Today was my bi-annual neurologist appointment. After answering my usual page worth of questions that I have thought of in between visits, my doctor proceeds with the normal exam....
Follow my finger, look at my nose - can you see my fingers moving (as he moves them almost out of my peripheral vision), squeeze my fingers, pull my arms, and my least favorite, touch my finger - your nose - then my finger again.
I hate that one because if I've had caffeine that day, my finger shakes and he will say with glee, "uh oh, you have a tremor - we need to watch that." No doc, I just have a Diet Coke addiction.... I purposefully didn't have a soda at lunch and breezed through the routine with no tremor. I notice him frowning. I then have to do the drunk walk - walk a straight line, heel to toe. "Your balance is perfect," he begrudgingly remarks and then he pulls out the reflex hammer and I know what's coming. Before I was diagnosed, KC used to hit my knee and laugh hysterically because it would go flying. We couldn't go anywhere in the car without him doing it to me so when the doctor taps my knees, I notice KC watching longingly. My legs kick out wildly, as usual. "That's the MS," he says cheerfully. Yeah, I know; I guilted KC into not tapping my knees five appointments ago, when you first told me. Poor Kase, those days are gone, buddy.
We discuss when my next MRI should be and he sadly remarks that I've been flare-free for almost three years and don't need another one for at least two more years, "unless you have another flare sooner," he says hopefully. But then he sighs and adds, "Other than your reflexes, you are completely without symptoms." Why the disappointment, doc? I want to tell him that sometimes there are days that I actually even forget I have MS but instead I feel obliged to say, "I know, I feel great but I worry there is a flare coming around the corner." He perks up. "You're probably right," he replies. But then, he adds the obligatory, "but things look really good, so you could go for a long time without having one." I swear I heard him say under his breath, "but it's doubtful." Let's just order the wheelchair now.
After the appointment, KC and I debrief. Strangely, he didn't see the appointment transpire that way. "Great news, huh? Let's go celebrate." So glad he surprised me by showing up at the appointment or I'd have come home and crawled into bed. The appointment really did go well, but I won't be satisfied until he tells me I'm cured or at least, don't ever have to worry about another flare. I think KC knows that and that's why he showed up. So instead of crawling into bed, I went to the Cheesecake Factory with my family. I liked that so much better. Besides, my birthday is in two days so there will be plenty of time for crawling into bed with the covers over my head in full-on pity party mode.
Pepper and Pals: Musings from an ordinary woman with a job, husband, teenagers, animals and opinions.
