which was a movie by Ingmar Bergman about nocturnal sweats, a film I found profound and scary forty years ago, but about which I remember nothing now. Now is 4.a.m., Thursday, February 16, and this is the third time in 24 hours I've tried to write this blog--to let everyone know how I was doing and to thank everyone who has sent their best wishes to me.
But for much of the time, my mind has been mush and I've been in the hospital and for all of that time I've been unable to stay awake to finish a thought--orally or in writing. Last week, all of the "little things" (as opposed to the Big C) came together. I couldn't eat, or even swallow. My left ear had lost much of its hearing. I had strong pain in my jaw and leg. But most of all I couldn't stay awake. Mid-sentence, mid-mouthful, mid-laughter, I wasn't following, couldn't comprehend, and then wss sound asleep, Mohamed used to ask constantly about appointment--when, with whom, about what. I couldn't understand how he couldn't remember. Now he is charge of all of that. I ask several times a day whom we see the next day; I am incapable to remember. I know how frustrated her must get when the answer is no one--and still no one when I ask again six hours later. So early next week we headed to the ER. (He would say Monday; I would say Tuesday. Trust Mohamed.)
I spent four days and underwent every kind of test, several after only a few days since the last time: MRI (I'm getting better at these), CT scans, x-rays, and even a spinal tap. The results were the same, ruling out metastasis of the cancer to the brain but supplying no answer to what the causes were or whether there was a connection between all the little c symptoms and those of the cancer.
The weekend was quiet, relieved by a second opinion that it was not brain cancer, but with a set of what appeared to be self-evident symptoms of a stroke. When I tried to smile at Mohamed, only the right-hand side of my mouth responded I drooled out of the left hand 2/3 of mouth. My speech was blurry and difficult to understand, saddening for someone who was paid for taking for 45 years of his life. oI didn't stay in rhe hospital,, but I did get a diagnosis:. Bell Palsy.
Today, though I had better check with Mohamed, we'll see my GP's nurse, just to see how things are going, and the ENT doc,, my least favorite, probably to drill another drain in my eardrum and discharge the fluid there.
I've run out of steam. I'll do a cursory edit, and then more soon about what's next.
Thursday, February 16, 2017
Thursday, February 2, 2017
winter of our discontent; discontent of our winter
Tuesday we went back for another session of physical therapy on my neck. The therapist was the owner of the facility rather than the 20-question tech I usually have. The guy was really strong, and where he worked, it was a deep massage--almost painful. But he's afraid to work on the shoulder or on the back for fear of activating tumor cells, so although the therapy may help a little, it doesn't cover as much as I'd like. I've worn a neck brace several hours a day for over a month now. I can't turn my head, having to turn my whole body, slowly, instead. I'll do a few more sessions of therapy, but that should be enough.
I have kept thinking that as much running around in the car as we do, one of these days... And Tuesday was the day that a very elderly farmer decided to rear end us. I can't say he ran over to the scene of the accident, but he hurried as fast as he could because he didn't want us to file a police report. He was too late. He also was hoping he could convince the police that this was an old dent. The police weren't having any of his story. Luckily, no one was injured and the damage was minor, but a collision and the complications that follow weren't what we needed at that point. The police were efficient and courteous, and my earlier fears about what treatment Mohamed could expected were unfounded.
Yesterday, it was a time for a return visit to Topeka Ear, Nose, and Throat. Of all the doctors and facilities we have gone to over the last six years, this is our least favorite, and they are the least courteous. They always act as if we are an imposition and they don't really have time to finish a consultation with us but need to rush off to someone else. But my ear had continued to drain more than it should, and my hearing in the left ear was damaged. We had a new doctor, but the old ways continued. By now, the drain had come loose, so he just left it out. He vacuumed a lot of mushy stuff, and then suddenly just quit and said to come back in two weeks. It's still draining this morning. I have drops that soften the mess. But there's a bizarre feeling, and nothing much seems to have changed. None of the other doctors or specialists act concerned, and Mohamed was feeling extremely frustrated in that no one seemed interested in putting the pieces to all these problems together--if indeed they do.
After that unsatisfactory appointment, we killed time with a Heath Bar Blizzard from Dairy Queen (me, not my more virtuous partner) before heading to an appointment with Dr. Hashmi, just for a consultation. Weighing in, I had lost nearly 20 pounds. The last time I had such a result, the fault was with the scale; this time, my appearance indicates that I really have lost the weight. But as always, Dr. Hashmi was pleased as the tumors have not grown or found new homes. The primary cancer looked stable. And then we began going through all the small problems that have made my life difficult--from the runny ears (they're still running) to bone pains to a month-long stiff neck. We could adjust this, tinker with that. Was I depressed? We could add an anti-depressive. But I wasn't really all things considered, so we'll postpone that for a while.
Then I could see that Dr. Hashmi was getting ready to bring things to a close and that Mohamed wasn't prepared to do so yet. So he began asking more questions about how the pieces converged. Wasn't there a pattern to at lease some of the symptoms? And then Mohamed asked me to stick my tongue out, and we had an aha! moment. I have a deviated tongue, and try to treat this fact with some respect, not with snickering. And it's deviated to the left. As are all other ear, nose, and throat symptoms. I'm having trouble with too much saliva, and my speech is sometimes slurred. The most likely cause is a small stroke, or a series of strokes. (Having trouble speaking for someone who talked for a living is very strange.) More serious would be a metastasis of the cancer into the brain. But it does seem there is a connection between my brain and the scattered symptoms that have made the last few months so difficult. And just pressing, pressing your doctor as Mohamed did can finally pay off. Next Wednesday, I'll have a two-hour MRI on my brain and neck.
The revelation was obviously not good, yet in some ways it's good to know what's going on rather than just treading water in a slough of uncertainty.
I have kept thinking that as much running around in the car as we do, one of these days... And Tuesday was the day that a very elderly farmer decided to rear end us. I can't say he ran over to the scene of the accident, but he hurried as fast as he could because he didn't want us to file a police report. He was too late. He also was hoping he could convince the police that this was an old dent. The police weren't having any of his story. Luckily, no one was injured and the damage was minor, but a collision and the complications that follow weren't what we needed at that point. The police were efficient and courteous, and my earlier fears about what treatment Mohamed could expected were unfounded.
Yesterday, it was a time for a return visit to Topeka Ear, Nose, and Throat. Of all the doctors and facilities we have gone to over the last six years, this is our least favorite, and they are the least courteous. They always act as if we are an imposition and they don't really have time to finish a consultation with us but need to rush off to someone else. But my ear had continued to drain more than it should, and my hearing in the left ear was damaged. We had a new doctor, but the old ways continued. By now, the drain had come loose, so he just left it out. He vacuumed a lot of mushy stuff, and then suddenly just quit and said to come back in two weeks. It's still draining this morning. I have drops that soften the mess. But there's a bizarre feeling, and nothing much seems to have changed. None of the other doctors or specialists act concerned, and Mohamed was feeling extremely frustrated in that no one seemed interested in putting the pieces to all these problems together--if indeed they do.
After that unsatisfactory appointment, we killed time with a Heath Bar Blizzard from Dairy Queen (me, not my more virtuous partner) before heading to an appointment with Dr. Hashmi, just for a consultation. Weighing in, I had lost nearly 20 pounds. The last time I had such a result, the fault was with the scale; this time, my appearance indicates that I really have lost the weight. But as always, Dr. Hashmi was pleased as the tumors have not grown or found new homes. The primary cancer looked stable. And then we began going through all the small problems that have made my life difficult--from the runny ears (they're still running) to bone pains to a month-long stiff neck. We could adjust this, tinker with that. Was I depressed? We could add an anti-depressive. But I wasn't really all things considered, so we'll postpone that for a while.
Then I could see that Dr. Hashmi was getting ready to bring things to a close and that Mohamed wasn't prepared to do so yet. So he began asking more questions about how the pieces converged. Wasn't there a pattern to at lease some of the symptoms? And then Mohamed asked me to stick my tongue out, and we had an aha! moment. I have a deviated tongue, and try to treat this fact with some respect, not with snickering. And it's deviated to the left. As are all other ear, nose, and throat symptoms. I'm having trouble with too much saliva, and my speech is sometimes slurred. The most likely cause is a small stroke, or a series of strokes. (Having trouble speaking for someone who talked for a living is very strange.) More serious would be a metastasis of the cancer into the brain. But it does seem there is a connection between my brain and the scattered symptoms that have made the last few months so difficult. And just pressing, pressing your doctor as Mohamed did can finally pay off. Next Wednesday, I'll have a two-hour MRI on my brain and neck.
The revelation was obviously not good, yet in some ways it's good to know what's going on rather than just treading water in a slough of uncertainty.
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