Friday, October 28, 2011

Neurologically Speaking...

Off I went to the local Neurologist... Just after the new year (welcome to 2011). Not that we have only one in this city of 80,000+ people, but she was my local Neuro... She didn't like the way my knees reacted, or didn't react, to be precise–so she ordered an MRI of my lower back. Mind you, she did not even begin to approach my symptoms that I had come to her about.

There wasn't much telling this doc and it only took me three phone calls to figure this out. I still wasn't understanding just what this MRI was going to prove, given my current symptomology. Hubby and I both knew this problem was neurological, and were even thinking it could be MS, so we asked, three times, for a full MRI instead of just looking at my lower back. No, no, and no.

The MRI went as planned. And low and behold, what they found was: nothing. So, during the follow-up visit, she told me that since I had already been through the ringer, er, EMG testing, with the local docs, she wanted to send me to a Neuromuscular Specialist up at the big city's state-of-the-science teaching hospital for a more in-depth EMG and possibly other testing. Well, at least we were getting somewhere... Our vehicle was soon to have the miles to prove it.

Now, something amazing happened at this point in time. A dear friend of mine (from California) had seen the documentary Under Our Skin and just happened to be over for a visit and mentioned Lyme Disease to me. Right away, I told her that I had been tested, and I was negative. Little did I know... I was extremely closed off on the subject of Lyme, as I just "knew" (just like the doctors) that I didn't have it.

On my life went, waiting more than 4 months for my specialist EMG appointment, and in the meantime, my symptoms grew. I had been bogged down with the aching, burning muscles, ridiculous gait, no stamina to even walk briskly even up my stairs, extremely, painfully cold feet and hands, and now new things... I had begun to forget things more and more. When I would type, which I did often, my fingers stumbled dumbly over the keys, like a physical dyslexia of sorts. It was ridiculous. And the worst part was that every time I stood up, I began to find myself dizzier and dizzier. No fun, especially when one is caring for three children under the age of 10.

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