Part 10 : This Is Spinal Tap

On the list of diagnostic procedures, the MRI was now checked off.

Seeing the inside of your brain is an interesting experience; seeing that something is wrong with it is another experience entirely. To actually see pieces of your brain that are literally deteriorating….it’s disquieting. Those images made everything I had been experiencing….the pain, the vertigo, the numbness, the loss of hearing and the use of one of my hands….all concrete. Those symptoms were always real, always frightening. But they were symptoms and nothing more. These images were tangible. This was something; no longer a theory. My brain, the hub that kept the clockwork of my body working in continuous harmony, was damaged, having been attacked by the very body it inhabited. That knowledge held some real gravity.

Based on the evidence revealed by the MRI, Dr. M. felt fairly confident that I did, in fact, have Multiple Sclerosis. Everything fit; there were no holes in this theory…just in my brain. But Dr. M. didn’t mess around. She wanted to completely rule out every other possibility before settling on a final diagnosis, which meant more blood work and a spinal tap.

Ugh. A spinal tap. I’d heard the horror stories and the idea of my spinal column being tapped like some maple tree made me queasy. At least with the maple tree you can enjoy some nice pancakes afterward; I doubt spinal fluid pairs as nicely. As such, I gave into my anxieties and decided to postpone the procedure until after the holidays. It was just too daunting to face and I wanted to delay it as much as possible.

In hindsight, I should have just got it over and done with. If I thought putting the spinal tap off would make it easier to get through the holidays, I was sorely mistaken. I could think of nothing else over the next four weeks and therefore subjected myself to mistake number two: internet research on the procedure. Accounts of everything from horrible pain to spinal cord damage to paraplegia did nothing but amplify my fear. Though many credible medical sites cited these potential risks, they were rare and unlikely. Still, they happened. And that was enough for my anxiety to feed on.

The subsequent holidays were rough. I still hadn't fully regained the use of my left hand and I still had residual pain and numbness throughout the left side of my body. Still, I did my best to stumble through them as best I could. What else could I do? As the clock struck midnight on January 1, 2007, I closed my eyes and made a wish.

* * *

I would not be so foolish as to tempt fate by assuming that things could not possibly have gotten any worse at this point. But fate, it seems, could not simply let me be. The day before my spinal tap, left side of my body still numb and throbbing and left hand still not functioning, I awoke to discover the right side of my face was numb. Upon inspection in the mirror, the right side of my mouth was slightly drooping and when I tried rubbing my lips together, the right side did not move. I also noticed my right nostril didn’t move either, nor did my right eye. I couldn’t even blink it. The right side of my face was paralyzed.

I had just been Punk’d by the Universe. The Universe was off in a trailer somewhere, laughing with Justin Timberlake as they watched me on hidden camera. Fucking hilarious, guys. Seriously.

As my mind was searching for new expletives to do the situation justice, a thought occurred. Isn’t drooping on one side of the face a sign of a stroke? Ugh, was I really back to another stroke scare? I decided that, like before, this was another manifestation of my now-not-so-mysterious illness and since I was seeing Dr. M. first thing in the morning anyway, I would just let it go for today and hope for the best. That night, I had to Scotch-tape my right eye shut to get some sleep.

At 6:00am the next morning, I arrived at Dr. M’s office completely sleep deprived and with a sick feeling in my stomach. Forget butterflies, I had elephants parading through my tummy. I was escorted to the exam room and Nick and I were left alone while I changed into a gown. As I sat on the exam table waiting for Dr. M. to return, my fear finally got the better of me and I broke down sobbing. Uncontrollable, ugly, breath-stealing sobbing. I attempted to pull myself together before Dr. M. returned, but it was no use. I couldn’t stop the tears. I sat there crying as I once did, a frightened little girl who didn’t want to have to get a shot. As Nick hugged me, I felt juvenile. I was too old to behave this way. I told myself that I could handle this. I wasn’t entirely sure that I could, but I kept saying it to myself anyway. It didn’t help.

I was still crying when Dr. M. returned. When she asked what was wrong, all I could muster saying is “I’m scared”. When she asked what exactly I was afraid of, I realized I wasn't entirely certain. Pain? Something going wrong? Both? She then sat down with me and talked me through the entire procedure step by step….what to expect, what she would be doing and when, how long it would take and that she would be talking me through it every step of the way. Dr. M. explained that she’s done this procedure hundreds of times and was very comfortable with it. She also assured me that most people who come in for this procedure are pretty freaked out, but usually leave laughing. I wasn’t sure I bought that last bit, but her reassuring voice and her willingness to slowly and thoroughly talk me through this was comforting and I was able to catch my breath and cease the tears.

I sat on the table, legs folded with my back to Dr. M. Nick stood in front of me and I held his hands with a bone-cracking grip. Dr. M. was first going to numb the area and said I would feel a few tiny pokes and a bit of stinging as the numbing medicine went in. And she was right….the pokes I felt were very small, nothing I would even quantify as pain. As for the stinging, I didn’t really notice that either. But okay, that was just the numbing part. The long, hollow needle that would penetrate my spine would surely be felt.

After barely a minute, she checked to see if the area was numb by gently poking it with a small pin. I didn’t feel anything. We were ready to go. She told me to hold as still as possible and I held my breath, not daring to breath for fear I would move. I grasped Nick’s hands even tighter. Not a moment later, she told me the needle was in and that she was withdrawing the spinal fluid. And a moment after that, she said we were done.

She was kidding, that was it?? I didn’t feel anything! Not a poke or even any pressure. Nothing. I was starting to feel extremely sheepish. Also, I wanted to punch the people who told me their spinal tap was the most painful experience of their lives. Maybe it was. And maybe I just had the best damn doctor ever. Out of both embarrassment and extreme relief, I actually started to laugh. Dr. M. just smiled and with a wave of her hand said happily “See, I told ya!”

Dr. M and I briefly discussed the paralysis that had cropped up on the right side of my face, which she didn’t seem terribly surprised to see. She sympathized and gave me a look that clearly said “oh great, like you needed one more thing!” She told me not to stress, and that the only thing she was really concerned with was my right eye drying out. She gave me some eye ointment to use throughout the day and, with an affectionate pat on the shoulder, said that we’d follow up in a week to see how I was doing and review the results of the spinal tap.

Another hurdle now behind me, another fear conquered. I knew there was still more to come and that there were plenty of obstacles still ahead of me. But for now, I just breathed a sigh of relief and committed myself to movies in bed with Nick for the rest of the day.

Also, I was pretty confident I had earned an ice cream cone.

Part 9: Testing 1..2..3

For the first time in over a year and a half, I was feeling a sense of relief. Granted, it was small and buried under a ginormous pile of anxiety and trepidation, but I felt it all the same. I was reassured that I was finally in the hands of a capable and caring doctor and I believed that we were on the path to some answers. And so began the in-depth diagnostic testing.

First up, an MRI. An MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging) is sort of like an x-ray , but radio frequencies and electromagnetic fields are used rather than radiation. And unlike an x-ray, an MRI is able to produce detailed images of soft tissues (like the brain, spinal tissues, joint tissues, various organs, etc.). There’s some other science-y stuff about photons, neutrons and hydrogen atoms, and how the magnetic field and radio frequencies align them in such a way so as to create a detailed image. But who really cares about that? I just wanted to know how the heck this procedure was going affect me.

I had never undergone any sort of medical testing before, short of a throat swab or a blood draw, so this was entirely new ground for me. My only references for things like MRI’s were medical dramas like ER and House MD. Not the best reference for medical procedures, as nothing ever goes smoothly on these kinds of shows (because it wouldn’t be a drama unless someone exploded in an MRI machine, now would it?). Needless to say, I was having a fair bit of anxiety about the unknown of this procedure.

Dr. M. assured me the procedure was completely painless and without side effects. The contrast dye to be used was not associated with any adverse reactions, I wouldn’t have to fast and I would even be able to wear my own clothes as long as they had no metal components (no wire bra, zippers, snaps, etc.). She did warn that due to the narrow size of the scanning chamber, patients with claustrophobia are usually advised to take some kind of sedative prior to the procedure. Was I claustrophobic? I had no idea, but Dr. M. and I both agreed that a mild sedative certainly couldn’t hurt.

The MRI was scheduled for 6:00am on a Friday morning, December 15th. I took my big-ass Valium first thing upon waking and then proceeded to get dressed; Hello Kitty pajama pants seemed appropriate for the occasion. The left side of my body was still fairly numb and achy, but I had regained some use of my left hand and I was able to dress myself without help or a single expletive for the first time since Thanksgiving.

By the time we arrived at the imaging center, I could feel the Valium beginning to work its magic. I was still a little nervous, but I was feeling kinda light headed and tired….like I just wanted to lay down. Conveniently, there was a nice scanning table waiting for me.

After filling out the typical paper work, I was escorted back to the scanning room by a really sweet technician. I was surprised to find the scanning room to be much less clinical than I had expected; wood floors, wood cupboards and pretty striped wallpaper. The MRI machine didn’t look as nearly as scary as I had imagined either. The technician placed me down on the scanning table and covered me with a toasty warm blanket, tucking me in snug all around. She then told me she was going to cover my eyes. I expected a dark piece of cloth or maybe those things they give you in tanning beds. Instead she placed a lavender-scented herbal eye pack gently over my eyes. Wow, serious? This was quickly becoming less like Dr. House and more like preparation for a spa treatment.

The technician also placed noise-canceling headphones over my ears, which would help drown out the noise of the machine and also allow her to communicate with me. She also told me she could feed the radio through my headphones and asked which station I would like. X96, please!

The scanning table was slid into the scanning chamber and I was ready to go. A series of scans were done, the dye was injected and then the scans were performed again. It was pretty loud, despite the headphones, and the rhythmic pulsing noise from the machine made the table underneath me vibrate. There was nothing to do but lay there and chill, so that’s what I did. Every so often the technician would come through my headphones, checking that I was okay and letting me know the length of the next scan. I think I even nodded off at one point.

The entire procedure took just over an hour. It was a lot less frightening than I had imagined and more like a really boring portrait sitting at Olan Mills. And that’s pretty much what an MRI is, minus the annoying family members and cheesy backdrops. And before I knew it, I was done. Nick was waiting for me on the other side of the glass with the technician; he had watched me through the entire process. And even though I was feeling relatively calm throughout the procedure and surprised by the ease of it, it was still comforting to know that Nick was right there, watching every moment.

Four days later, we met with Dr. M to discuss the results of the MRI. She showed us the scans of my brain and spinal cord, which at first glance were pretty cool looking, in my opinion. It’s not often one gets to see the inside of their skull. But then she pointed out the numerous white spots that appeared throughout the brain and spine and explained that these white spots were actually lesions, which is consistent with myelin damage (myelin being the protective sheath surrounding the nerves in the brain and spinal cord). When the myelin is damaged, this causes inflammation and injury to the nerve and those surrounding it. This, in turn, slows or blocks nerve signals that control muscle coordination, strength, sensation, hearing, pain receptors, etc. With a sad and apologetic expression on her face, she told me that this is very indicative of Multiple Sclerosis.

This didn’t come as a surprise to me; Dr. M. had told me she highly suspected MS from the very beginning. I was honestly feeling a bit relieved that she didn’t find a brain tumor or something, though at the same time I think I had slipped into a mild state of astonishment. As I sat there and looked at those images of my brain…my broken, damaged brain, all I can remember saying in response was “okay”.

Dr. M. went on to explain that approximately 30 lesions were found on my brain and an additional 6 on the spinal cord. The numerous areas of damage, and the areas of the brain and spine in which they were located, was a definitive explanation for the loss of function I had been experiencing and why they were occurring in certain areas of the body.

Dr. M. reiterated again that this was most consistent with Multiple Sclerosis, but she wanted to run some blood work and a lumbar puncture (spinal tap) to be completely thorough and rule out any question as to my condition.

Oh man, a spinal tap? *sigh* I appreciated her desire to be thorough and absolutely sure about my diagnosis, I really did. But a spinal tap? Ugh. I’d heard plenty of horror stories about spinal taps, and it didn’t seem likely this procedure would include any warm blankets or aroma-therapeutic components.

Once again, Dr. M. took the time to reassure me. She acknowledged that she’s heard the horror stories herself, but that she’s literally performed hundreds of these and has never once had a patient experience a problem. However, she also acknowledged that I’ve already been through a lot and I’ve been given an enormous amount to process. Christmas was less than a week away, and she suggested that I step away from this for a bit and wait until after the holidays to have the spinal tap done. I was inclined to agree. I sincerely appreciated her understanding of how difficult this was for me and her concern for my well-being.

I honestly didn’t know what to think at this point. It sounded fairly certain that I did, in fact, have Multiple Sclerosis. What that meant for me and my future, I didn’t know. And right then, I didn’t really want to know. I did not yet have a final diagnosis, and I was content to rest in a little bubble of denial and hope that perhaps the blood work and spinal tap would reveal some new evidence that would blow Dr. M.’s theory right out of the water.

Deep down, I knew this wasn’t true. Everything fit and now we had visual confirmation of my MS-addled brain. But I just wasn’t ready to face it. Not at Christmas. The best I could hope for was try and put this out of my mind and attempt to enjoy the holidays with my friends and family as best I could. Though with the knowledge I now possessed, a festive holiday spirit seemed less than likely.

The spinal tap was scheduled for the 17th of January, 2007.

*Note: No stunt brains were used in the making of this post. The images above are really me. Those are the actual images of my brain from the MRI discussed in this post. It really brings out my eyes, don't ya think?

Part 8: The Light at the End of the Tunnel Might Be a Train

It had now been nearly a month since I had been unable to use my left hand or feel any sensations on the left side of my body. My chest and torso was still feeling constricted and I still couldn’t hear out of my left ear. My entire body continued to feel weak, heavy and numb. I had nearly zero energy and was dizzy most of the time. I was barely functioning.

I wasn’t sure how much longer I could take this. And so, after learning there could be a possible connection between my symptoms and several serious conditions, I decided it was time to see a neurologist. I was hesitant to get potentially dicked around by yet another doctor, but I could no longer hope that this was innocuous and I was fearful that there may be some merit to what I had read online. I hoped to God that there wasn’t, but the fact remained that I was getting worse, not better.

I contacted the neurologist that was recommended to me by my chiropractor. Luckily, her office was able to get me in right away as she had recently moved her practice here from Minnesota and was not yet backlogged with patients.

Nick came with me to the appointment and he held my hand as we sat in the waiting room. Given past history, we were both skeptical and apprehensive about our pending experience. Were we about to get blown off once again? Were we going to be graced with yet another doctor who had no idea what to do? Was I about to go all Russell-Crowe-in-a-hotel-lobby at the utterance of another ‘I don’t know’? We were about to find out.

Dr. M greeted us kindly and escorted us back to an exam room. I immediately felt a positive vibe from her and her gentle tone put me at ease. She listened attentively as I described everything I had been experiencing over the past year and a half, making notes and asking follow-up questions. She then performed an exam, testing my strength, coordination, vision and sensations. She continued to ask questions throughout this process, though she did even more listening.

She confirmed that I had significant weakness in my arms and legs, particularly the left, as well as loss of sensations throughout that side. She also noted poor coordination on the left side as well; when asked to close my eye and touch my fingers to my nose, my right finger landed spot on while my left finger ended up in my eye. This wasn’t really news to me, but it was extremely encouraging to finally get some confirmation and validation from a medical professional.

Then, with a slight wince in her expression and an apologetic tone, she told me that this was all very consistent with Multiple Sclerosis.

I was stunned. And I was stunned that I was stunned. Was I really not prepared to hear this? I suppose part of me was fairly convinced that I couldn’t trust medical information found online and that I was being over emotional and naive to believe any of it. And reading about it online was one thing…it was unconfirmed, uncorroborated; pure speculation. Still, the symptoms fit. And to have that substantiated by a neurologist was a bit of a burst to my bubble of denial.

Dr. M. went on to say that this was not a firm diagnosis and that there are several other conditions that can mimic Multiple Sclerosis; it was important that we run some tests to eliminate all other factors. An MRI was scheduled for the following week and she spent the remainder of the visit describing in detail what that procedure entailed.

As we were about to leave the office, she placed her hand on my shoulder and told me to try not to worry and assured me that we were going to get to the bottom of this. I appreciated this gesture. Obviously, I was going to worry my neurotic little brains out, but it was heartening to hear that she wasn’t going to give up on me or just send me on my way without any answers.

As Nick and I drove home, neither of us was sure what to think. We both agreed that even though this was fairly grim news, it was a positive visit. Dr. M. was kind and seemed to genuinely care. And this was real progress. Follow-up was happening; in-depth diagnostic testing was being done. We were moving ahead.

But where were we heading?

Part 7 - Progress, Setbacks and Discoveries

After my decision to renounce modern medicine for a while, I sought treatment from an acupuncturist and a chiropractor. I was fairly green with chiropractic care and was completely new to acupuncture; I had no clue what to expect. At my very first visits with each practitioner, however, I was given something that the last four medical physicians had failed to provide: validation. Instead of doubt, I was met with concern and reassurance and they both conveyed a sincere desire to want to help me. For this, I was extremely grateful. I had no idea if either of them could solve my health mystery, or even make any kind of impact on my condition. I was simply relieved and encouraged that I was finally being treated like a human being. As far as I was concerned, that was a step in the right direction.

After reviewing all of my symptoms over the last year and a half, several theories were immediately suggested: a compressed cervical disc or a pinched nerve. Well this was certainly an improvement over the “It Just Happens” hypothesis, and so I spent the next two weeks receiving treatments from both practitioners.

Much to my intense disappointment, however, none of it was making any difference. In fact, I was getting worse. The numbness was somewhat less intense and I had regained a small amount of movement in my left hand, but it was still basically non-functional. And it now felt constantly cold; an aching, burning cold. To the touch of anyone else (and to my own right hand) it felt perfectly normal, but to me it felt like my left hand was submerged in a bucket of ice. I had also lost hearing in my left ear.

Upon learning these developments, my chiropractor decided that this wasn’t a simple case of a pinched nerve or compressed disc and he confessed his growing concern that this was something much more serious. He suggested I see a neurologist and gave me the name of someone that came highly suggested from some of his other patients.

I felt defeated. While I appreciated the care and the honesty with which I was treated by both my chiropractor and acupuncturist, I still didn’t have any answers. Still no one knew what was wrong with me and my condition, whatever that was, was worsening.

And a neurologist? Really? That brought to mind brain tumors and mad cow disease. What did my chiropractor suspect I could have that would warrant a neurologist? I wasn’t sure that I was quite ready for that, or if I was ready to give the medical community another opportunity to kick me while I was down. I did feel, however, that it was time for me to educate myself on my symptoms and start doing a bit of my own research.

Meanwhile, I was still working full time at my job as an optician. If I thought dressing myself and trying to do my hair with one hand was a challenge, it was nothing to trying to repair delicate eyewear and replace teeny tiny screws in glasses. Total nightmare. My co-workers expressed a great deal of concern and were as helpful and understanding as possible, but daily business flow and scheduling requirements made it nearly impossible for me to have help all of the time.

I went from keying 70 wpm to a one-handed hunt-and-peck, which seriously slowed my productivity. As I could no longer hear out of my left ear, I had to hold the phone between my right ear and my shoulder while trying to peck at the keyboard with my right hand. When it came to repairs, I devised an ingenious way of holding a pair of eyeglass frames steady by gently wedging it between the counter and my stomach and then using my left hand as just a dead weight to keep it from tipping over. I could then use my right hand to turn a screw. Ingenious, but difficult as hell. Adjusting a pair of frames was a different matter entirely, and there were a few times I had to embarrassingly ask patients to come back another time when someone more able was available. Working like this was beyond complicated and completely exhausting.

As if trying to work this way wasn’t demanding enough, the very act of getting to work was another task entirely. As someone who has always taken pride in her appearance and maintained a professional image at work, I was finding it extremely difficult to show up looking like I had just rolled out of bed. A look, mind you, that took me a good hour to achieve. It was simply impossible to do a pony tail with one hand (though that didn’t prevent me from attempting this every single morning) and, despite my best efforts, a frizzy mess was the best I could pull off. Button-up blouses were completely out of the question, so I resorted to some of my nicer t-shirts, hoping no one would notice they were t-shits underneath my lab coat. Makeup was reduced to the bare minimum, as I was learning just how much I used my left hand to apply eyeliner and mascara. Jewelry was also out of the question, as I had no means of fastening a necklace or even my watch. Thank God I had slip-on shoes I could wear to work.

I had no idea how much I used my left hand until I couldn’t.

Living like this was draining to the core. My days at work consumed every ounce of energy and motivation I possessed, and I spent my evenings at home on the couch or in bed with a heat pack on my freezing-but-not-really -freezing hand, my laptop and a billion questions racing through my mind. Where were the Doctor House’s of the world when you needed them? Sure, Dr. House would have to stop my heart a few times and unnecessarily saw open my skull, but after making an intern cry and some sharply delivered wit he (and those piercing blue eyes) would have me diagnosed in an hour (45 minutes without commercials). *sigh* If only.

Once again, my husband was an absolute gem. He stepped up and took complete responsibility for all the household chores, laundry and meal preparation. He was working full time, same as me, but he knew I just didn’t have it in me at the end of the day. It was difficult for me to sit idly while Nick did all the things that I felt I was supposed to be doing. But once again he did it without question and with love. My attempts to help were only met with protest. God bless that man.

Sleep was difficult to come by due to a combination of pain, discomfort and worry and I spent quite a few nights online looking up information on my symptoms. I found a lot of information on compressed spinal discs and pinched nerves, but not all of the symptoms fit and I had symptoms above and beyond the norm for those conditions. Strokes kept coming up in my searches, but it didn’t seem likely that I could be having strokes. Could it? No, I would know if they were strokes. Wouldn’t I? Then I remembered WebMd and their symptom checker. I had only used it in the past for minor things like coughs and fevers, but I thought perhaps it could be a simple way to get more information on other conditions.

I plugged in my two major symptoms first, the numbness on my left side and the paralysis, which resulted in a fairly large list. As I kept adding symptoms, the list narrowed and three possible conditions moved to the top of the list: Transient ischemic attack (a TIA or mini stroke), stroke and Multiple Sclerosis.

Part 6: Deja-vu

I went to bed on Thanksgiving night hoping against hope that I would wake up the next day to a fully-functioning body. No such luck. The entire left side of my body was still numb and aching, my chest was still being squeezed and my hand was still paralyzed. Brilliant. Also, that funny thing with my feet was back; that prickly sort of shocking sensation they would get when I tipped my head down. It had been quite some time since I experienced this and I never really thought anything of it before. Strange it would come back now with everything else going on.

My panic had eased at this point since none of my limbs had fallen off in the night, but I was still terribly disturbed by the fact that half my body was malfunctioning. Looking back, this was the third time something weird and inexplicable had occurred with my body. And each occurrence had been more intense than the last. Could there be a connection? Surely this wasn’t coincidence; all these symptoms must be suggestive of something. The question was….what?

The only medical office open that holiday weekend was InstaCare. They’re notorious for their long waits, but I felt it was imperative to be seen that day. Once again Nick had to help me get dressed. I struggled to put my hair in a pony tail for nearly twenty minutes, during which time I uttered some pretty creative curse words and damned several things to hell. Eventually I gave up and decided just to go. At least I had shoes on, which Nick had to tie for me.

Once we arrived and were in the exam room, I was rather impressed to learn that all patient charts were now on computer and that this doctor also had access to my medical history right on his laptop. Neat! That would save me a lot of explaining. The doctor seemed to listen attentively as I detailed everything I was experiencing, even mentioning the feet thing and some of my past experiences with the vertigo and facial numbness. He asked a couple clarifying questions and did a few sensory tests, making notes along the way. Then, much to my shock and amazement, some very familiar words were spoken….

“Well, I don’t know that I’d really be too worried about it. These neurological disturbances happen sometimes and they usually go away on their own.”

Uhhhhhh……he was joking, right? He had to be fucking joking. Was I really hearing this for what seemed like the hundredth time? I’d lost feeling in half my body and my hand was paralyzed! That just happens sometimes?? This really raises no red flags? An eyebrow even? Was this guy really going to send me out the door with yet another “don’t worry about it”?

I was floored. I honestly don’t know what I was expecting to hear, but I was certainly not expecting to be disregarded once again. My concern was now giving way to exasperation and anger.

Part of me really wanted to lay into this guy and impart the extremely colorful rant that was going through my head. But logic told me it would be useless to argue with him and that it could really only result in some uncomplimentary notes in my medical file. I simply gave him a disingenuous thanks and left.

I’d had it. Something was going on and I was no longer buying the story of “these things just happen”. The facial numbness, the dizziness, the tingling in my feet, the vertigo and now this; something was definitely not right. Why would no one take me seriously?

I had never fathomed that something like this was possible. Aren’t doctors supposed to be the authority on the human body? Is it not their trade to investigate the clues to come to a diagnosis and work to restore health? I realize that doctors are also human beings, and human beings can be flawed. No one is perfect, not even physicians. But four in a row giving me the same mollifying explanation was, in my opinion, beyond contemptible.

I was done. I resolved to not waste any more time with doctors. Instead, I decided to look into the options available with alternative medicine and, in the meantime, start doing a bit of my own research.

The Beginning - Part 4: Doctors (continued)

March gave way into April and I was starting to feel some improvement. The dizziness was slowly diminishing and by the third week in April, it was gone. At this point there seemed little reason to keep my appointment the following week with Dr. Dizzy, but I decided to go anyway. I waited all this time, I might as well discuss what happened; perhaps he could shed some light on this mystery.

Dr. Dizzy was very kind and patient, and listened attentively as I recounted yet again the events that began nearly two months ago. He performed a few tests that measured my eye movement and hearing, as well as my balance and responses to certain head movements and changes in head level (between sitting, laying down, etc.). All of my responses were normal. "Everything looks just fine," he said. “I’m not sure what the problem is.”

Um….no kidding! Of course everything is fine...now! Whatever this was had passed while I was waiting a month to be seen. At this point I was simply hoping for an experts’ theory on what could have happened and if it's something I should be concerned about. Might he have an inkling, a tiny sparking ember of an idea? No such luck. After waiting a month for this guy who was built up as a leading expert, being told the obvious was a bit more than I could take.

I often thank the powers that be that others are unable to hear my internal dialogue. And instead of imparting the rant that was going on inside my head, I simply smiled, thanked him for his time and left his office feeling considerably agitated.

Someone once said that expectation is the root of all heartache. I don't know what I expected from this doctor, but yet another "I don't know" certainly wasn't it. I decided there was no point in pursuing this any further and resolved to put it out of my mind. After all, Summer was just around the corner and the next few months were going to be jam-packed.

Nick and I were set to be the attendants at our friend's wedding to be held in Las Vegas the first weekend in May. There was also a trip to Seattle booked for the end of May with my best friend. Additionally, we had begun packing up our apartment as we had begun a bit of preliminary house-hunting with promising prospects. Plus with Mothers Day and Fathers Day coming up, I just didn't have time worry about this anymore. Whatever it was, it was over and I was looking forward to a really great Summer.

The Beginning - Part 4: Doctors

My doctor's office was able to work me in for an appointment the very next day. “Wonderful,” I thought! I already felt somewhat relieved that I was about to have some light shed on this mysterious experience. Thursday came, by which time I was starting to feel a bit less like I was living in a fun house, though I was still dizzy and my stomach continued to be disagreeable. I still wasn’t eating much, but at least I wasn’t throwing anything up either.

When Nick came home from work, we hopped in the car. I was a tad anxious about the car ride, worried that the motion might trigger another puke-fest all over the floor of my nice Thunderbird. But we made it to the doctors’ office without an incident and Nick and I sat patiently in the waiting room, eager to find out what the devil was going on.

When the doctor came into the exam room he reviewed my symptoms and did a quick physical exam while I detailed the last four days. "Is it possible you're pregnant," he then asked?

Truth be told, that was one of the first things that crossed my mind too. However I assured him it was unlikely as I had already taken two pregnancy tests at home with negative results and hadn't missed any periods. He agreed pregnancy was unlikely and threw out a few other ideas....inner ear disturbance, some kind of virus, possible B-12 deficiency. He drew some blood, said he would run some tests and get back to me.

A week later, the results were in. Everything was normal. He went on to explain that "sometimes these things happen and they tend to resolve themselves, I really wouldn't worry about it". That sounded like a very pacifying way of saying "I don't know" to me. But, he's the medical professional. Surely he wouldn't send me on my way if there was truly something to be concerned about. And I was starting to feel better. Maybe I really shouldn't worry about it.

A week passed. While the vertigo seemed to have subsided and I felt decent enough to return to work, I was still constantly dizzy and felt mildly nauseated most of the time. I was also unusually tired. Something was just not right. I decided to get a second opinion and made an appointment with another doctor in our neighborhood, opting for a woman this time in hopes of a bit more consideration.

After hearing my account of the last couple weeks, Dr. McLady* believed it likely I was having a silent migraine, which is a migraine without the headache. I hadn't heard of this before, but she assured me they were quite common and can sometimes be accompanied by the symptoms I had been experiencing. She also assured me this was very easily treatable and recommended a course of low-dose Valium to be taken consistently for two weeks.

Well this was certainly a step ahead of Dr.Don't Worry About It and sounded like it could be progress. I started the treatment and two weeks later....(drum roll please)....I was feeling exactly the same. The only change I noticed was the increase in my frustration.

When I explained this at my follow up visit, Dr. McLady admitted she wasn't sure what was going on, but referred me to an otolaryngologist (ENT) who specialized in dizziness. I was growing weary at this point, but supposed this guy was worth a try. Third time's a charm, perhaps?

When I called to schedule an appointment with Dr. Dizzy*, I was informed his soonest opening was in a month. A month?? I had already spent a month getting nowhere and I was none too keen on waiting another. The receptionist explained that Dr. Dizzy came highly recommended and assured me that he was worth the wait. I supposed if this guy really was the Gregory House of otolaryngology then it was probably in my best interest to see him. Feeling slightly defeated, I scheduled the appointment for the last week in April.

*Names have been changed to protect the imperceptive.