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November 02, 2001
Sigh.
It hasn't been a great week.
I mentioned that I've been having migraines, right? They started back in the spring -- in April, I think -- and have been getting worse since then. They aren't fun at all -- first my vision gets messed up, and I see lots of flashing lights, then everything goes blurry, then my head starts to feel like someone whacked it with a hammer. No fun. I went to a neurologist, and basically was blown off both times I saw him. The two visits took maybe ten minutes, total. He gave me some medication, and basically told me to not let the door hit me on my way out. After the second visit, I made an appointment with another doctor, one of Dr. I-Couldn't-Care-Less's colleagues. Happily, she turned out to be very nice. The one appointment I've had with her took an hour -- she asked me loads of questions, and examined me, and came up with a plan. First, she took me off the medication Dr. ICCL had me on -- it turns out that, since I have vision problems, that medication is very bad for me. The visual stuff -- the aura -- is caused by blood vessels in my brain constricting. The medication makes them constrict more. This is not a good thing. So, no medication. She also scheduled me for an MRI, which I had Wednesday.
I really didn't think the MRI would be a big deal. I should have paid more attention when the doctor kept offering to prescribe a sedative for me to take beforehand. She warned me that, if I was at all claustrophobic, it would be very unpleasant. I've never really been claustrophobic -- the only thing that really bothers me is being in a big crowd, so I figured as long as they didn't stuff 30 people into the machine with me, I'd be okay. Heh.
I had the MRI at Mt. Auburn Hospital on Wednesday afternoon. I left work early to get there on time, and arrived feeling vaguely nervous. That was more about what the results would be -- a giant tumor? A blood vessel preparing to go pop? Alien eggs hatching in my skull? I wasn't terribly worried about the test itself until I saw the machine. It's really big and intimidating, with a little tiny hole in it. A little tiny hole that they stuff you into. Hmmm. But still, no big deal. I actually thought the whole thing would be kind of cool and sci-fi. I took off everything metal I was wearing, and they settled me on the table. The technition, a tiny little blonde woman, put foam pads around my head to keep me from moving, and put big puffy headphones over my ears. She'd explained that the machine was very loud, and that the headphones would help. She asked me my favorite radio station, and they tuned it in so I could listen to music during the test. No big deal at all. The only thing that bothered me at that point was lying flat on my back without moving -- I don't even sleep on my back, so it's not a terribly comfortable position for me. But still, no big deal. Then she pulled a metal cage over my head -- it came down to my shoulders, and was very very narrow. That made me a bit uneasy. But still, tolerable. Then she moved the table, and me, into the machine. Oh my. Very narrow -- it was pressing against my arms on both sides, so I couldn't move them. There was an angled mirror above me, so I could see into the control room. The tech warned me that I might want to keep my eyes closed, as the angle and the mirror messes with your depth perception. Did I listen? Of course not! I wanted to see what was going on. She tucked a call button into my hand, and walked away. Before she'd even gotten into the other room, I was mauling the poor call button. Yep, I freaked out. Crying, shaking, hyperventilating, the whole works. She ran back in and took my out of the machine, and patted my shoulder until I calmed down. I was really embarrassed -- I was the one who refused the sedative, because I was sure I'd be fine. She explained that most people wig out, because it is such a small space. She said if I couldn't handle it, that we could reschedule, and I could be sedated, and have someone come with me. I hadn't known that I could have a friend stay in the room with me -- Lee had offered to come, and I'd said no, thinking that she'd be stuck in the waiting room reading year-old Reader's Digests for an hour. I think I would have felt much better had I had someone there to hold my hand, or something... but I didn't want to reschedule. I knew there were people waiting, and I also knew that, if they let me leave, I wouldn't go back willingly, so I told them I was just being a baby, and to get it over with. The tech put the headphones back over my ears (Dave Grohl doing a lovely acoustic version of Everlong, one of my favorite songs) and moved the table back into the machine. I kept my eyes closed that time, and tried to ognore the fact that being in that thing felt like lying in a coffin. Tiny and cramped and unable to move, and... ugh. I couldn't hear the radio once the test started, since it makes so much noise (loud rattling and buzzing, mostly) so I just concentrated on breathing, and counting the seconds until it was done. The tech would tall me, via the headphones, when each round of scanning was done, and how long the next one would be. She would also say things like "You're doing great, honey!" which was sweet, but didn't help one little bit. It took a half hour, not the full hour my doctor had told me to plan on (I don't think I could have done an hour. By the end of the half hour, I was starting to panic again). A nurse came and disentagled me from the machine, and led me back to the waiting room to collect my things -- I was very dizzy, for some reason, and couldn't walk without leaning on her. Nerves, maybe? I don't know. I had also tensed up so much that I couldn't turn my head at all -- my neck is still sore, and I had bloody fingernail marks in the palms of my hands. I grabbed my stuff and went outside to find a place to sit and calm down. I called Lee and babbled at her for a bit, until my bus came, and then went to the diner in Harvard Square where my friend Dana works. She listened to my tale of woe, and poured beer into me until I felt better. (There was a girl sitting next to me who'd just had a cervical biopsy, so the two of us huddled at the counter sharing cigarettes and whimpering quietly.) Then I went home to hand out candy to cute little costumed kids (yes, I had the MRI on Halloween -- I should have worn fangs or something) until I was chased off to bed with yet another migraine. A few Buffy reruns and a nap helped with that, though.
So, now I wait a week or so for the results. Part of me is hoping they find something wrong -- something minor, something they can fix with a minimum of difficulty, so that the migraines go away for good. I don't think I want to hear "Well, it's just stress or hormones or whatever, you'll just have to live with it." Maybe it really is alien babies hatching. As long as they behave, I don't mind much. Maybe I'll charge 'em rent.
In other happy news, I was abruptly (and rather curtly) turned down for the very first professional librarian job I applied for. It was in New Hampshire, at the State Library, and it sounded great. The guy in charge of hiring responded to a question I'd emailed with a brief note: "We aren't considering you for this position." I don't have enough professional experience (never mind the fact that I've actually been doing the work for three years now.) Feh. I didn't really want to move out of state at the moment anyway -- I like where I'm living now. I have an excellent roommate (best I've ever had, in fact) and I'm content and comfortable. So phhhht. I'll keep looking. It was only the first application, after all. Can't expect to luck out every time, right?
Posted by Mary Ellen at November 2, 2001 09:32 PM