Today (yesterday now so, if any of this sounds ridiculous, it's because I've been awake for 24 hours as of..right...now~!), I got to see my favourite doctor, Dr. Pilch! Why is he my favourite? Because he's bloody gorgeous, that's why! Well, that and he's tending the brain I got from Abby Normal with the best bedside manner I've ever encountered in a doctor, surpassing even that of my old orthopedic surgeon. This was my normal three-month follow-up visit with my neurologist, whom I've been seeing since last July when I quite unexpectedly had a seizure, not that you often schedule seizures. Suffice to say I'd never had a seizure prior to the one I enjoyed last year and I haven't had one since. In addition to trying to figure out why I had the seizure, Dr. Pilch has gotten the extra added joy of pondering my imponderable insomnia and ponderously pounding head. On Thursday, he got to add black-outs to the laundry list of noodle issues. Only recently has this begun and, lucky for Dr. Pilch, it began right before I was scheduled to see the good (looking) doctor.
Once I was called back by the nurse, I told her what had been going on and she took diligent notes, because she's a very diligent nurse. She told me that Dr. Pilch would be in shortly and to try to be comfy. I thanked her and proceeded to wonder why it was all chairs in doctors offices and exam rooms were the least comfortable on the planet, with the exception of the dentist's chair. And that's simply black humour right there because, really, where can a person be least comfortable but a dentist's chair? If it were any less like a La-Z-Boy, the dentist would have to scrape his patients from the ceiling before any given exam or, at least that's how it'd be with me. I could be given a Tempurpedic mattress and a hookah brimming with opium, and still be chew-a-hole-in-the-world-with-my-ass nervous while at the dentist's, and my
dentist caters to cowards!
But I digress. After giving up trying to be comfortable in the exam room, I began to read the latest issue of Neurology Today
, which isn't as interesting as Psychology Today
but, since I didn't have that and my only other option was Southern Living
, Neurology Today
was the winner of the day. In the back of the magazine was a mini-article featuring the ongoing adventures of Migraine Chick
. The two strips featured in the article had me har-dee-har-harring as much from woeful familiarity as from the full-on hilarity of the illustrations.
This was one of them:
About the time I was finishing up writing her URL down on my hand, in walked Dr. Pilch. He looked at me as if to say, "You're writing on yourself. I'm a neurologist. Perhaps you need a psychologist instead. And then the moment passed and he was all smiles and sweetness because he's that good (looking).
Now, on the best of days, speaking with a neurologist is always fodder for the Theatre of the Absurd. Dr. Pilch began to look over the notes his nurse had taken, and he asked me about the black outs. I told him that they seemed to be very brief and I never fully lost consciousness, so they weren't like the seizure I had.
"Do you know how long they lasted?"
"Not very long. It's not like I had missing time, or was abducted by aliens or anything."
::wry grin from the dee-lec-table doc:: "So what did you see?"
"And when you came around, were you confused as to your whereabouts or who you were?"
"No more so than usual, doc."
::another wry grin:: I love his grin. He is a hotteh, my brain doctor.
"I see you're not sleeping as well as you were the last time we saw one another."
"No, 'fraid not."
"And the migraines are worse?"
"Yeah, 'fraid so."
"Do you think the black-outs have anything to do with these other factors?"
"You tell me doc. I have a faulty brain and am unsure of my capacity to think clearly."
Yeah, I was being a bit of a smart-ass, but not in a snarky way; rather, more in a playful please for to allow me to molest you on your uncomfortable furniture
way. Or, if you need to be more comfortable, my dentist is right down the road. We can turn off the drill...and the lights...and.... But I digress.
"Well, I think that, even though you say you've actually been sleeping better this week, the crux of your problems lies in your body being unable to maintain a recognisable sleep pattern. I see we've tried a number of different treatment methods and have ruled out sleep apnea. The Klonopin was working well for you until we doubled your anti-depressant, so what I want to do is add a 1/2 milligram of Klonopin to your 1 mg at night. If we can jumpstart your sleeping pattern, maybe your body will be able to grasp it and go from there in healing itself. I think your migraines will diminish as a result as well; however, if you have any more black-outs, I don't want you to wait until I see you again in December. I want you to call me immediately. We may end up having to do another electroencephalogram."'
"Meh, not another one of those..."
"Well, it's been a year since we tested you. Better to be safe than sorry and, who knows, maybe something will turn up in a new one that couldn't be seen in the last one. Let's hold off on that for now, though. I know your funds are limited, so I want to try to treat the underlying cause of all this before we go crazy and hook you up to the electrodes again. In the meantime, you're still on the Paxil, Relpax and Lortab as needed for migraine, and the magnesium?"
"Okay, let's see how things go with the 1.5 mg of Klonopin. Hopefully, this will take care of the insomnia, which will help with the migraines and all associated symptoms of those including, I'm betting the black-outs. But, like I said," and he waggled his finger at me, which is fine with me since he's my elder (and I always respect my elders, especially those of the irresistible kind), "any more episodes and we're going ahead with the EEG immediately, okay?"
"Anything you say, you tasty morsel of medical mayhem! Oh...you got it Doc!" I sure hope that first bit was my internal voice remaining....internal. If not, though, I can always blame faulty hardwiring of the brain and ask him for some special attention in that grievous matter. To satisfy his curiosity, Dr. Pilch asked me about my writing on myself. I explained to him about Migraine Chickie and I showed him the comic strips at the back of Neurology Today
. He took the mag and studied the strips for a few moments and, O so very slowly, his face split into one of the prettiest smiles I've ever seen on a person (and, yes, men can have pretty smiles just like women can have handsome ones!). Not just that, no no; Dr. Pilch then began to chuckle lowly.
"Forgive me. I know it's not right to laugh at something from which a patient of yours is suffering, but...this is really quite funny! Please don't take offense."
"None taken! I was cackling at these right before you came in, so I'm right there with you, Dr. Pilch (and on you like a cheap suit, if given a shred of a hint of a whisper of a chance in hell)."
The good (looking) doctor stopped and sized me up, saying, "You know, that's a very good attitude you have there. When it comes to medicine, one can never underestimate the therapeutic benefits of a good chuckle."
Those were his words exactly. And here's hoping the good (looking) doctor is right because, if he is, I'm already cured of everything. Since that's obviously not the case (I would have otherwise slept last night), maybe another electroencephalogram is in order
which, given my newfound association with head electrodes, will certainly push me over the edge of hilarity and into "The doctor gave me a pill and I grew a new kidneh!"-ville.