I woke in the room from which I had started to the sound of Jason's footsteps. I didn't have my glasses back on yet, but still, I could tell it wasn't good news. I asked him right away if the doc had talked to him. He answered, "Yes." The silence that followed reassured my initial feeling that the news can't have been good. If it had been Jason would have skipped down the hall whistling and singing and be eager to tell me all about it. Alas, it had to have been bad news.
I hate being right all the time. Seriously, his head hung down and shoulders drooped as he grasped the rail of my bed and gave me the news. He told me that even the good doctor had sounded disappointed upon talking to him. He went on to say that he went ahead with the venogram knowing how desperately we'd wanted them to find something. But, as far as he could see, aside from some narrowing in the chest, everything looked pretty ordinary to him.
As Jason gave me the information I returned it with uncontrollable tears. He got closer to me to tell me not to cry and as he did I saw tears in his eyes too. Once our wells ran dry a nurse entered asking if we were ready for the rest of my family to come in. "No!" I demanded and began to cry again. This was sooo not me. I'd been prepared for this.
First, I didn't even think he was gonna do the right test. Arteries vs. veins, I sure have learned alot about the human body these past months. Second, just because he'd added the proper test while I was still on the table didn't mean he'd know exactly what he was looking for. Thus, one could argue maybe he had missed something. A kink here or there that doesn't bother the normal person but some how or another makes me drag my leg. And third, pull it together Angela! You ain't gonna die from this. Suck it up, buttercup!
Poland in '11, right?! Now that really would have sucked. To be that far away and over $12,000 gone to find out I don't have it! Can you imagine? My rational next plan of action was to get my results on CD and send them to all the big names in CCSVI to review. I hadn't been this quick on my feet, but had thought this up earlier in case I was to receive this crappy news. "Be prepared," just like the Boy Scout motto. This too shall pass. I made it thru alive and for that I thank God. Send in the fam!
Well, hey, Angel had joined them. I was so happy to see her. I felt that she would understnd my disappointment but be there to help nudge me along forward towards my goal. At this point I could have very easily fallen from this path on to another or worse - back to the road with no outlet I'd been traveling the past 10 years.
So throughout the remaining time I had to spend flat in bed I came up with this: There is a fix for people with MS. That is a fact. And for the first time in the 10 years I've had this MonSter I've had hope that I could get better vs. constantly worse. So one of three things was going to happen from all this come Hell or high water.
1. A stenosis was going to be found and fixed alleviating my symptoms and stopping further damage. OR 2. Someone is going to figure out I've been misdiagnosed this entire time and I just have BLAH, BLAH, BLAH. And that's an easy fix too! Sorry we missed that before! OR 3. I'll start on a new drug I've heard countless other MSers rave about as doing wonders for their walking and fatigue. All 3 scenarios sound better than the one I had been in. The one in which I sadly gave in to whatever came at me with a shrug of my shoulders and MS as an excuse.
I had been down if no one had noticed. I needed my anti-depressants for more than just fighting the side effects of my MS meds. I was missing out on soooo much. And there was nothing I could do about it besides take it in stride and deteriorate with some dignity. Enjoying as much as I can, while I can. What a defeated attitude. That had never been me. And never an Orth! Why should it be me now? I was gonna fight! Hell, I might've even wanted a fight.
STRIKE ONE! Two to go before I'm out. Or boxing, let's do boxing. Ivan Drago could win all the rounds allowed before a call, BUT if Rocky waited 'til the last seconds of the last round to lay him out for a ten count then --- "Your winner, ladies and gentleman, is Rockyyyyyy Balboooooa!"
So going back to Oz, Dorothy and crew had to bring the Wizard the Wicked Witch of the West's broomstick before he would grant them any wishes. So what's next, you ask? Well, it's really quite simple. I'm off to fetch the broomstick! Flying monkies be damned!