In a bizarre turn of events I got a sudden appointment with the neurologist whom I refer to as Dr. Moskvitch because as with all the others I can’t remember his actual name. (Some of them suffer worse fate than to be associated with a Russian car, believe me.) So there I was, about a week after going to the big city, going to the big city a few days before I was to go to the big city. Did you get all that? This was to be a ‘short’ trip in that no shopping was scheduled; just drive down, see the man, and come back. Oh foolish we are to believe anything could be so simple.
I left after 10:30 so I could grab the mail at the post office post-distribution (they’d be shut by the time I got back). No problem; three hours to get to the appointment. It was a lucky day so far as papers I’d been expecting showed up, as well as papers my wife had been expecting and part of an order I had outstanding. All good. I got a two-for-one deal at the bargain store, and picked up another deal that will be subject of its own post later. Everything going well with little effort on my part. That’s the way I like it.
A few showers on the way. Nothing serious despite the threat of T-storms in the forecast. The trip is long, 135 Kms, and it takes over two hours. I’m going to stop once in town, then roll on down to the office. No problem. Park across the street, money in the meter, cross the road, up ten steps … and be ever so glad the elevator is right there. Maybe it was the 30°C temperature. Maybe it was two days in a row previously mowing lawn. Maybe it was just a bad day. I barely made it. The office was right next to the lift on the 3rd floor, I checked in, sat down, and nearly was asleep by the time my name was called. Maybe 5 minutes. At least I got to catch my breath.
We went over the history. It had been 3 years since he saw me. Lots to cover, nothing improving. He poked and prodded and hit me with a hammer. I pointed out that the adrenaline from being wound up for the visit was showing me at my best, rather than typical. We talked about possibilities. He decided the MRI was a “might-as-well” because it would rule out MS or other things or perhaps show them up. It’ll be a couple of months.
The bad part is all the other things he (and indeed the other specialists) could think of all fall under the same category: no cure, not much treatment, going to get worse, do the best you can. I know things that will help, and they are not likely to come about. I’m sort of trapped in a lifestyle which I already have difficulty accommodating. At some point it will just be either “can’t do it” or sudden failure and I know it. It’s hard to explain to a non-sufferer what it’s like to feel yourself losing yourself.
So in disappointment I went home. It was late when I left and I fueled up and got some food and drove back in occasional showers, getting home after 6:00 PM. Just about time to take some pills and go to bed and listen to the storms probably starting more fires (something that keeps me on edge). Lots of pain. My feet hurt up to my knees, for example. Stayed awake for hours, took more pills trying to numb it. Woke up after a few hours – more pills. Repeat. Get up in the morning feeling not improved and begin replanning the day. Such is life from now on.
Now it’s Monday and guess what? I’m going to the big city again. This time to take the wife to the airport so she can have the unenviable flight to England to look after her sister with Alzheimer’s and I stay overnight to get another test tomorrow – and then drive back home to cope on my own for three weeks while she’s gone.
This is all too much for us. I know what needs to be done but she’ll never agree to any of it because she loves the life so much. Unfortunately it is me who enables the life, and that is becoming impossible. I don’t know if an official order from a doctor to stop and change would help convince her, but I’d like one all the same.
I need to go back to my photographic distractions and pretend this isn’t happening. Here’s a picture of a longhorn beetle, for whatever reason.