Done.

I’m done. 

I don’t know what else to say besides “I’m fucking done with this shit.”

My followup appointment with the Neurologist was at 3pm. I was done and back in my car by 3:10pm. He rushed me in to his office and told me to have a seat behind his office desk. In all my years of going to the doctor, I have always been seen in an exam room. Never the actual doctors OFFICE. So I thought maybe he has something serious to tell me. “Finally!” , I thought, “someone FOUND what is wrong with me.” I know its sick but I wanted so badly for him to say they found a tumor. Something you can SEE, something that means I have a REAL diagnosis. Something that will either:

A. be operable, so they can just open me up, take it out, and I will return to normal. Or…

B. kill me.

Honestly, I wouldn’t mind either one. But instead I get the answer most people are releived to hear in the doctors office.

“Ms. Watson, your MRI came back clear and normal. And suprisingly your EEG came back normal as well. No episodes were recorded. And since you say your episodes have slowed down since you stopped the Tramadol, it leads me to believe that there is nothing neurologically wrong with you.”

This, as I have stated, is NOT what I wanted to hear. I started to cry. He looks in my chart. Tells me that Cymbalta may not be the right antidepressant. He asks if I am seeing a phychiatrist, and says I should see one to make sure I’m not bi-polar. When I start to tell him about calling a few to see if they are accepting new patients, he looks at his watch. So I cut my sentence short. He tells me that is all he can suggest I do. I start to comment and he just looks at his watch and stands up while I am talking. Basically saying my time is up and he is done with me. I felt like a fool. I felt ignored. I felt abandoned. I felt disappointed and angry all at once. He said to me as I’m standing at the desk (so I can pay my $40 co-pay – for nothing) that he wants to see me in 8 weeks. I said ya sure, then told the receptionist that I didnt want an appointment, and that I would call her if I needed to. Ya right. Like I would ever go there again. The only reason I would go back would be to pick up my medical records.

I walked out of the office and as soon as the door shut behind me I just started bawling in the hallway. It’s like this was my last chance to prove that I’m not crazy, and I lost. I made it to my car and cried some more. Then I somehow made it home, managed to pick up a package from the apartment office and check the mail. I barely remember any of it. I just want to be numb.

I want to crawl in a ball and die. I’m surprised I have the energy to write as much as I have. I don’t want to write about this anymore. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I don’t want to DO THIS anymore. I don’t want to wake up another day if I have to feel this way for the rest of my life. I’m done. I feel I have paid my dues and I don’t deserve any more of this. I want to know why this is happening to me and how much longer I have to endure it. I want to know who I have helped by living this life. What good have I done to this world by living this way? Tell me. I want to fucking know. Otherwise, I don’t see why I keep doing this. Waking up, taking pills, feeling dizzy and nautious or in so much pain I want to cry.

Obviously, I DO need a psychiatrist. Yes I know this. Yes I’m making a fucking appointment. I don’t know why, but I am. I don’t want to, but I’m doing it because I’m fucking human and for some reason, that seems to come with this fucking annoying instinct to want to keep breathing in and out, day after day. SOMETHING is telling me to not give up, God is telling me not to give up, and that is the only reason I won’t. I know I should be doing this because I WANT to get help or because I CARE about my recovery (from whatever the hell this thing is that is ruining my life) but I’m sorry I’m not, because I’m fucking done. If He wants me to keep breathing, He better find a way to do it for me because I’m done doing it alone.

I’m Done.

Details

Ok. So here's the details of the Neuro appointment. I barely remember it, it was so whirlwind fast. First of all, I was supprised to here someone check in after I had sat down, and her appointment was scheduled with my doc at only 15 minutes after mine. I thought that odd since this was my first appointment, but I guess that's why we still have to wait in the small room after they call us back. Anyway…

Second, the doctor himself opened the door to the waiting room to call me back himself, not the nurse. That was a first. But cool. So he barely waits for me to climb up on the table, and he starts firing off questions. "What is happening?" "When did they start?" "What do they feel like?" Etc.

I tried to answer as completely as I could, but he almost wouldn't let me get my answer out of my mouth, and he would be firing off another question. Kind of like at the drive through at a fast food restaurant. You want to tell them no mayo, but they cut you off by asking "what drink do you want with that?" Grrrr. I hate that.

So, I try to blurt out everything that has been happening to me, as fast as I can, and notice that as he's nodding his head (as if he's heard everything before – which when I think of it..he probably has) I see that he has filled up both sides of a blank sheet of paper with illegible scribbles. Somewhere in the middle of all this I for some reason mentioned my Meth use from years ago. Now THAT slowed him down.

"You did meth?"

"Yes. Quite a bit, for about 6-8 months in '91, and then again in '95-'96 for about a year. And maybe twice in the last 8 years."

"Hmmm. Okay then." (scribble, scribble, scribble)

That was dumb I thought. But then I realized why I told him. It was because he was asking me what I felt like after a big "twitching" incident. And I told him I felt (and looked according to Tree) like I was 'coming down'. Then I had to explain what I was 'coming down' from. Thus, making it obvious that I had done meth at one time. However, it didn't seem to bother him or have any impact on what was happening now.

Next he started asking me to touch my nose, touch his finger, look up, down, left, right, etc. Then he was taking the mallet and testing my reflexes on my ankles, knees, and elbows. I told him that the way they jerk when he hits them, is (and feels like) just like the jerks or twitches I get. He said "Okay…hmmm."

Next, he opens the door and tells me to wait on the table while he gets some paperwork. He returns quickly with two pieces of paperwork. One, a list of blood work he needs me to have done. Two a form to take to the front to tell the receptionist how much to bill my insurance and to tell her to schedule me for an EEG and an MRI. He says to scedule a follow up after all that is done. Then he will discuss what he thinks is wrong with me.

Well, the EEG was Saturday morning. It was interesting. Of course the entire 30 minutes I was laying there, waiting for a twitch, it never happened. But toward the end, he had me close my eyes and he held a strobe light over my face and made it blink faster and faster each time, so the machine could register what happens. Well this made me twitch and jerk all over the place. I felt like I was about to seize, although I have never had a seizure "per se". I don't know how to explain it. It was nothing I have felt before. Then it was over. He removed the electrodes (or whatever they're called) from my head and I was left with this cement stuff in my hair, to drive home and wash my hair again!

Now the MRI. That was Wednesday the 10th. I had to drive WAY out to North Scottsdale for it. I never really saw a physician, just a tech that performs it. He was pretty cool though. I didn't have to remove everything and put on an embarrassing gown like I've had to do before. Just my bra and anything metal. So he leads me to the room, I lay down on this skinny table and he lays down this "cage" thing that covers my chest and head. I say cage because it had bars in front of my face. Thankfully I'm not clausterphobic at all. Then he gives me these gigantic headphones to place over my ears to block out the "hammering" noises from the machine. ( I had to wonder why I had to remove my bra because of the tiny underwire, but I could have this huge headset on made of metal and plastic…oh well) He was real nice and kept telling me how much longer I had to be still, and asking if I was okay. Then he had to inject "contrast" so they could get another reading. He was all worried that I was going to freak out. I told him I have no problem with needles. So it was cool. Supposedly it was supposed to make my mouth taste like metal, but it never did. Then like 15 more minutes of tests and it was over.

Because I am a freak and into medical things, I asked if I was allowed to see the images. He just looked at me for a second, and said "Uh….no." So either I have a gigantic tumor, or he was afraid of being sued for some reason. Either way, it sucked. I like looking at stuff. And when I had an MRI of my spine, the tech allowed me to see it, ask questions, etc. But that was in a small town. Things are surely different in the big city.

Enough for now. More to talk about (believe it or not) after the Rheumatologist appointment.

Verdict #2…to be determined.

So I made my appointment with the Neurologist today. I got extremely lucky and snagged an appointment tomorrow. That was because someone cancelled. The next available appointment was going to be May 30th. The other Neuro I had to choose from wasn't available until the first week in July! So hopefully this guy ( I think it is a male ) will be good and be able to tell me what the hell is causing these damned "seizures".

I am currently being weaned off Cymbalta, and will be totally off it by Wednesday. This is quite scary seeing as how I was contemplating suicide (or at least major bodily harm to myself since I don't believe in suicide as an answer to misery) after the Prozac stopped working and before I got on Cymbalta. I am trying to not take as much Tramadol either (at the advice of my doctor) but that is hard, because the Cymbalta helps with my pain as well. So this will be an interesting next week or two. My regular doctor is suggesting that I start Neurontin since it is to help with some pain and with seizures. We'll see what the Neuro says about it.

I have also called to make an appointment with the Rheum doc, but they are so big I guess that you have to leave your information on a machine and they are supposed to call you back and tell you when your appointment is. I have never had to do that before. I wonder when or if they will call me back? And, I wonder if I will even get in this month? Hopefully she can find a different medicine or something else to help with the pain. I was going to try accupuncture but maybe I should wait until I talk with those doctors first. What a mess. I'm terrified that I am going to end up like this total hypochondriac annoying mess at work that always talks about how she is on 16 medications, etc. I DO NOT want to end up like that.

The fucking twitches haven't stopped unfortunately, but I am on the road to finding out how to GET them to stop, so that's good. And so to avoid sounding like the Grunty in the last paragraph, I will stop complaining, and get outta here.