September 11, 2012
Because of all the weird changes, headaches and increasing spaciness I was having, I went to the doctors on "9-11".
Well, actually I really went first in late July because my daughter, Kaylin, wouldn't let up. All summer she kept repeating, "There is definitely something wrong with you, Mom! Go to the doctors. Maybe you need some Ritalin or something." and then we would laugh like crazy. But, I did listen to her and went to my general practitioner, who sent me to a neurologist, who ordered an EEG, and MRI instead of dolling out meds. I'm glad that he did that. By September all of my test results were in and I scheduled my follow up visit.
Well, actually I really went first in late July because my daughter, Kaylin, wouldn't let up. All summer she kept repeating, "There is definitely something wrong with you, Mom! Go to the doctors. Maybe you need some Ritalin or something." and then we would laugh like crazy. But, I did listen to her and went to my general practitioner, who sent me to a neurologist, who ordered an EEG, and MRI instead of dolling out meds. I'm glad that he did that. By September all of my test results were in and I scheduled my follow up visit.
My mom and dad are still in New York, eager to watch some
fall sporting events in our area. My nephews both are playing flag football on Sunday mornings at the rodeo grounds, and one of them is a high school football coach. We love attending their games together. It's a fun way to spend time together.
Because I have a follow up visit in Buffalo, NY and Mom and I love to have playtime together, she decides to go with me. So after 27 years of not being with my mom at the doctors, we trek to Dent Neurological on this life altering visit. It’s a girl’s day. Joe and my dad don't even come with. Mom and I wait in the waiting room for about 6 or 7 minutes before we go in to see the physician’s assistant. We go over my symptoms again, they are not earth shattering. For some people they are "normal". The PA writes down that I’m mostly concerned about my heightened senses, distractability, lack of muscle memory - being unable to ride like I used to, and my constant head aches. The PA is on her computer typing madly. She then pulls up my MRI report. There are pictures, cool. To see the pictures better my mom and I scootch closer to her computer screen.
My neurologist's Physician's Assistant hesitantly says, “There
are signs of a sort of cyst in your left frontal lobe. The white portion in this picture shows where." I stare at the picture on her screen. I think back to a couple of weeks ago.
“When are you going to be seeing your doctor next?” pops into my head, remembering what the MRI technician had asked when I was coming out of the MRI tube. “Do you have a neurologist appointment scheduled?” rings loud and crystal clear now. I remember mentioning these two comments to Joe last week after I had the MRI test done. I wasn’t concerned. My curiosity just piqued. Now I see what the technician was worried about, the "thing" jumps right out at you. You don't need to be a brain surgeon to see that there is something wrong.
Because I have a follow up visit in Buffalo, NY and Mom and I love to have playtime together, she decides to go with me. So after 27 years of not being with my mom at the doctors, we trek to Dent Neurological on this life altering visit. It’s a girl’s day. Joe and my dad don't even come with. Mom and I wait in the waiting room for about 6 or 7 minutes before we go in to see the physician’s assistant. We go over my symptoms again, they are not earth shattering. For some people they are "normal". The PA writes down that I’m mostly concerned about my heightened senses, distractability, lack of muscle memory - being unable to ride like I used to, and my constant head aches. The PA is on her computer typing madly. She then pulls up my MRI report. There are pictures, cool. To see the pictures better my mom and I scootch closer to her computer screen.
“When are you going to be seeing your doctor next?” pops into my head, remembering what the MRI technician had asked when I was coming out of the MRI tube. “Do you have a neurologist appointment scheduled?” rings loud and crystal clear now. I remember mentioning these two comments to Joe last week after I had the MRI test done. I wasn’t concerned. My curiosity just piqued. Now I see what the technician was worried about, the "thing" jumps right out at you. You don't need to be a brain surgeon to see that there is something wrong.
Back to the screen my attention turns as the PA scrolls
through a variety of pictures. She picks
up the report and reads some more about the white splotch that keeps showing up in my pictures. Sometimes it's gray surrounded with a white ring, sometimes it's solid gray. And depending on the view, sometimes it's round or sometimes it looks more like the pom pom edge trimming on my pillow, having what appears to be three blobs all connected together.
I feel happy to have an answer. The PA keeps talking. I don’t hear very much of what she is saying, although I'm not sad or scared. I am stunned though and want to know if I can have some Ritalin or some other drug to help me concentrate and stave off the distrations in my life. I am not given any medications to take home, but my mother is on the ball and collects the first of about 40 reports that would be written about my brain "lesion" and that's what we walk out of the doctor's office with. That and a picture of my white splotch.
I feel happy to have an answer. The PA keeps talking. I don’t hear very much of what she is saying, although I'm not sad or scared. I am stunned though and want to know if I can have some Ritalin or some other drug to help me concentrate and stave off the distrations in my life. I am not given any medications to take home, but my mother is on the ball and collects the first of about 40 reports that would be written about my brain "lesion" and that's what we walk out of the doctor's office with. That and a picture of my white splotch.
We barely mentioned "it" as we enjoyed
our luncheon at Panera Bread. Instead we visit and enjoy a delicious bowl of soup side by side. Later I
find out that my mom had been a nervous wreck. I learn that she settles her nerves with
research. Once she got home, she spent countless hours
deciphering the doctor’s report. She gave me a rewritten report for my files. It explains
all that those unknown medical words really meant in easy to understand lingo. This gave both of us knowledge to build our
strength on.
My mom explained that the doctors suspect that I have a meningioma - a type of brain tumor.
My mom explained that the doctors suspect that I have a meningioma - a type of brain tumor.