I just got this book. Talk about timing!
Never again will I tell Collin to go on ahead and order the food. Every time he does, something goes wrong.
Yesterday, I had what was supposed to be a routine appointment with my primary care doctor. Just following up, making sure all the meds have been doing their job, stuff like that. I expected to be in and out in no more than twenty minutes. Dr. B. was running a little behind, so I suggested Collin go on to Boston Market and order our lunch and I would meet him there. They had a special deal that day: do the chicken dance for a free cookie. I was going to do the chicken dance--but I never got there. I ended up eating my lunch for dinner after we got home. What really bites is that Collin did the dance, and they got a video of it. I missed that, too.
I had mentioned to Dr. B. that I had been having some speech problems the day before (now that I think about it, it actually started before that, maybe a week before). I'd know what I wanted to say, but the words that came out had to fight their way out. Collin says I've mastered Minionese!
Anyway, Dr. B. wanted an immediate CT scan of my brain. This is not exactly unusual. My brain has been viewed more often than I Love Lucy reruns. I was diagnosed epileptic after a head injury when I was a teenager. I tried to get her to let me wait an hour so I could go eat my lunch while it was still hot and maybe, just maybe, get my turn at the Chicken Dance. No go. She told me she would cart my sorry butt over to the hospital across the street herself. Not in those exact words, of course, but...
Normally, if anyone pushed me like that, I'd call their bluff. But I knew better than to mess with Dr. B. I've had two other doctors in my life--Dr. P. and Dr. Z.--who were tough like that, and they were both first-rate physicians. Dr. B's determination to make me do the right thing made me respect her even more than I already did. So I texted Collin and told him to meet me there.
So the CT scan was done and I finally got something to eat at the hospital cafeteria: a slice of pizza and an apple dumpling. Brain food of champions. Fortunately, our dear friend Cathy works fairly close to the hospital, so I texted her and she came after work to take us home. I got a CD of my CT as soon as they finished, and Collin and I viewed it last night. Neither of us is by any means qualified to read them, but they're still interesting to look at. The black spot on one side of my brain was a little ominous, like an ugly little storm cloud about to rain on my parade.
I got the official report from Dr. B. She says there's a decreased blood flow to one area in the left side of my brain. This came as a surprise. I didn't think I still had a left brain. My right brain is a bully. It beats up the left brain and takes over the neighborhood. A few words in the radiologist's report jumped out at me: acute cerebral infarction. In other words, a stroke. Strokes killed my mother--and she was two years older than me when she had the first big one. I have to have an MRI to confirm it, but still....
Okay, God--you have my attention. Time to grow up.
Do I have to?
I choose to look at the bright side. If my speech issues are permanent, I now have the perfect excuse for not talking on the phone....