The MRI/MRA went way better than I'd feared. Lots of people told me about their own experiences and what to expect and so the impression I had was of being in a tiny, confined space, having to be totally still for 40 minutes straight, being cold, and hearing loud noises. Fortunately, that wasn't the case at all. Instead, I was placed on a bed, my head was closed in a wide cage-like thing, and my ears were cushioned by headphones. I was then pushed into a rather open tube with plenty of air (which wasn't all that cold), and the test began. Yes, the noises were very loud. It truly sounded like I was on a construction site. But I was allowed to fidget with my hands and feet and I kept my eyes closed so it wasn't that bad. What's more, it wasn't 40 minutes straight or even 40 minutes at all. There were several scans and I counted during most of them, never making it past 250. All in all, it wasn't bad. Oh, and the Valium was delightful! I didn't feel high or woozy or anything like that. I simply felt like a much calmer version of myself. I have since told many people that I think Valium Cat would be preferable to those I work with over up-tight, tightly-wound, type A, hyper, spastic Cat. But too bad because this is what you get.
Now, as for something I did not talk about earlier: my appointment with the neuro-ophthalmologist. This last four hours and the nurse I was with was lovely. The tests, on the other hand, were not. I had completed a god-awful visual field test the day before but I had to undergo a longer one. This was why I'd requested a sedative for the MRI. When you undergo the visual field test, you wear an eye patch and put your head and chin into appropriate braces. You focus your one free eye on an orange light and click a mouse whenever you see a flash of light anywhere (do not follow the light, just click when you see it). Now, that flash of light may be very obvious or may appear as just a shadow. Click when you see anything. The first time I did this, they began with my right eye, the one with all the problems. Half the time when I clicked, I didn't know if I saw something, had the memory of seeing something, or was making it up. It took forever and I got super antsy because I wanted - neigh, needed - to move my head. Obviously, finding out that I had to do it all over again the next day, and for a greater length of time, did not make me happy. Before we did that, however, I had to do another test, one that took a scan of my eye. I had to place my chin on a rest and focus on a blue light off towards my nose and not blink. This turned out to be even worse than the other test, especially when I had to have a redo of one scan three times.
But, so what, it was needed and I got through it. I'd sent J home before these tests because he'd already spent 90 minutes just sitting whilst I answered questions and I wanted him to go home and get things done or eat or whatever. I regretted that as soon as the doctor himself came in. He threw me a "hullo" and then sat down at the computer, typed, barked questions at me, typed, made me feel bad or dumb about my answers, and typed some more. Then he abruptly came to examine me, not seeming to care or even register the pain I felt, before returning to type without speaking for at least 10 minutes. At one point, I shit you not, he came back, pressed my temples, various places on my face, and then told me to close my eyes and pressed on my eyelids, making me wince and yelp. He said "that answers my question" to which I replied "yes!" He could have just fucking asked "does it hurt your right eye if you put pressure against your lid?"
At first I felt like a little kid who was in trouble or who had disappointed a grown up. Then I remembered that I was a grown up and began going through what I knew about this guy (I'd looked him up, finding his license and reading biographical information that I could find) and repeated things to myself. "Remember, he is from the east coast. He is either from New York or spent a lot of time there. He is not one of these nice mid-western folks that you've grown accustomed to." I also reminded myself that I didn't have to put up with anything and if he went to far all I had to do was open my mouth and say something. Fortunately, just before I got to the point of telling him that I'd looked him up and knew exactly what his credentials were, we were finished with the examination.
He as a very nice guy at the end, when he was speaking with me about my condition and next steps. He explained that yes, it was just neuritis, that steroids were not necessarily a must, and that we would have to wait for the MRI. Unfortunately, even after I squeaked out something like "I don't think I need to know about this", he insisted on showing me a graph and saying things like "if there are two spots on your MRI showing MS, then... and if there are three spots then...". My man seems to be really into MS. He also seems to hope that I have it. When I asked after other causes, he basically said that was something I would have to discuss with my neurologist when we looked at the MRI results. It was weird how he was. On one hand, he didn't seem to listen to me but on the other, he did ask me, before discussing anything with me, what the ophthalmologist had told me and what I'd learned about neuritis, asking if I'd gone on line and that sort of thing. He was pleased that I'd gone on line and told me to continue researching it. I asked if I could put off looking at the MS foundation website until after the MRI results and he seemed to think I should look anyone (which is why I think he was all MS all the time).
So in the end, I really did not like him as a doctor. I bet he would be great in the research lab but to say that his bedside manner was wanting is like saying a dead person doesn't exhibit much emotion. Who leaves a patient sitting silently for ten minutes? I mean, it wasn't like I couldn't see him typing and moving from screen to screen. He couldn't throw me a few words? And who starts and exam without saying something like "I'm Dr. So and So. I understand you are here for x. What I'm going to do is just look over these notes and then do a few preliminary exams, OK?" This dude just said "hello" and that was all I got from him in the way of introduction. And mother fucker is married to a psychiatrist! I mean, come on! He was also the most unsympathetic person I've ever met. I openly cried at least three times and he didn't even say something like "can I get you a glass of water" or "it's OK, take your time". I had to ask the mother fucker if I could have more tissues after he'd hurt me with the pressing on my closed eye bit!
So yeah, not my favorite medical experience and essentially the opposite of when I was treated by Mrs. Fletcher in the urgent care center. I dread the follow up visit but am buoyed by the fact that I'll see the neurologist the day before and will probably not have to be examined by him again.
And finally, am I the only one who finds it really just, well, wrong when the physician is morbidly obese?
Now, as for something I did not talk about earlier: my appointment with the neuro-ophthalmologist. This last four hours and the nurse I was with was lovely. The tests, on the other hand, were not. I had completed a god-awful visual field test the day before but I had to undergo a longer one. This was why I'd requested a sedative for the MRI. When you undergo the visual field test, you wear an eye patch and put your head and chin into appropriate braces. You focus your one free eye on an orange light and click a mouse whenever you see a flash of light anywhere (do not follow the light, just click when you see it). Now, that flash of light may be very obvious or may appear as just a shadow. Click when you see anything. The first time I did this, they began with my right eye, the one with all the problems. Half the time when I clicked, I didn't know if I saw something, had the memory of seeing something, or was making it up. It took forever and I got super antsy because I wanted - neigh, needed - to move my head. Obviously, finding out that I had to do it all over again the next day, and for a greater length of time, did not make me happy. Before we did that, however, I had to do another test, one that took a scan of my eye. I had to place my chin on a rest and focus on a blue light off towards my nose and not blink. This turned out to be even worse than the other test, especially when I had to have a redo of one scan three times.
But, so what, it was needed and I got through it. I'd sent J home before these tests because he'd already spent 90 minutes just sitting whilst I answered questions and I wanted him to go home and get things done or eat or whatever. I regretted that as soon as the doctor himself came in. He threw me a "hullo" and then sat down at the computer, typed, barked questions at me, typed, made me feel bad or dumb about my answers, and typed some more. Then he abruptly came to examine me, not seeming to care or even register the pain I felt, before returning to type without speaking for at least 10 minutes. At one point, I shit you not, he came back, pressed my temples, various places on my face, and then told me to close my eyes and pressed on my eyelids, making me wince and yelp. He said "that answers my question" to which I replied "yes!" He could have just fucking asked "does it hurt your right eye if you put pressure against your lid?"
At first I felt like a little kid who was in trouble or who had disappointed a grown up. Then I remembered that I was a grown up and began going through what I knew about this guy (I'd looked him up, finding his license and reading biographical information that I could find) and repeated things to myself. "Remember, he is from the east coast. He is either from New York or spent a lot of time there. He is not one of these nice mid-western folks that you've grown accustomed to." I also reminded myself that I didn't have to put up with anything and if he went to far all I had to do was open my mouth and say something. Fortunately, just before I got to the point of telling him that I'd looked him up and knew exactly what his credentials were, we were finished with the examination.
He as a very nice guy at the end, when he was speaking with me about my condition and next steps. He explained that yes, it was just neuritis, that steroids were not necessarily a must, and that we would have to wait for the MRI. Unfortunately, even after I squeaked out something like "I don't think I need to know about this", he insisted on showing me a graph and saying things like "if there are two spots on your MRI showing MS, then... and if there are three spots then...". My man seems to be really into MS. He also seems to hope that I have it. When I asked after other causes, he basically said that was something I would have to discuss with my neurologist when we looked at the MRI results. It was weird how he was. On one hand, he didn't seem to listen to me but on the other, he did ask me, before discussing anything with me, what the ophthalmologist had told me and what I'd learned about neuritis, asking if I'd gone on line and that sort of thing. He was pleased that I'd gone on line and told me to continue researching it. I asked if I could put off looking at the MS foundation website until after the MRI results and he seemed to think I should look anyone (which is why I think he was all MS all the time).
So in the end, I really did not like him as a doctor. I bet he would be great in the research lab but to say that his bedside manner was wanting is like saying a dead person doesn't exhibit much emotion. Who leaves a patient sitting silently for ten minutes? I mean, it wasn't like I couldn't see him typing and moving from screen to screen. He couldn't throw me a few words? And who starts and exam without saying something like "I'm Dr. So and So. I understand you are here for x. What I'm going to do is just look over these notes and then do a few preliminary exams, OK?" This dude just said "hello" and that was all I got from him in the way of introduction. And mother fucker is married to a psychiatrist! I mean, come on! He was also the most unsympathetic person I've ever met. I openly cried at least three times and he didn't even say something like "can I get you a glass of water" or "it's OK, take your time". I had to ask the mother fucker if I could have more tissues after he'd hurt me with the pressing on my closed eye bit!
So yeah, not my favorite medical experience and essentially the opposite of when I was treated by Mrs. Fletcher in the urgent care center. I dread the follow up visit but am buoyed by the fact that I'll see the neurologist the day before and will probably not have to be examined by him again.
And finally, am I the only one who finds it really just, well, wrong when the physician is morbidly obese?
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