Thursday, April 22, 2010

Nothin' Easy

So now it's Thursday and I'm having trouble typing today for my hands shaking and my head spinning. I bet you're thinking, "Take an Advil, dummy!" I would if it would help, but when I say spinning I mean spinning like Linda Blair in 'The Exorcist.' So much has gone down today I prolly couldn't regurgitate it back to you if my life depended on it. Let's give it a go, shall we?

First things first. Tuesday night the toughest part of getting my test results was my walking to get them. Yes, Jason dropped me at the door but I did have to walk to the records window. Pathetic! I know. Once there, all I had to do was sign for them. I struggled thru my still new to me, somewhat longer than before, signature (it never looks the same) and ran with the disc hoping they wouldn't change their minds. No? You got me. I didn't run, but I did leave watching my back - just knowing nothing could be that easy.

No one tackled me to the ground to wrestle the disc away from me as I waited for Jason and boys to bring the truck. We'd made it to the exit of the parking lot when I turned to my uber smart super computer geek know it all technology husband and said, "We prolly won't be able to read anything off this disc." His adorable wrinkled brow dismissed my doubt with a grin. I love this man. Have I said that already?

The rest of the evening was spent looking at zillions of pictures of my head. Yes, Virginia there really is a Santa Claus. And I really have a brain. I gots proof people. No trip to Oz for me, unless its for a cure. I've got the brain, and pics to prove it. I've got the heart, 'cause I can hear it pounding after I go upstairs. And the courage? Got it! I've already offered to let all interested parties give clearing my veins out a go. Offer still stands, and still no takers. Who's callin' who chicken? Chicken! So, yeh, I ain't scared!

Wednesday. Hump day. More like, how 'bout call it how many brick walls can you hit and still survive day? Grrrrrrr. Georgetown hadn't called, while Facebookers were gettin' appts. scheduled. What up doc Pee? (Rhymes with pee, starts with L) Guess what? He ain't signing anything. One paper that gives directions on what is required of patients mentions "neurologist signature."

The actual paper requiring the signature (which I could do by myself by the way, with my feet, blindfolded, doin' 60 or so off roadin' in mud and ruts from the unrestrained bed of an '87 Chevy 4x4, while having a seizure, and . . . well, you get the point) said nothing on it but referring physician. Are you not a physician, Dr. Pee? Crap!

Anyways. Huh! Then other Facebookers get into the Philly Hospital I'd contacted. Welllll, wonder when they happened upon this place? Surely not since I had, cause I still hadn't heard back. Bum luck I tell ya. Grrrrrrrr! Interesting fact: I not only type the word, "Grrrrrrrr!" I actually growl. Outloud. Hear that? Yeh, I knew ya could.

Wednesday night we joined the church. Point Township Church of the Nazarene. Great place, even greater people. I'd been going there since I was a little girl - about time I made it official. I'm so blessed to be a part of this church and it's wonderful church family. Amen! I even stood up during most of our entrance ceremony. If only Uncle Scott would've prayed faster! What's with pastor's these days?

Kidding of course! I love my Uncle Scott and his entire family. How many of the congregation can say, "The pastor gave me my first Bible?" Some? Well how about, "The pastor gave me my first Mountain Dew?" Anybody? Anybody? Didn't think so. I was the first Angie he ever loved, ya know. Allright, already! Again with the blathering on . . . isn't that what blogs are for?

On to Thursday. Trash day. Yeah! Or not. Jason let me sleep in this morning, thus I wasn't up to nag him about the trash and suffice it to say - our trash remains. Gooch doesn't mind though 'cause he's been unusually fond of something in the week's trash, so this merely means he'll have another go at retrieval of said object. And I thought he was a full-blooded pit. Alas when there's something worth retrieving I think we've all got a little retriever in us.

That silly analogy made - after my day today - I'd prefer the pit bulls' skills to the retrievers' skills for my CCSVI search. After church last night, I decided again to give it to God. I wasn't getting anywhere myself and on top of that I was growing weak. Plus, three going on four weeks now I've basically been ignoring everything else going on around me. Striving so hard to become a better mother and wife - who had I become in the mean time?

Just before 8 as I was snuggling with Abel and begging for just one more minute in bed - the phone rings. It was Deaconess needing more information so they could better quote me on costs for a procedure I had inquired about. I can't answer any of this kind woman's questions as I should have been able to. I explain neuro says its vascular. GP won't refer to vascular cause MS is neuro. And I just filled out countless online forms to everywhere hoping someone that would listen would call me back. And she had been the first. And I thanked her! She promised to nose around a bit and she what headway she could make. And I thanked her again!

Then to check my email. A couple rejections, but with sorrys and well wishes. Okay, at least they'll go to bed tonight knowing there's a new condition out there. It's officially a condition now too. Yeah! Celebrate! No? Not so quick - still nothing from Philly. And Jason's faxing Georgetown papers to my neuro. Hope that goes well. My fingers aren't crossed since I'm typing, but my legs are, hmmmmm, when did I potty last?

So back and forth with the super ultra kind Cali guy who actually has MS and is working for his neuro dad - only to discover they have to have a scrip from my doc going even so far as to require documents on kidney function. Yikes! That can't be good. Jason's been the one corresponding with him, but jokingly refers to him as my boyfriend. Ha! I guess me and my boyfriend's relationship has hit the skids. Bummer, dude. It would've been cool to see the boardwalk where they made 'The Lost Boys.'

Cali's still a maybe I guess. Along with the old original Bulgaria, Poland, NY, Philly, Georgetown and Owensboro?! What? So the Deaconess lady gets with Special Procedures who recommends a neuro surgeon. Invasive sounding right? Well, this maverick seems a bit intrigued. I hope he stays that way. He needs my family doc's ok to give things a look see first. Huh! After tomorrow morning I may be in the market for a doctor. I only hope this neuro surgeon doesn't lose interest in the meantime.

G'pa is from Kentucky. Gooch is from Kentucky. Could the guy to give me my old life back be from Kentucky too? Pray he is. We planted Kentucky Bluegrass in our yard and its starting to come up. Could that be a sign? Hum with me as I fumble the Kentucky State song. Hmmm, mmm, hmmm, old Kentucky home, hmmm, mmm . . .

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