Forgive me, but I’m terribly impressed with myself right now. I had to stop one of the tests once and repeat it because I thought I’d start screaming from the vertigo. Otherwise, everything went off without a hitch. Mr. Terrierhead joined me at the test site and literally held my hand for a couple of the tests. Have I mentioned yet how wonderful and gorgeous Mr. Terrierhead is? If not, I must rectify the situation right away, as Mr. Terrierhead is a gift from the heavens and I’m more grateful than I can say to have him around.
The bad news, if it can be considered to be bad, is that my tests looked normal for the most part. I actually have better balance than most people my age, which came as a shock. I got a referral for physical therapy and will call tomorrow morning to set up an appointment.
For the time being, I’m drinking a double shot of vodka and being overjoyed that it’s all over. Woo hoo!
If you’ve spent time with terriers, you know they’re scrappy dogs who are usually small in size but have no concept of themselves as being little. They’re stubborn, tough and have a high tolerance for pain, and don’t back down even when they ought to. My own terrier even tries to fight thunderstorms, running from room to room barking until they end. She bosses the pit bull next door around and has my husband and in-laws catering to her every whim by sheer force of will.
I don’t pretend to have all or any of those characteristics. However, I don’t think I’d be getting testing scheduled as quickly as it is, or follow-up so soon had I not made the formal complaint about my rotten experience at the university hospital two weeks back. I forgot to mention earlier, but one of the nurses came to see me before I left the doctor’s office this morning to make sure everything had gone well for me. Certainly, no one has bothered to do so before.
The lesson I’ve learned: don’t hestitate to complain when it’s justified.
I went to see the ENT doctor this morning. He admits that he doesn’t have a clue what’s wrong with me. Next week, I’m scheduled to go through some very distressing tests, and then I’ll see him again. The fact that they’re scheduling things for me without making me wait for weeks at least means that they might be taking me seriously.
The main doctor didn’t see me at all – the resident examined me and had me do some exercises to see if this is all neurological, then went off to consult with the main doctor in another room. At least this resident seems to give half a damn, so it could be worse. He’s also adorable. At least I get eye candy during one of the crappiest times of my life. :-)
I’m having some sort of problem where I feel like I’m moving and I’m not. Honestly, I’m not on drugs. This totally bites and is ruining my life. There’s no progress on my 43T goals because I’m spending lots of time just staying as still as possible so the spinnies don’t get too bad. Sleeping’s even more difficult than usual, because when I start to drift off my head will move and I’ll feel like I’m falling or spinning. There aren’t words in the English language to express how much this sucks.
Incidentally, I did try to see a doctor about this the week before last. He refused to see me because I’d been seen by a different doctor at his hospital in the distant past, and he thought there would be a political problem if he helped me. Incidentally, I didn’t learn this because he told me directly. He said it in full voice outside the exam room in which I’d been waiting for more than an hour. I went outside the room to talk to him, and he refused to even look at me and took off. So, on top of everything else, I’ve got a formal complaint going with the local university hospital. Bleh.