Unremarkable

The MRI says my brian is "unremarkable". We could have told you that.

Yes, once again I had a procedure that told me absolutely nothing about what is going on with me. I suppose I should be happy that this process of elimination is helping me to find the real problem, but this morning when doctor’s office called they pretty much said that after the nerve conduction testing next month, there is nothing more they have to offer. Great. Now I have another month and a half of falling down before going through more testing that will most likely have “inconclusive” results.

Coincidentally the night before the test I watched a bad movie where a running joke was one of the characters trying to break into the recording industry by composing House Music. The music was truly awful but was considered greatly improved when a nearly-dead man in his apartment started tapping a single note over and over on the composer’s keyboard. It turns out that MRI’s sound just like that awful House Music! It was all I could do to keep from laughing as that single repeating note kept being blasted through the tube to the counterpoint of musical sounds the machine made. (If you haven’t had an MRI, they are very musical. They don’t just make the ka-chunk, ka-chunk sound shown in TV medical dramas.)

I have a friend who has been very supportive and keeps encouraging me saying that it’s not that nothing is wrong with me but that the doctors haven’t found anything because they aren’t asking the right questions. In the meantime, my technical diagnosis still remains “bull sh*t lying hypochondriac bit*h”.

Oh my gosh, would you quit yammering about yourself already and tell a story about me?!?

Next time, puppy.

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28 Comments

  1. You have all my sympathy. My husband went through any number of examinations which found supposedly nothing….then he was lucky enough to fall on a Soutg African doctor practising inLondon who told him what he had in a jiffy by watching him walk.

      • Sure. He had had all sorts of diagnoses, and a time in the national hospital for neurological diseases with no conclusions, then heard of a specialist working privately in Harley Street who had come in from South Africa. The chap asked him to walk across the room and from that alone diagnosed him as having Miller Fisher…a variant of Guillain-Barre syndrome. With G-B you have one attack only and you recover or die, with M-F you have recurrent attacks with the same outcomes. At that time two treatment protocols were available…plasmapheresis or cortisone. Unfortunately they tried cortisone – as being less intrusive – and it sent him into a coma. Recovery was slow. After that he had plasmapheresis every few months, which did not altogether do away with attacks, but made them less dangerous. Later the diagnosis was changed to CANOMAD – another manifestation of G-B, linked to the production of over large red blood corpuscles.
        It is thought his condition was linked to multiple vaccinations when travelling in Africa, and the result is that to avoid an attack he must have no vaccinations of any sort, and to isolate whenever a ‘flu is in the area as that will inevitably start off an attack. Luckily the health service here is tops….he feels an attack coming on, goes to the local hospital who send him to the major hospital in an ambulance where the ward is set up for treatment. Five cycles of plasma over five days and he is fit to return home.
        I think it all comes down to dropping on the right doctor….but how the blazes you are supposed to know which one is any good is beyond me.

  4. I’ll be having an MRI on Monday – should I bring earbuds and try to listen to a book? I don’t think my doctor and PT are listening to me either, and I’m seriously tired of being in pain. Wanna go whine together over a few adult beverages? I’d offer to pick you up if you fall down but my back is effed up. 🙂

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