It's been a long, long few weeks.
Just before Sock Summit, late last July, I started having these headaches- awful, throbbing dull headbangers that would send me to bed for the afternoon. Stress, I figured, and blew it off. When the sight in my left eye started getting dimmer and dimmer each day, I blew that off, too, remembering a case of stress blindness I'd seen in school. No joke, it really happens. Also: no joke, I really can be that dumb.
When I got home and after more than a little prodding from Sam I went to the doctor, who sent me for the full workup- blood tests, ophthalmology, neurology, MRI, MRA, some other acronyms that I can't break out. It was all very stressful and what we learned, for the most part, is that I'm healthy as a horse- great blood pressure, low cholesterol, negative for the anti-phospholipid antibody syndrome that runs in my family. All good, except for the MRI. They found something thing on my MRI- the dreaded something– and started using some pretty scary terminology: terms like malignancy and astrocytoma and possible degenerative neurological disease, mainly.
Today we ruled out malignancy. Malignancy, in case you're a layman like myself, is one way to say tumor. Astrocytoma is the sort of tumor we ruled out. While the other option- multiple sclerosis- isn't great, it also won't kill me, and it doesn't involve chemotherapy or people cutting into my skull, either.
It's sort of funny- I'd dreaded the idea of an MS diagnosis up until the doctor said it could be a malignancy; now I'm pretty okay with the whole idea. Given the other option, it sounds just fine. Everything in perspective, I suppose. And I still don't have a firm diagnosis; the best I have is the training wheels diagnosis of probable multiple sclerosis, a small cache of meds and my neurologist's assurances that while he's pretty certain I can expect a big- girl diagnosis under my tree for Christmas, I should still be okay.
They're still performing tests, I'll be getting an MRI every few months for the foreseeable future, and there is still no hard diagnosis, but we're on our way. It's a process, they tell me, and as long as I get to keep my hair I guess I'm okay with that.