it's possible I might have taken the recommendation just because it would have ensured that I got a MRI without waiting, and whatever other testing I might need, in a nice one-stop-shopping kind of scenario. They couldn't have discharged me without really digging for an answer, and I have a feeling they would have found it. I'd be diagnosed by now, and going about my merry way.
But, I did have plans. I was on my way to pick up the 2-year-old and meet the 13-year-old back at home. My brother, his wife, and my niece and nephew were already in their car and on the road from their house 10 hours away, coming to stay for the long weekend. There was no way I was going to risk spending their visit in the hospital. Especially when I was pretty sure that what was happening *wasn't* an emergency. It's the same old shit, just cranked up to a new level. But I didn't really think waiting 3 days was going to change any of the long-term outcomes.
So I've spent the weekend playing with my family, showing my brother and crew around town, cooking some fabulous meals, and all in all enjoying life. Tomorrow I will report to the neuro and tell her all that's been happening (and perhaps be berated for not going to the ER, but I think I can take her). And we will get the ball rolling on finally getting a diagnosis for this crap. I am optimistic. I am hopeful that we will have answers soon, and whatever they are, it will be a relief to have them.
I am going to need to know exactly who or what to blame the next time some six-year-old takes possession of my Statistics notes.
posted by Laura at
9:41 PM
1 Comments:
When I woke up this morning one of my first thoughts was that today was your appointment. I will be waiting for an update and hope you can get the process started ASAP so you can get some answers.
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Anonymous, at 11:12 AM
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