Those of
you who know me know that, if your question to me starts with ‘do you
remember,’ the answer will likely be ‘no.’ Chances are it’s in my memory bank
somewhere, hidden in the dark recesses that have been inexplicably masked by
something yet unidentified. It’s why I blog. My memory is fleeting and fuzzy at
best. The most important events in my life – well, some of them anyway – are shadows
in a cave. There, but invisible. I forget events. People. Movies I saw.
Conversations I had. Places I've been. Dave says, 'surprising things'.
I’ve
always attributed it to when I fell off my horse, Molly, back in, oh, somewhere
around 1999. I can’t remember exactly when it was. I was riding through the
field behind our house and she spooked some little skittery creature. I think I
remember seeing a fox. She spun and I didn’t. I fell and she didn’t. I’m not
sure how long I was knocked out, but I woke up with her standing quietly above
me, wondering what the hell just happened and why I was on the ground.
Thankfully she didn’t remember either. I was in too much pain to ‘get back on
the horse’ as the adage goes, so we walked home. I was sobbing. She was
indifferent. It was probably only a mile. I untacked her, put her in the barn,
went inside, and got in my bed. Dave came up to see what was going on and
suggested we go to the emergency room. When I couldn’t sit up for fear of the
searing metal rod I was sure had impaled my spine and cranium would pierce
through the skin and paralyze me forever. I think I remember Dave carrying me
to the car. Maybe I walked. We should have called an ambulance, in all reality.
After hours in the ER, x-rays, and probably a bunch of other stuff, I was
diagnosed with a compressed hip joint and a broken cervical vertebra. The 7th,
I think. Anyway, I’ve always thought I probably suffered a brain injury as
well, which resulted in my defective head.
Memories
aren’t the only things slipping from me. I lose track of things, have a hard
time finding words, misspell and mistype, get lost, lose my bearings. My
hearing is degrading faster than it should. My vision is becoming less clear at
an alarming rate. I have headaches. Oh, the headaches. (Sounds like Dr.
Seuss.) Over the last two or three years, all of those have been getting
worse, faster. Anyway, after one particularly gripping one that knocked me out
for about 5 days, I decided it was time to see a doctor about it all. Dave looked
at me kind of funny when I suggested it and said that I’d been to see a doctor
about it all already. Twice. I didn’t remember. So, I decided it was time to
see a doctor about it all . . . again.
I saw a
physician’s assistant at my normal medical clinic on November 16. She did a basic neurological
exam (‘follow my finger with your eyes, touch your nose, what day is it’),
which I passed with flying colors. She determined that my headaches weren’t
migraines since I didn’t get nauseous. That was good. She didn’t think that
Early Onset Alzheimer’s was a possibility since there was no family history.
That was good. She deduced that they were ‘tension headaches’ caused by tight
muscles in my neck and shoulders, but sent me for a CT scan, just to be safe.
It was normal. When she called me with the results, 10 days later, she acted
like that was the end of it. When I asked what I could do about my headaches,
she said she had no idea and referred me to a neurologist. That was four hours
of my life I’ll never get back.
The neurologist,
however, was a beacon of light in my cave. It took some effort to find him. I called the place closest to me and they said they could certainly see me - in June. What? It's December. So, I called the 'patient advocates' at my insurance company, and they helped me find Neurological Associates, located in a neighboring town. Granted I'd have to drive farther, but they could get me in on December 16. I'll take it. Dave went with me since the doctor
would undoubtedly want to know all about my symptoms, medical history, things I
had noticed, what I didn’t remember and I undoubtedly wouldn’t remember. The
doctor – P.A., actually – was thorough, polite, didn’t make me feel rushed or
stupid, and talked to us for about 90 minutes. He did the same basic
neurological exam, which I passed with flying colors. Again. He asked LOTS of
questions, many of which Dave had to answer, correct, or refute. He said that
the headaches could be caused by a myriad of things, and that the memory loss
could be as simple as my body having to work so hard to deal with the pain that
it doesn’t have the energy to also remember things. Huh. Sounds lazy. Or, the
memory loss, vision loss, hearing loss, and resulting frustration of all of the
above could be causing my head to hurt. No wonder. Basically, he had no idea
either. I’m an anomaly.
So, he
referred me for a plethora of testing:
- an EEG (to measure brain activity
and rule out a micro-seizure disorder),
For this
test, I returned to the office where I saw Dr. Andrew, Neurological Associates,
in Orem. I forgot how to get there, but luckily my GPS remembered.
The
doctor’s office called me the day before with instructions:
The test
will last two hours, so be prepared for that - I told the office I’d be there by Noon, so that work out alright.
Clean,
dry hair with no product in it - Well, okay. I can clip it up afterward. I’ll just have to remember to bring my hairspray.
Freshly-washed
face with no moisturizer or make up - I can put some on in the car afterwards. I’ll just have to remember to bring my makeup bag.
No
stimulants like coffee, and no alcohol for 8 hours prior to the test - Ummm . .
. I’m sorry, what? That might be a dealbreaker.
So, I’m
going to look like crap and be tired. Great.
When I
got to the doctor’s office, a few minutes before my 9:00 a.m. appointment time,
they weren’t ready for me. In fact, I waited almost 40 minutes past
my appointment time. I finally went back to the ‘sleep room,’
complete with a comfy bed. My immediate thought was, “just go away and let me have a nap since
you wouldn’t let me have any coffee”. The tech explained what
would happen. I had 25 wires glued to my head, neck and face, which were hooked
up to a monitor. I looked something like this.
Then I
laid on the bed in the pitch dark while the tech talked to me through a speaker
from another room giving polite instructions. She must have been
able to see me but not hear me because she said that, if I needed anything, I
should raise my hand for four or five seconds. I pictured one of
those infrared scenes from Paranormal Activity.
Open your eyes.
Close your eyes.
Open.
Close.
Open and blink twice.
Close.
Now we’re
entering the hyperventilation stage. (What? Aren’t you supposed
to avoid hyperventilating?)
Breathe deeper and more
quickly than you usually do.
[after 1 minute] Speed up
your breathing.
[after two more minutes]
Now we’re going to flash a strobe light. Try to keep your eyes open and your
face relaxed.
Commence
mind-numbing unnaturally bright flashes at random intervals punctuated by plunges
into otherworldly pitch black.
Seriously.
Have you ever tried that? Was she kidding? By the end of about 2 or 3 minutes,
my eyes were watering, my face was tingling like I’d just sucked on a lemon,
and my head was pounding! I think they were trying to induce a seizure. Forget
hyperventilation-avoidance. We should be teaching our kids to stay the hell
away from strobe lights.
My reward
was getting to lay on the bed in the dark for 30 minutes while she discreetly
monitored my brain waves from the other room. I’m pretty sure I snored at least
twice. I’m glad she couldn’t hear me. It wasn’t as comfy
as it looked, although that could have had something to do with the wires
sticking out of my head.
When I
came out of the room, my hair still had glue and pieces of gauze throughout it
and was sticking up every which way. There were red marks on my face and neck
from the pen she used to measure, and from the tape being ripped off. Something
like this little guy.
Add to
that attractive look the wicked headache I’d woken up with and that had only
gotten worse with no coffee and no breakfast (I forgot to eat), and I opted to
work from home the rest of the afternoon.
I think I
should get the results in a week or so . . . Stay tuned.
- an EKG (to measure my heart
activity since I have an irregular heartbeat and a lack of oxygen could
cause headaches – among other fatal things),
Ummm . . . I don't think I had this one. I'd better check with the doctor.
- blood work (including a CBC to
measure overall health and rule out anemia and infection, a met panel to
check kidney and liver function, a sed rate test to check for
inflammation, and both a T3 and a TSH to check my thyroid),
Have I ever told you about my veins? They're angry. Or shy. Or something. And they're directly connected to my eyes. They're in cahoots. Whenever my eyes see a needle, my veins collapse. I think they're going incognito in response to an enemy invasion. I didn't know this about my dumb veins until I had deep veinous thrombosis, a.k.a. blood clots, following a car accident, resulting in chondromalacia patellae ~ crushed kneecap cartilage ~ resulting in a knee brace, resulting in a blood clot that ran the full length of my right leg, resulting in surgery, resulting in six months in the hospital (okay, it was only 12 days, but it felt like six months). Every hour or so the phlebotomists just couldn't wait to get into my room and give me a poke to check my clotting ability, a medicine adjustment, another poke, another adjustment, and so on throughout the day and night for 6 mo-, uhhh, 12 days. Anywho, I am grateful I know that about my dumb veins now. Not that it does any good. The phlebotomists think they're smarter than my dumb veins. But, alas. They are not, which usually results in multiple pokes. Like this time. Only two, though, so that was good. Perhaps a record. After obediently filling three vials, my veins were allowed a well-deserved rest and some whining.
I think I should get the results in a week or so . . . Stay tuned.
- an overnight oximeter to monitor
my oxygen levels during sleep
You know that thing they stick on your fingertip when you go to the doctor to check your blood oxygen levels? I had one of those on overnight. It wasn't too bad, except the cord connecting the fingertip thingy to the monitor was kind of short, so I had to keep it next to me on the bed.
I think I should get the results in a week or so . . . Stay tuned.
- a Holter monitor that will provide
a 24-hour look at my heart activity.
So this was a royal pain. Standing was fine, sitting was uncomfortable, and sleep was impossible with stickers stuck all over my chest and belly, and wires attaching those to a monitor that had a very bright green light. I managed to keep it under my pillow and somehow remembered to drag the monitor with me each time I rolled over. Unfortunately, when I woke up, 12-hours into my 24-hours of required monitoring, I forgot about the monitor and stood up out of bed. The monitor dropped to the length of the wires, without coming unplugged, and then made a loud continuous beep and the green light shut off. I called the heart monitor giver-outers when I got in to work and they said that the unit would likely have kept recording, had the technician that affixed it to me given me a monitor with an actual battery compartment cover as opposed to one covered with tape. Sheesh. They took the monitor back and assured me they would let me know if I needed to re-do the test because of the shortened monitoring time. I've not heard back, so I presume I'm done with that.
I think I should get the results in a week or so . . . Stay tuned.
I was
also prescribed a low-dose blood pressure medication (Propranolol) and an
anti-depressant (Amitriptyline – wait, haven’t I been on that once before? I
don’t remember.) to work as a preventative medicine for keeping the headaches
at bay.
Two and a half weeks in and I think this is actually helping. I've had some headache-free days, more than not, actually, and have only had two that ranked 3 out of 4.
Holy
schnikies. I’m exhausted just thinking about it all! I go back again in
about a month to follow up with him. The results (that’s another to-be-written
post) will hopefully tell me why my head is defective and what came first – the
headache or the memory. I’m pretty sure a cranial transplant would be easier
and cheaper.
Oh yeah,
and I had my wisdom teeth out, which hasn’t really helped the head-hurting
issue. Hopefully I’ll become wiser now. Or is it the other way around? I don’t
remember.
Hang on. Shouldn't I have some results by now? I'd better check with the doctor . . .
. . . so, it's been way longer than a week - 6 weeks, actually. I finally [after a couple of nasty phone calls and emails] got someone to call me back. Not the doctor. I was told he doesn't call patients.
I'm sorry, is that an option?
The office manager called instead.
Sheesh. I swear it's like taking your car to the mechanic. Whatever we hear/see/feel, doesn't translate when the 'doctor' tests it, which results in no diagnosis.
As you would imagine, everything was normal . . . except my overnight oximeter.
The result showed that my oxygen saturation levels dropped to between 84 and 89% nearly one-quarter of the night. In other words, there wasn't enough oxygen going through my system to perform 'normal' function, which occurs when oxygen levels are between 95% and 100%. As you can imagine, lack of oxygen causes issues in a body, similar to what someone would experience at very high altitudes - confusion, headaches, dizziness. The next step is to participate in an overnight sleep study.
When I Googled that, these are some of the pictures that came up.
I have a feeling there won't be much actual sleep going on . . . Stay tuned.
My sleep study has been scheduled for April 22. Unfortunately, I'll run out of my headache prevention medicine before that, and the doctor won't refill it until he sees me again, and he won't see me again until after the sleep study results are in. Maybe I need a new doctor. At least I understand now why it was so easy to get an appointment with them! No one wants to go there. Sheesh. . . Stay tuned.
