Adventures in Diagnosis

Here I am, blogging about me again. Yes, most of my blog posts, and guest blogs, tend to use the word “I” a lot. There is a reason for it. You see, I can’t really claim to be an authority on anything. All I can offer is my own perspective and experience. Therefore, my posts tend to sound either intimate, or egomaniacal, depending on your viewpoint.

 This blog will, once again, be about me. Hopefully it will entertain you, or inform you, or a little of both. It’s about my recent adventures with my health.

 Like most people, I don’t look into things too deeply unless they affect me, or those I love. In the past few days I’ve learned something new, that without my personal run-in with it, I’d have never given a second thought to. So! On with the adventures!

 Last Saturday night, I had a little get-together with some friends, to celebrate the recent release of my first full-length novel. Those  invited were long-time friends who’d agreed to beta read for me, and they'd come to catch up and pick up their signed, print copies of the book. We had a lovely potluck barbeque and a few drinks. One of these friends, knowing my love of dry red wines, brought a rather large bottle of Wolf Blass , Yellow label, Cabernet/Sauvignon. It didn’t take much to convince me to sample a glass or two. Lol

About 9 pm that evening, I started to feel the beginnings of a headache. Of course I blamed it on the wine, not being anywhere near the drinker I'd been in years past. When I woke with a mild migraine the next morning, I assumed it was the wine, as well. I was a bit suspicious, though, since I’d only had the two glasses. I even joked, on Facebook, about what a “lightweight” I’d become.

When the migraine intensified, I looked for other sources for my discomfort. The weather gave me a ready scape-goat. Low pressure and impending thunderstorms often bring migraines home, so I prayed for rain.

The migraine persisted through Monday with pockets of relief from Advil and the occasional downpour. I considered performing a rain-dance in the front yard, but decided against frightening the neighbours with my dubious dancing skills.

Tuesday, feeling some relief from the migraine, I settled down to get some writing done. Later in the evening I posted this Facebook status: “Writing and nibbling on my new, favourite snack. Dill pickle flavoured, roasted, pumpkin seeds. I can't stop eating them, even though I can no longer feel my tongue! I CAN feel my arteries hardening from all the salt, though. I may need an intervention. Someone bring chocolate!”

That night, the migraine returned, but it was different. Where my migraines are usually in the temples and crown of my head, this one was concentrated below and behind my right ear. When the pain was at its peak, I wanted to sleep, and when it ebbed I’d start to feel nauseous.
Normally the nausea is synchronized to the pain, and my body only wants to shut down when both are at their height. The weather had been clear that day, so low pressure could no longer be blamed, and my normal womanly cycle was at the furthest point from being the cause, as well. As I brushed my teeth for bed, I discovered I could no longer “spit”. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t touch another pumpkin seed for a whole week! Okay, so two whole days. Lol. 
 
On Wednesday morning, I woke with the migraine again. It took some time to realize that my mouth still wasn’t cooperating. I had children to feed and dress, practicing for the start of school in a few days. Once I had them settled in, I tried to brush my teeth again.

Now, I’m not one to spend long in front of a mirror. I hardly ever wear makeup, and there are days that the children keep me so busy, brushing my teeth is all I get accomplished before I dive into my day. This morning was different. When it dawned on me that my mouth wasn’t working, I decided to inspect the rest of my face in the mirror. The entire right side of my face was frozen! My tongue was still numb, and I couldn’t get the right corner of my mouth to so much as twitch. When I attempted to wink my right eye, the left side of my face contorted into something that looked like a constipated gorilla, attempting to relieve itself. Crude, I know, but I really can’t think of a more apt description. I laughed at myself and suddenly had a horrible day-mare of being possessed by former Prime Minister Jean Chretien. I had to remind myself that the man is still very much alive and well. Besides, his spirit would be too busy haunting Parliament, when his time came, to be bothered with little ol’ me. My new face. Kinda scary, isn't it? I called my family doctor for advice, told her my symptoms, knowing what the receptionist would say when she returned to the phone. “Get to Emergency, NOW!”

I called my husband at work, 45 minutes away, and rang my neighbour to see if she was working. Hubby raced home, a bundle of nerves to help me pack the children into the car and drive me to the hospital. 

On the way, I contemplated the worst. Had I had a stroke? Was there a time-bomb sitting in my brain as we drove, waiting to go off? I tried to think positive, and engage my husband and children in conversation, to distract them from the mad thirty minute dash for the hospital. When we arrived, my 4yo daughter, (who hates the car and often gets carsick), had to go potty. I took her in to the bathroom, and back to the car, kissed my family goodbye, and walked into the hospital without looking back.

I must say, here, that I’m lucky to live near one of the best hospitals in the province of Ontario, as far as emergency services go. I was checked in and waiting to see the Clinical Decision Unit , (Yellow Zone), doctor, within forty minutes. Despite being one of the last to sit in the waiting area, a quick scan of my chart bumped me into second place to be seen. After a ten minute wait, I was directed to an exam area, by the first available doctor.

I’m ashamed to say, I can’t remember the doctor’s name, but I do remember him being young, fresh-faced and cheerful, as we discussed my symptoms. Somehow, we even ended up discussing my recent book release, and he took one of my bookmarks, promising to buy my book as a gift for his mother, whom he said was an avid reader. lol He set me up with an intravenous connection, took several vials of blood and asked for a urine sample, before sending me back into the waiting area.

I assume the first doctor was called into the Emergency proper, because a few minutes later I was summoned into another examination area where another doctor proceeded to ask me for the whole story. Again, I don’t remember his name, but this gentleman was a little more brusque in manner, all business and medicine. Now, don’t get me wrong, I completely understand the need for efficiency in a hospital overrun with patients. It was just such a contrast to the previous doctor, that it stunned me a little. People in Ontario know the reputation of the hospital and many drive an extra hour or two to get there, avoiding up to twelve hour wait times at their local facilities. I patiently recounted my story, and he nodded in all the right places and took notes, stopping me occasionally to ask pointed questions, before he took his leave. A nurse directed me to a “pod” then, to wait a little more.

Pods are new to the hospital. They are somewhat like the exam areas, with their shortened medical tables, but instead of tables, each holds six to eight waiting room chairs, with hooks behind each one, I assumed for coats and purses.

My assumption was proved wrong when a nurse approached me with my intravenous set-up; a bag of, (I presume), saline, and  two smaller bags of medication. She smiled and chuckled gently as she told me she was going to hook me to the wall, and apologized for the shortage of portable IV stands, as she hung the whole thing on the "coathook" behind me.  The nurse was young and friendly with a warm smile, openly chatting with the patients, and quick to get them anything they requested, within reason.

The first medication I was given was a dose of Benadryl , to help my body cope with the next medication they planned to administer. The Benadryl made me drowsy and a little tipsy, so I don’t remember the next medication very well, only that it started with the letters “Pleth”, it was to ease the pain of the migraine, and the nurse warned me that it might create a “flight response”. She asked me to warn her if I was feeling “antsy”.

“Ansty” was not the word for it! By halfway through the medication, I was ready to run a short marathon! I flagged the nurse down and asked to be disconnected to visit the ladies room. When I returned, I begged for a chance to take a little walk around the halls. Given permission, I walked out of the hospital, and all the way around the building, sneaking in a nasty cigarette while I did, before finally slinking back to my pod, praying the stink didn’t give me away. lol

By the time the migraine medication was ¾ empty, I wanted to peel off my own skin. I convinced my brain, and body, that sleep would help, and tried to find a comfortable position. The IV was making me feel positively frigid, but in my anxiousness not to be a PITA patient, I turned down a warmed blanket and the proffered pillow, electing instead to curl into foetal position in the chair, lay my head on my arm and pray I didn’t slip out and land on my backside, yanking out the IV in the process. The delusions of the medicated mind. Lol

It took the nurse some effort to wake me. It wasn’t until she slapped my forearm and called out my entire name that I snapped upright in the chair, yelling, “Yeah, Ma, I’m up!” The other patients in the pod found this immensely entertaining, and I smiled in response. The resulting
grimace must have scared them into silence, as only half of my face participated. Lol

Somehow I'd gotten one of my feet tucked up underneath me, and the other hooked around the arm of the chair, while I slept. Once I'd untangled myself and shaken off the pins'n'needles in the foot under me, I was escorted to another exam area. The second doctor I'd seen was waiting. He fired a few questions at me, and my groggy brain struggled to come up with answers. One of the questions was, “Is the migraine gone?”

“Um, well, the pain isn’t just behind my ear anymore. Now it’s kinda all over, but more like just a headache, y’know? Bearable.”

“Is the migraine gone?” he asked again, and my brain asked, “Didn’t I just answer that?”

Then I thought, “He must mean, “Is it a migraine anymore, or just a headache?’”

So, I answered, “Yes.”

What he said after that was a bit of a blur. I thought about it after they’d removed the IV and released me, while I waited for my husband to drive back down to pick me up. What I concluded was that I had a Complex Neurological Migraine , and if the pain returned I was supposed to go back — or go to my family Doctor — or something like that. He’d said that the fact that the medication had eased the migraine was the deciding factor in the diagnosis. I’d been at the hospital for a total of six hours.

It’s my own fault that I didn’t turn my husband around halfway home, when I realized the pain had returned, as strong as ever. I had all kinds of reasons not to: “I don’t want to sit in the hospital anymore. Maybe the pain is just a kink in my neck from sleeping in that weird position. They have so many other patients with much more severe symptoms than I. It’ll make hubby even more stressed and upset. I’m tired and still woozy from the drugs. All I want to do is sleep.”

 So sleep I did — off and on for eighteen hours, before I finally decided I needed to shake it off and see whether the returning pain was just from oversleeping, or if it really was the same pain I’d had since Tuesday evening. It was.

This is already too long of a blog, so I’ll write part two of this tomorrow. I need to get a bit of rest now, anyway, before I get back to it. I think this is going to end up being three parts, with maybe an update here and there as I progress in recovery. For now, know that I’m alright. The final diagnosis, (Bell’s Palsy), next to the Complex Neurological Migraine, is the best diagnosis I could hope for, and I have a good chance of full recovery of my facial muscles in the next few months.

Meanwhile, stay well, and have a productive day!