Lesions And Masses And Shakes -- OH MY!

 08 April 2022

Story #1067

R. Linda:

While you wake up in strange places, I be reading medical mumbo jumbo on Google and scaring the hell out of meself. 

Let me say, for one, I can't imagine sleeping with an oxygen setup every night and hoping the thing won't come off in me sleep. I don't know how you have managed all this time. But those rare occasions of going to sleep and the setup coming off, leaving you unconscious and waking up in an ER . . . well, I just can't imagine the scare your daughter gets when that happens, and worse, what you are thinking waking up someplace other than your own cosy bed. I should have Amazon send you a large box of surgical tape so you can tape your face really well so that doesn't happen again. Only getting that tape off . . . OUCH! So I won't do that and will hope whatever you are doing to keep the oxygen flowing is working. 

Meanwhile, as you know, I've had some problems of me own. I thought I was coming down with Parkinson's because suddenly, I got all wobbly. When I sat down, me right leg would take on a life of its own and shake up and down. When I tried to put on my wristwatch, the leg would get going, so I couldn't do it. I had been tripping over me big feet as well and almost losing me balance a few times, but catching meself to stay upright. This became so noticeable to Tonya that she made an appointment for me at the medical centre. I had a couple of falls, you will remember, and I thought I had broken me nose and sported black and blue eyes for a couple of weeks. But that was a bit ago, so I didn't give it much thought, as I felt fine.

I went to doctors, and they checked me over, did blood tests (nothing showed), and decided me equilibrium was out of whack somehow. This was remedied by sending me to physical therapy for a month for balance training. It helped, but they weren't finished with me. They wondered if I had suffered a brain bleed from that last fall flat on me face and sent me for an MRI. Well, R. Linda, THAT was an experience!

I have seen medical shows where someone is inside the machine, and they look like they are asleep, and nothing bothers them as the machine chugs and takes its pictures. No, not like that at all! When I got to the hospital MRI room, Nurse Mindy instantly took a dislike to me (I don't know why, and I did not care). Anyway, she told me I'd have to take me trousers off because of the metal zipper and put on paper pants that looked like someone made sweatpants out of a paper bag. I did this, and I was looking at the lockers in the changing room, but there were no keys, so I came out to her and asked what to do with the trousers. She told me to leave them on the chair in the changing room. Well, ok. I noticed other people going to the changing room with keys, and each one stopped and looked down at me, neatly folded trousers on the one chair in the room. I knew then this was not right, but before I could say anything, I was being led to the MRI. I was told there would be loud sounds coming from the machine, and I'd get earplugs and headphones which would play any music I liked. I said, "Anything but country," I requested. Nurse Mindy made a note, and I was set. 

Then I was told to lie down, and she and the MRI tech put this thing over me face with a mirror, informing me it was so I could look up into the mirror and see outside the window behind the machine. The only problem with that was after they started the procedure, I realised the window blinds were closed, and there was no seeing out. In addition to this, the music they pumped in was country music! I hate country music! And there was some woman's voice, scratchy as a cat twanging about a lost love, and this went on for the full 30 minutes of listening to the machine's loud noises. I felt like I was tied to the stage of the Blue Man Group, listening to a twang of a guitar string being held for an unbelievable amount of time and drumming the rat-a-tat-tat in various beats blaring through me so I could not go to that "favourite place" the technician told me to try to imagine. 

I felt shell-shocked when it was over. I could still hear the beats ringing in me ears. Was I dizzy? They asked before helping me up. No, just thought me hearing was gone. Oi! I was told to go change after they took the IV out of my arm. As I was finishing up, I noticed I was bleeding like a stuck pig and went out in the hall, but no one was around. There I stood, blood flowing, trying to keep it off me clothing and looking for something to staunch it with. As I was fumbling around, the techie came out of the MRI room, saw me, and ran over. She took me into a small room where she stopped the bleeding and reapplied another piece of surgical tape over the cotton square she doubled into a blood stopper. I thought if I wasn't dizzy before, I should be now with the amount of blood I just dumped. 

That night, I went home, and I got an email my results were in. I was like ok, so I went to me medical chart online and there it said, "Possible melanoma, lymphoma. Lesion behind the eye." As you can imagine, I was taken aback and in denial that this was wrong; this was someone else's chart. But no, it had my name and particulars. 

Stupidly, I Googled the info to learn, to me horror, the repercussions of having such conditions. Therefore, I had two days to fret over the results before I saw me doctor. When I got there, she was not happy with the results either, and neither of us could think what I did to have a mass grow behind my eye. Notta. She ordered a CT Scan the following week to examine the bone since the MRI did the soft tissue imaging. Oh boy. At least it didn't adhere to me brain! But bone be just as bad, so I would live with that now. 

For a week, I lived in dread, and finally, the day for the CT Scan came. Unlike the technician at the MRI, the CT Scan techie was a cheery sort who instantly made me feel comfortable. That scan took five minutes, and Bob's your uncle, done! No loud drumming sounds, no country music, for that matter, no need for headphones. The technician was still cheery and joking with me, which made me think whatever was on the scan wasn't as frightening as it could be, but I didn't know, and she wasn't about to tell me.

I visited the eye surgeon yesterday. Tonya had decided to go with me because she was as anxious as I was about what was happening with me. The office was in the north end of Manchester, in a beautiful Victorian, me wife was all agog over. The inside was chopped up into offices and waiting rooms, and some of the original interiour features were still intact. While Tonya was admiring what was left of a once fine old home, I was taken by a techie for more tests. These were completed, and I was put in a room to await the surgeon. I asked for my wife to be there, and she was brought in and sitting opposite me by the wall. The door was open to the room, and I could be seen by anyone in the hallway. Well, because we were waiting a bit, Tonya and I were engaged in animated conversation and out in the hallway, five techies had gathered to talk. Suddenly, I noticed the hall had gone quiet, and they were all looking at yours truly. 

They thought I was talking to meself or the wall! They had no clue another person was in there with me, so I looked the crazy loon, I be sure. This started me laughing, and they scattered like birds at the sight of a cat. Shortly after, the good doctor came in, and by this time, I was very stressed because I thought all the test results weren't good. He was trying to find a way to break it to me that I had cancer and needed a major operation, and I may lose me eyesight, etc., all dreadful thoughts that race through one's mind when anxious.

Tonya immediately asked about the mass, and he said, "We'll get to that, but first, I have a few questions." Uh-oh. He asked me all sorts of things pertaining to falls, injuries, and any issues I had noticed, and me being stressed told him all I could think of that might have led up to a head injury (which wasn't much), and I told him I had excellent eye care until . . . wait for it . . . I came to live in New Hampshire. Yes, I did, I said that. I heard it come out of me mouth and couldn't help meself. His eyes and the eyes of his assistant had grown large at that remark, and Tonya looked aghast. I threw up me hands, not knowing what else to say I wouldn't make it worse. 

He then caught hold of himself and cleared his throat. "You have what looks like a large blood vessel that burst behind your eye," and quick to head off, my reaction said, "This mass is usually benign."

Okay, I let out a long breath, as did Tonya, and she tentatively smiled, trying to hide her relief from me. The prognosis? We need to watch that the mass doesn't get larger, and how do we do that? Oh, me gosh, another MRI in six months! 

So here I be, having had me first real night of good sleep and trying to shake off the dreadful feelings of the past month. Me eyes are blurry after all the drops yesterday, and I be hoping that's it and nothing more. 

There is no sign of Parkinson's or any other balance conditions. Now, the blame seems to be on the inner ear fluid. Me and the earth are out of alignment.

Gabe

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