tinhuvielartanis: (Farce)

Aunt Tudi has been on my mind a lot,  more so than usual, these past couple of weeks.  I hate it.  I want to turn off my brain, but I can’t seem to.  It would be okay, if the memories I had were just of the times we spent together, good and bad.  The laughter and tears, the fights and the impromptu comedic moments, the times that make up people’s everyday lives.  

 

But they’re not.

 

The memories are interspersed with the sharp flashes from the days she was on life support to the day she was taken off.  I don’t remember it all.  I was in a haze.  But I remember enough.  I have some very vivid memories of those horrible 96 hours.

 

To remember her failing on every level to learn the Electric Slide from Johnna, then instantly see her lying there with tape over her partially opened eyes, is unbearable.  I miss her so much, and I still feel the burden of responsibility for having put her in such a dehumanizing situation in what would be her last days.  She would hold my hand when we crossed streets in Asheville, but she didn’t hold my hand back when they took her off life support.  She wasn’t there, I know, but the gravity of the moment was very present, and it still is for me.  

 

It’s like it was just yesterday all that happened, even though it’s now going on five years.  My brain will not stop with the incessant barrage of pain, and I have no solution to remedy the problem.  I just want it all to stop.

tinhuvielartanis: (Hot Damn!)

Making a List and Checking It Twice

Then I check it again.  And again.  And again and again and again.  No, I am not the Ginosaji, but I think I may have discovered why my memory has become a cess pool of forgetfulness over the past few years.

Earlier today, I went to the Imaging Healthcare site to confirm my EEG w/Sleep Deprivation test for Tuesday morning.  My neurologist wanted me to have the test before my surgery date.  While I was on my portal at Imaging Healthcare, I found the test results for my many procedures, dating as far back as October, 2013.  I clicked the report generated from my MRI of last year.  According to the physician who examined the imagery, there is nothing that would indicate why I have seizures and migraines; however, he made note that I have "Mild Diffuse Cortical Atrophy."  What exactly is that?

It means that a portion of my brain cells have dropped dead.  It seems to be relatively common in people who suffer from migraines, which I have all my life, except for that nice extended break in my late 20s.  The primary symptom of this condition is forgetfulness, because it is a form of dementia.  To experts' knowledge, the condition does not cause seizures, but it can cause you to stand at the fridge with the door open, wondering why they hell you'd come into the kitchen in the first place.  The thing is, though, is that cortical atrophy is mainly associated with elderly people.  

dementedsalad.jpg

It's a natural part of growing old; however, it can also indicate dementia and the beginnings of Alzheimers Disease.  I just approached an online doctor about it.  Hopefully, my questions will be answered, despite my not subscribing to the 'Ask a Doctor' website.  If I had the money, I might, but people who are running GoFundMe campaigns because their medical situation is guaranteeing they won't make ends meet in any conceivable way tend not to shove their debit card in a virtual doctor's face and shriek TAKE MY MONEY!, especially when said persons are going back to their neurologist for the EEG results sooner rather than later.  It would be frivolous and unresponsible to pay to have my question answered, when I can barely pay attention for being so broke.  Then again, maybe I can't pay attention because my brain is dying in increments.  Whatever.  At any rate, here's what I wrote to the "Emergency Medical Hologram" (Geek points to those who get that):

Since 2008, I've been having grand mal seizures.  I was 41 at the time.  They're well under control with the dosage of Keppra I'm on, and my neurologist keeps a close eye on me, doing annual tests and having me keep a diary of my migraine headaches.  I'm due to go for another EEG with sleep deprivation next week.  As I was setting up my appointment for a bone density scan ordered by my OB/GYN, I noticed that I could access the results of my previous tests, one of which was the MRI my neurologist ordered last year.  Everything appeared normal except that I exhibited "Mild Diffuse Cortical Atrophy."  Is this normal for a 47-year-old?  From what I have read, it's an age-related issue that could be nothing, especially if you are a senior citizen, although it could mean you might have the beginnings of Alzheimers.  For the past four years, I have struggled with memory issues.  It often takes me three times longer to do things because I keep forgetting what it is I need to do next to complete whatever project I'm working on.  My longterm memory seems relatively okay, but I'm constantly having to retrace my steps to make certain I'm doing or have done what I need to at any given moment.  Should I be especially concerned about this, or am I just well on my way to joining AARP?

For now, I'm going to try to not let that report worry me, since I need to focus what rudimentary mental ability I still have to the task of preparing for this surgery and the subsequent week or so of recovery.  This next week is going to be busy, what with my pre-op visit and EEG, both of which are on Tuesday, then a surgery consult with my pain doctor, since she's the one who has to oversee the pain management after the procedure.  Those are the only two days I need to leave the house, which is great, because I need to begin sorting what clothing I need to take to Angie and Cierra's, gather up any connectivity cords and my extra surge protector, and prepare my room for Matt and the Mother Unit.  While I'm gone, they're going to clean up Syd & Nancy's cage and paint, among other things.  I also need to write out instructions on what Smidgen and Toby need and are used to getting, as well as draw a diagram of puppy pad placement.  Since Toby has been on Prednisone, he's become a peeing machine.  Most of the time, I get him out in time enough, but there will always be incidents, so I keep the carpet covered with the protection, but there's a certain way it needs to be done to reduce the amount of pads used while still being a flawless barrier between the carpet and Toby's cho-cha.  Thanks to the help I have so far received, I've been able to get another box of puppy pads, to ensure the Mother Unit does not run out of them.

After I have the instructions written out to my satisfaction, I need to write out some semblance of a will.  I want to make certain that I am not intubated or put on life support of any kind, should something go wrong during the surgery.  Also, I'm keen on bequeathing certain things to certain people.  Nothing I have is of any monetary worth, but there are some things that mean more than mere money.  I also want to have some sort of arrangements made for Toby and Smidgen, should I die, and I'm going to request that my ashes be taken to Craggy Dome on the Blue Ridge Parkway in Asheville.  I doubt my wishes will be adhered to, but I have to state it, just in case.  Getting my document witnessed and notarised has already been made possible, thanks to your generosity.

Later on in the week, I plan on zipping up to Oceanside to spend the day with Angie and Cierra.  San Diego transit isn't just for the city proper, but for the entire county, so I can take various buses and trolleys to make it up there to them.  I'm looking forward to the journey and to seeing those crazy Oceanside chicks.  What I'm planning is to go up and go shopping for some of the heavier items, that Angie and Cierra can store for when I arrive from the hospital.  It will cut down on having to haul the stuff from the store to the house, then from the house to the car, then from the car to the apartment, and so on.  Right now, I can carry bottled water and large bottles of juice, both of which I'll need post-op.  After the surgery, lifting things like that won't be an option.  Wiser to get anything I can do beforehand done, so things will be easier post-op, right?  Again, thanks to your kindness, I'll be able to buy these supplies this next week, and have one less worry clinging like a funky monkey on my back.

EpicCookieAward.jpg

So that's where we are for now.  I want you all to know how humbled and amazed I am by your outpouring of fundages I know you can ill afford.  Despite my misanthropy, I am always awestricken by how people can pull together when any sort of shit hits the fan.  Religious, racial, and cultural differences are swiftly ignored and reviled by folks as each person does what s/he can with the seemingly impenetrable hope that things can and will get better.  That's a testament to the goodness within us, despite our fatal flaws.  If I had not known this before I launched my GoFundMe campaign, I would have been smacked by the Clue-by-Four of Kindness within just a few hours afterward.  Thankfully, I didn't need the Clue-by-Four, because I have always had faith in my friends...my tribe.

Again, thank you from the bottom of my shriveled little heart.

I'll be back with more updates as they come.

tinhuvielartanis: (EYE-GORE)
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:
Train Your Pet Migraine

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?"

"Uhm...black?"

"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?"

"Affirmative, Doc."

"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.
tinhuvielartanis: (2D and 3C)
Aunt Tudi weasled her way out of the hospital so she could go with me to see Dr. Pilch for my brain results. She has to go back for a battery of tests to see why her potassium is still stubbornly high and why she's anæmic. She's getting an upper GI, a lower GI, and a colonoscopy at least. Who knows what other torments they'll conjure up to visit upon Aunt Tudi's body. It's like she's an extra in Hellraiser. I should be so lucky, hanging out with Pinhead.

So we went to see Dr. Pilch. He chided us for being an hour and a half late because he was expecting us at 1:30 and my appointment time, according to my card, was 3 PM. I didn't have the card with me, or I would have shown him. Once he realised that it was unintentional and I was actually right on time, early even, for the appointment I thought I had, it was all good. So were my test results. All good. I have a brain and it's not rotten or shriveled or anything like that. So what caused the seizure? Dr. Pilch is thinking that my crazy sleep pattern, combined with my stress levels and a proclivity for having seizures in the first place, contributed to a lethal combination that resulted in my having a clonic-thonic seizure. Sooooo.... He's treating my sleep issues with Gabapentin. I'm supposed to start with one pill, then graduate to two, if one doesn't make me fall asleep. I looked up the drug and it also treats seizures, depression, and migraines. It's my magic pill! Whee! Except I can't get it because I can't afford it. I'm calling Pfizer tomorrow to see if I can get some help with that and my Lyrica. This having no insurance sucks dangling elephant balls.

All that said, I'm okay, Aunt Tudi is okay, the critters are okay. It's all good. Amen and So Mote It Be.

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tinhuvielartanis: (Default)
The Cliffs of Insanity

October 2016

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