Neurology Appointment-Pt. 1

Neurologist in my city are hard to come by. The pain and anxiety was unbearable and I had to wait until December 10th to be seen by a neurologist. It was on November 5th that I pushed myself to get an appointment as soon as possible. Many of my friends and family members rallied up and asked so many people to assist me in finding someone who could see me as soon as possible. With many leads from my support system's research, we were successful in getting an appointment the very next day. On December 6th I was able to see a Dr. that specialized in neurology.

My mom and I ran to the imaging center where I originally got my MRI for the neurologist to review. Preparing ourselves to get to my Dr.'s appointment, I had a sense of relief on November 6th. This lasted only for a few minutes because as a new patient in any place, there is TONS of paperwork that needs to be filled out. Right away, I was handed this packet asking hundreds of questions... Dear, oh dear, I just took a breath and hit the ground running. I felt I was writing a novel to this doctor about EVERYTHING! Going in, the best advice I had received from a friend with MS was to state EVERYTHING with HONESTY. Holding back will only slow the process and can hinder my healing process. So, I did just that. I answered everything from my first surgery (age 5, tonsillitis) to the allergies I had (there's so many things I am really allergic to, food wise) to how many times did I cry in the past 48 hours (plenty). Well, dang! This poor doctor hadn't met me yet, but knew more about me in 10 minutes than my oldest childhood friend of 22 years!

So, my mom and I wait. Watching election day results in the waiting room, many scoffing at what was happening. I was surprisingly calm... until they called me.

I meet the nurse practitioner and an assistant. We get to talking about what was happening and how I was given a preliminary diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis. We went back to what I believed could have been my first flare up.

In mid October, I had experienced what felt like low blood sugar. I have two really important people in my life with diabetes and I myself was diabetic prior to my WLS gastric sleeve (more backstory to WLS will be coming). What I had experienced was dizziness, low usage of my legs, and exhaustion after a high interval circuit workout with our high school's wrestling team. Well, my stomach can only hold 4 oz. of food at a time and felt I should have had a little something before working out. So I grabbed my emergency snacks and started munching on hummus and wheat thins (all measured and weighted to meet my daily nutritional needs). After 10 minutes, I felt worse. I was back in the wrestling room and my head felt severely heavy. My back was giving out and I could no longer hold myself. I began to fold over in the chair until I finally asked one of our athletes to get our head coach. I felt my tongue couldn't hold up to talk, so I just started slurring my words. He comes over and immediately saw the signs. He got a trainer to check my blood sugar and they prick my finger. Prior to this, I was given an apple by one of our team captain's. Little as she is, this girl is an absolute force to be reckoned with on the mat. She runs over to me with an apple from her stash and I eat it. So, I get poked, trainer takes my blood, and I was in the normal range. So it could have been low blood sugar and I felt a little better after a while. This turned out to be a flare up. There is a key component that, now I look back, was ignored. The slurring of the speech.

The nurse practitioner of the neurologist listened to everything and I stated what I had just experienced on Thursday, November 1st. He proceeds with a series of tests.

I had to take off my shoes with both feet flat on the ground. I follow his commands beginning with "follow my finger with just your eyes" to "lift your hands up then hold them out straight" "to walk towards me with your hand out with your eye closed". There were three tests where I felt that there was something clearly wrong. First was having my arms out in front of me as I was seated. I had to keep my eyes closed, lift my arms up, then down with my hands out at shoulder height. I was to hold that position, but my left hand just kept going down by itself. Then, the grip test. The NP held his arms out with two fingers hanging down. I was to grip his fingers and squeeze as hard as I could. I was only successful with my right hand. Another sign that something was clearly not right. The walking test was what pushed me closer to the edge. We go into a hallway and the NP stands at the opposite side. He has his hand out in front of him and asks me to do the same with my right hand. With the assistant behind me, I was to close my eyes and target his hand with mine and walk to him. I was unsuccessful as they both stopped me in the middle of the test because I was walking towards my left about to hit a wall. The first word that popped into my head was, damn. What is going on?

All of these results are recorded and here comes this sweet and elderly man with a gorgeous cane. This was my neurologist. The NP states everything and he immediately wanted to see my MRI. Well, I was left in the examination room and they go to a computer to view the CD... then they call me out and asked me to sit next to him at the computer. There was my brain, my very own soft tissue mass filled with millions of memories, emotions, and thoughts. The artist in me was just absolutely fascinated, but the look on the neurologist face was far from fascinated. A glazed look of concern runs on both the neurologist and the NP. "Look here", says the neurologist,"these white spots on your brain are lesions. I counted 16-20". I immediately look stunned. The neurologist says, "My dear, you have Multiple Sclerosis and it needs to be treated NOW".

I could no longer hold myself together. Tears start to roll down my cheeks. My heart throbs at the two words I have no knowledge about. Kleenex in my left hand and my neurologists hand in my right hand, I just cried. "We are to fight this, yes", the neurologist states. He stands up and holds my hand to get up. Not letting go he sits me down and grabs my chin. "You are far too young to go through this, but we will go through this TOGETHER", he states.

There is a fight I have to show up for now.

With my weary head lifted by a sweet, old man I just met,

my fight began.

#multiplesclerosis #staystrong #pricklypear #lifelessons#preliminarydiagnosis #newlife #storygoeson