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So I've mentioned time and time again that I don't create a blog entry when I really, really need to. Truth is, I just haven't had the physical energy nor the mental energy to even sit down and approach this task. When fatigue sets in, deep into your very soul and causes every bone and muscle in your body to burn and ache, well... exerting that kind of energy isn't high on the list of priorities. Alas, I am forcing myself to do this one entry, and then go from there.
The last 5 months for me have been my "bumpy road". I've known for a long time that something was not right with me physically, but I ignored a lot of the symptoms because they were so mild or seemed so insignificant to me that I didn't want to bother my PCP with any of it. But when the fatigue became worse, so bad that I couldn't get up out of bed, or move from a chair once I sat down. Or I'd fall asleep sitting at my computer working. My body felt so bad I wished I could trade it in for a new model - burning achy muscles and joints that were stiff and sore. Okay, so - very benign stuff, right?
Not so. I began to experience neurological symptoms, such as dizziness and vertigo, slurred speech, inability to find the correct words when speaking or writing; right sided weakness, balance and coordination difficulty, tremors and double/blurred vision. I even blew those things off as well. (I just don't like bothering my doctors, which is what it would have felt like.) But when I started falling down a lot, sometimes because of balance, and sometimes because of the vertigo/spinning, I knew I needed to do something. It just so happened that I had a meeting with my psychiatrist and he mentioned to me that the right side of my face was drooping. I kind of looked at him stupidly like he was nuts - but then I really lost it when he told me that when I left his office, I was to go see my doctor - no passing go, no $200. I called my doc, and she told me to go straight to the ER.
My visit to the emergency room was an experience, for sure. My speech was so bad I had a difficult time articulating to the triage nurse and later, the doctor, what was going on with me. I could understand what I wanted to say but couldn't find the words, and couldn't say them if I did. A lot of things began to happen really fast - the doc did a lumbar puncture and ordered a CT scan for me and drew a whole ton of lab work. I don't know if my CT was abnormal or not. They called my doc and decided to admit me. I hate being in the hospital. (More on that later.)
I am still trying to remember all of the testing they did. I had an MRI, MRA, EKG, Holter monitor. Somewhere in there I may have had an EEG also. Somewhere in there, the doc covering for my PCP came in and told me that I have a herniated disc between C4 and C5. Hmmmm... Just what I wanted to hear. The last couple of things they did were ultrasound studies of my liver/abdomen and dopplers of my carotid arteries. Well, to interpret all of that weird stuff, into my treatment team walks Tatyana Barsouk, MD - my new neurologist. She tells me that my MRI is abnormal, that I have white matter lesions but she doesn't know what from. Based on some of my laboratory test results, she (as well as my PCP) was concerned that the results may be pointing to MS. Okay, I thought -well find out, and find out fast, because I need to be able to gear up and adjust to handle this.
One thing I didn't mention is that while down in ultrasound, the technician took the film and went to have them checked to make sure that they were okay before someone wheeled me back up to my room. Well I'm always checking stuff out in treatment rooms - looking on the counters to see what's there, whatever. I can remember hopping down off the gurney to walk over to the counter and play with some gauze sponges or something. The next thing I know, I'm on the floor saying "shit". My back burned, like I'd scraped it - but the only thing I could find nearby that would have done such a thing was a rectangle plastic trash can. The tech returned with my wheelchair - and I was just going to get into it and not say a word because I felt so stupid. But I decided to tell her anyways. I felt bad when I realized that the department supervisor lady would have to do an incident report. (They are such a hassle!) So we chatted, she filled out the forms, and she wheeled me back to my room. When I stood up, however, there was a large spot of blood on the sheet that I was sitting on. I said "uh, oh... where's THAT coming from?" I began to run my hands over the back of my right thigh and buttock. Suddenly, my fingers slipped into a rather large, deep gash on my butt. It had to be a half inch deep or so. Then I really felt bad about the whole thing. The geeky house doctor came up, looked at it and said "just use steri-strips". Well thanks, doc... I now have a large, beautiful, 3" scar on my butt to remember you by because you were too stupid to put in a few sutures instead.
After 5 days, they let me out, and I had all kinds of followup appointments. (More to follow...)
Posted by bloggie at September 10, 2006 01:42 AM