I left work early and headed to the clinic for my cervical spine MRI. After completing my paperwork, I settled into the waiting room, hoping to get through a few pages of the book I was supposed to have read for school. Unfortunately, I was paired in the waiting room with a couple of very talkative older men. I politely smiled to their comments and responded shortly to their questions. I was not in a talkative mood. The nurse called my name and I anxiously gathered my belongings and limped after her.
The MRI was highly uncomfortable. My claustrophobia caught up with me as I lay in the tight dark tunnel trying to block out the sounds of machinery around me. I closed my eyes and kept them closed through the entire duration. My breathing quickened and it took every bit of concentration I had to keep from hyperventilating. "Krista, you need to hold very still, please," the radiologist's voice came through the intercom system. "Ok," I choked out quickly. Apparently my breathing was altering my image. When the radiologist informed me that I was done, I couldn't get out of that tunnel fast enough.
I pulled in my driveway, she called me back. Apparently the radiologist sees some kind of lesion on my spine or spinal cord (I can’t remember which) and he thinks that’s what’s causing this. She was vague about what it could be, but she knows me well enough to tell me that "it could be nothing" over and over again... yet, she still told me that she had called the neurologist, sent her the results, and the neurologist was going to try to see me tomorrow instead of Monday.
She said that until then, I "grit my teeth and bare it."
So now, I get to sit alone and think of all the horrible things that it could be (and the things that it could be that are not so horrible) and wonder how the hell I’m going to get any of my reading and homework done when my mind is so out of it that I can’t do anything.
I’m tempted to get a bottle and order a pizza and drown my worries.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
The ball starts rolling.
It had started in L.A. with my shoulder and neck. It was a strange numbness that just slowly spread down my neck and shoulder into my arm and fingers. My girlfriends were concerned and nearly took me to the Emergency Room to get checked out while we were on our trip. I convinced that that it was nothing and that there was no need to ruin our trip with doctors and hospitals. "I'll go as soon as I get back to Utah," I reassured them.
As soon as I got back from L.A. after Spring Break, I called the doctor to get in. The strange spreading numbness was now accompanied by a very recognizable delirium. On my trip, I had attributed the delirium and exhaustion from late nights and heavy drinking. When the feeling never left me, I was worried. I was anxious to figure out what it was, and more importantly to make it go away.
The doctor got me in that Monday and she put me on some new antibiotics-- Prednisone-- to see if it could cut back on some inflammation if that’s what it was. She assumed it was a strange complications of the shingles I was sure I had before the trip. I had seen her before we left to get antibiotics for it. She scheduled an appointment for me to meet with the neurologist, but was only able to get me in on April 7, 2008. She said it would work for now. The date seemed way too far off to be comforting. It was March 24. April 7 was 2 weeks away! However, she told me that if it didn’t work, I was supposed to call her back on Wednesday.
It didn’t work.
The numbness spread into my leg, causing an uncomfortable limp as I attempted to walk with a leg that was essentially "asleep." It was only on my left side, but it was uncomfortable. I wanted it gone. I called the doctor back.
She went into motion immediately. Suddenly, my appointment with the neurologist was to take place on Monday, rather than the 7th of April. She called me back about 15 minutes later and told me that she wanted me to have an MRI that day. She asked if there was a specific time that worked best for me. I was at work, so either way I would have to leave. I was anxious to figure out why the left side of my body was "dying." She scheduled my MRI for 3:15 p.m that day. I called my parents' house to report what I had found out. My sister volunteered to go with me. Andrew had left that morning for Virginia for his Print Conference for school. I told her there was no need-- I had accompanied Andrew to many such appointments and they were uneventful-- she would have to stay in the waiting room anyway. She told me to call her if I changed my mind. I thanked her and told her I'd be fine.
I would be fine. I was sure it was just some sort of weird chemical imbalance or something nutritional-related, perhaps. It was nothing.
It had to be nothing.
As soon as I got back from L.A. after Spring Break, I called the doctor to get in. The strange spreading numbness was now accompanied by a very recognizable delirium. On my trip, I had attributed the delirium and exhaustion from late nights and heavy drinking. When the feeling never left me, I was worried. I was anxious to figure out what it was, and more importantly to make it go away.
The doctor got me in that Monday and she put me on some new antibiotics-- Prednisone-- to see if it could cut back on some inflammation if that’s what it was. She assumed it was a strange complications of the shingles I was sure I had before the trip. I had seen her before we left to get antibiotics for it. She scheduled an appointment for me to meet with the neurologist, but was only able to get me in on April 7, 2008. She said it would work for now. The date seemed way too far off to be comforting. It was March 24. April 7 was 2 weeks away! However, she told me that if it didn’t work, I was supposed to call her back on Wednesday.
It didn’t work.
The numbness spread into my leg, causing an uncomfortable limp as I attempted to walk with a leg that was essentially "asleep." It was only on my left side, but it was uncomfortable. I wanted it gone. I called the doctor back.
She went into motion immediately. Suddenly, my appointment with the neurologist was to take place on Monday, rather than the 7th of April. She called me back about 15 minutes later and told me that she wanted me to have an MRI that day. She asked if there was a specific time that worked best for me. I was at work, so either way I would have to leave. I was anxious to figure out why the left side of my body was "dying." She scheduled my MRI for 3:15 p.m that day. I called my parents' house to report what I had found out. My sister volunteered to go with me. Andrew had left that morning for Virginia for his Print Conference for school. I told her there was no need-- I had accompanied Andrew to many such appointments and they were uneventful-- she would have to stay in the waiting room anyway. She told me to call her if I changed my mind. I thanked her and told her I'd be fine.
I would be fine. I was sure it was just some sort of weird chemical imbalance or something nutritional-related, perhaps. It was nothing.
It had to be nothing.
Breathe. Just breathe.
"Krista? This is Dr. Banks. I've got your test results here. Your Brain MRI shows that there are some abnormalities in your brain in an area that is indicative of Multiple Sclerosis. I can see 2-3 lesions similar to the one on your spinal cord. I'd like for you to see me first thing next week. At that time we can talk about treating your symptoms now, as well as talk about some long term treatment options available for M.S. Could you call my office first thing on Monday morning?" I held the phone to my ear and stared blankly out my office window. My eyes watered up, but I fought them back. I wouldn't let myself cry. Not here. Not now.
"That should be fine," I answered. The call ended.
I sat and stared out the window for what felt like several minutes. It's not possible, I thought to myself. This shit doesn't happen. It can't be possible, I tried to comfort myself. Pressure was building behind my eyes and I knew that I couldn't possibly face the world any longer today. I tried to gather myself and force my tears back a little further to give me time for a clean break from work. But first, I knew I needed to spread the word. My mom was probably aching to call and ask if I'd heard anything.
I couldn't talk to anyone at the moment. The tears were too close, and the setting just not right. I decided to send a text message: "Doc called. Scans showed 3 lesions in brain. Looks like MS. Don't call me yet." I sent it to my mom, my dad, Andrew's mom, and my sisters. Then sat, wiping tears that had managed to sneak past my barrier. I had to get out of there. I had to get home. I waited a few minutes, gathered my things, and took a deep breath. I didn't want Brian to see me cry. I walked by his office and said, "I'm leaving for the day, I'll see you on Monday." He looked at me with pained eyes. He knew something wasn't right. I was happy he didn't ask. He just said, "Ok. You take care of yourself and get better. I'll see you on Monday." I nodded and forced a smile and began walking down the stairs to escape. Each step brought the tears closer to the surface. I put my sunglasses on, knowing I couldn't hold back much longer. By the time I reached the last couple stairs, the tears were pouring down my face. I walked down the alley to the parking lot seeking the solace of my car. I hoped no one was in the parking lot. The lady from the café downstairs was unloading things from her car.
"Hi, how are you?" she asked cheerfully.
I once again choked back the tears that had already taken a hold of me. "I'm doing alright, thanks, how are you?" I did a terrible job of hiding the emotion in my voice. I didn't sound convincing.
"I'm doing good," she answered, "Do you work every Saturday?"
Great, I thought, she wants a full conversation. "Pretty much," I responded, "I take Tuesdays and Thursdays off for school, so I work on Saturdays to make up for it."
"Well that explains why I see you around here so much on the weekends!"
I laughed a forced laugh, "Yeah... have a good one!" I answered back, abruptly ending the conversation as I reached my car.
I turned the ignition and the tears returned with force. The drive home was a blur of sobbing and hitting the steering wheel. When I pulled into my driveway, I once again gathered myself and hoped no one would be outside. I hurried to the door of my empty house, opened the door and let myself in. I closed the door, turned and slid down the inside of the door to the floor. There was no need to hide the sobbing now. It came with force. I sat sobbing against the door for a few minutes, completely oblivious to anything and everything around me. This was my moment. My moment to be angry, devastated, and alone. I took it.
This can't be happening to me.
This shit doesn't happen.
It was surreal.
I had spent so much time convincing myself that I could not have Multiple Sclerosis. I was certain.
And now... I was wrong.
"That should be fine," I answered. The call ended.
I sat and stared out the window for what felt like several minutes. It's not possible, I thought to myself. This shit doesn't happen. It can't be possible, I tried to comfort myself. Pressure was building behind my eyes and I knew that I couldn't possibly face the world any longer today. I tried to gather myself and force my tears back a little further to give me time for a clean break from work. But first, I knew I needed to spread the word. My mom was probably aching to call and ask if I'd heard anything.
I couldn't talk to anyone at the moment. The tears were too close, and the setting just not right. I decided to send a text message: "Doc called. Scans showed 3 lesions in brain. Looks like MS. Don't call me yet." I sent it to my mom, my dad, Andrew's mom, and my sisters. Then sat, wiping tears that had managed to sneak past my barrier. I had to get out of there. I had to get home. I waited a few minutes, gathered my things, and took a deep breath. I didn't want Brian to see me cry. I walked by his office and said, "I'm leaving for the day, I'll see you on Monday." He looked at me with pained eyes. He knew something wasn't right. I was happy he didn't ask. He just said, "Ok. You take care of yourself and get better. I'll see you on Monday." I nodded and forced a smile and began walking down the stairs to escape. Each step brought the tears closer to the surface. I put my sunglasses on, knowing I couldn't hold back much longer. By the time I reached the last couple stairs, the tears were pouring down my face. I walked down the alley to the parking lot seeking the solace of my car. I hoped no one was in the parking lot. The lady from the café downstairs was unloading things from her car.
"Hi, how are you?" she asked cheerfully.
I once again choked back the tears that had already taken a hold of me. "I'm doing alright, thanks, how are you?" I did a terrible job of hiding the emotion in my voice. I didn't sound convincing.
"I'm doing good," she answered, "Do you work every Saturday?"
Great, I thought, she wants a full conversation. "Pretty much," I responded, "I take Tuesdays and Thursdays off for school, so I work on Saturdays to make up for it."
"Well that explains why I see you around here so much on the weekends!"
I laughed a forced laugh, "Yeah... have a good one!" I answered back, abruptly ending the conversation as I reached my car.
I turned the ignition and the tears returned with force. The drive home was a blur of sobbing and hitting the steering wheel. When I pulled into my driveway, I once again gathered myself and hoped no one would be outside. I hurried to the door of my empty house, opened the door and let myself in. I closed the door, turned and slid down the inside of the door to the floor. There was no need to hide the sobbing now. It came with force. I sat sobbing against the door for a few minutes, completely oblivious to anything and everything around me. This was my moment. My moment to be angry, devastated, and alone. I took it.
This can't be happening to me.
This shit doesn't happen.
It was surreal.
I had spent so much time convincing myself that I could not have Multiple Sclerosis. I was certain.
And now... I was wrong.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Not it.
"You know who else has M.S?" My mother intended to continue on with a string of people in the neighborhood that I knew who were living with the disease. I almost laughed.
"I don't have M.S., Mom."
"Yeah, I know... but still." She sounded unsure, like she was still trying to convince herself. We continued the drive toward my house in near silence. I stared out the window or rested my eyes. My body ached and my mind was reeling with all I had to do. Spring break had passed and school was charging forward, with or without me.
It was Saturday and I was supposed to be at work. I had called my boss, Brian, to let him know that I was having more tests run that morning and would be in when I was finished. Now I was wishing I had told him I wasn't coming in at all.
I got home and emptied my belongings from my mother's car. She had insisted I bring my laundry to do at her house over the weekend... I never did get to it. After she left, I took a few moments to myself to relax and be alone. With the past week's events, it was much needed. I pulled myself from my daze and headed to work.
The work day was long. The doctor was on-call at the hospital and had promised to call me as soon as she reviewed my MRI from that morning. The order even said, "Page Dr. Banks STAT with results." I sat working quietly in my office with my phone nearby in case she called. I tried not to think about it. I tried to convince myself that it was some kind of fluke-- maybe dietary-- maybe it could be something stupid like my potassium level or B12 level. It had to be something embarrassingly stupid.
At about 2:30, the phone rang. My heart skipped a beat. The number was unfamiliar.
It had to be the doctor.
"I don't have M.S., Mom."
"Yeah, I know... but still." She sounded unsure, like she was still trying to convince herself. We continued the drive toward my house in near silence. I stared out the window or rested my eyes. My body ached and my mind was reeling with all I had to do. Spring break had passed and school was charging forward, with or without me.
It was Saturday and I was supposed to be at work. I had called my boss, Brian, to let him know that I was having more tests run that morning and would be in when I was finished. Now I was wishing I had told him I wasn't coming in at all.
I got home and emptied my belongings from my mother's car. She had insisted I bring my laundry to do at her house over the weekend... I never did get to it. After she left, I took a few moments to myself to relax and be alone. With the past week's events, it was much needed. I pulled myself from my daze and headed to work.
The work day was long. The doctor was on-call at the hospital and had promised to call me as soon as she reviewed my MRI from that morning. The order even said, "Page Dr. Banks STAT with results." I sat working quietly in my office with my phone nearby in case she called. I tried not to think about it. I tried to convince myself that it was some kind of fluke-- maybe dietary-- maybe it could be something stupid like my potassium level or B12 level. It had to be something embarrassingly stupid.
At about 2:30, the phone rang. My heart skipped a beat. The number was unfamiliar.
It had to be the doctor.
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