Adventures in Diagnosis - Day 2

If I don't smile, you can't really tell... If you haven't read about my first day's adventures, you might get a little lost here. I want to try to keep the posts within reason, so I'm not going to rehash it all, but he first day is detailed in the last post , if you'd like to catch up.

So where was I? Oh, yes. I had just realized that I still had the "migraine", and I needed to figure out what the Doctor had told me to do about it...

As I said, I was a bit high on the administered migraine medication, when the second doctor from day one had talked to me. I wasn't sure what he wanted me to do if the pain returned. I was also concerned that other symptoms seemed to be worse. My right eye no longer closed at all, and my mouth was an even bigger mess than the day before. I couldn't pronounce certain letters without some serious concentration. "B", "P" and "F" were giving me a hard time. Trying to tell the kiddies to "Whinish your lunch bwefore you pwhlay with that!" brought on a fit of giggles all 'round. lol

In Ontario, we have this nifty toll free number we can call 24/7, and talk to a registered nurse for medical advice. It's called Telehealth , and they've helped me avoid unnecessary trips to the hospital with the kiddies in the past, so I dialed them up again. Within five minutes I had a nurse on the line, and told her the whooooole story, right from Saturday night. Funny enough, even in my distress, the writer in me had to come out. She commented that I was a very detailed story teller. I told her I'm an author. She asked what I write. Blah, blah, blah — she'll be looking for my book on Amazon sometime this week. lol. It's amazing how, even in times of distress, we can find a way to plug our books, isn't it? lol Anyway, the upshot was that she told me to go back to the Emergency, and she'd send the file ahead to speed up the admission process.

Now my hubby, smart man that he is, (after all, he married me, right? lol), had already called into work. He was concerned that I'd slept almost 18 hours in a go, considering four or five hours a night has been enough the past four years or so. He'd taken the day off "just in case". 

Again, we packed the kiddies into the car, and headed to the hospital. Again, Miss Monkey had to potty when we arrived. So, I took her in to the waiting room bathroom, waving at the security guards I'd seen the day before, on the way by. After I'd taken her back to the car, and given kisses all 'round, I returned to find all three guards watching expectantly at the window. Two visits and I was already a regular. lol

One of them came out to hold the door for me and ask me, jovially,  if I had a reservation. I told him, "I do, in fact, Telehealth should have called ahead to reserve my bed. VIP room please." He found that rather amusing, and waved me in with a little bow.

Unfortunately for me, the Emergency ward was twice as busy and half as staffed, so I was forced to take a number and a seat in the waiting room with all the people who hadn't made reservations. (*sigh* So much for fame and fortune. lol) My head was still pounding, but I'd almost become accustomed to it, after five days, so I chose to accept it, and try to be a patient patient.

While I was waiting, I managed to distract a woman in obvious agony from her knee pain, by regaling her with horror stories of hospital visits past. I told her about a childhood stay, where we'd entertained ourselves by playing baseball with the indestructible dinner rolls, in one hospital. She even laughed when I told her of another hospital that made such horrible jello, we'd stick it to the bedsprings and take bets on whose would fall off first. (All true stories mind you.) Before her number was called, she asked about my profession, and then if I could direct her to my book. I gave her one of the dozen bookmarks I keep in my wallet. (That's two for two. Maybe I promote myself better when I'm in pain.)

The admissions nurse was not the same I'd seen the day before, so I had to tell the whooooole story to her, too, in extremely scant detail. She waived me to the next window to collect my bracelet, chart and directions. The young man at the window recognized me, and made a light joke about frequent flyer miles. I joked back that lightweight drinkers and red wine are a spell for trouble. He asked why I'd been drinking it, and blah, blah blah — before he directed me back to the Yellow Zone, I'd left him a bookmark as well.

In the waiting area, the first doctor from the day before glanced at me and then backed up a step to say hello, and ask what I was doing back. He was very pleasant, but he seemed to be in a hurry, so I just told him it had gotten worse. He sighed and carried on. He didn't seem annoyed with me or anything, just disappointed that I'd had to return. Nice man. I really should find out his name. lol

I guess being a good patient gets you noticed, because everyone I'd seen the day before seemed to remember me this second trip. I had a lovely lady  give me the intial interview, set up my IV and take my blood. She let me rest a few minutes on the examination bed until the doctor could come over. I recognized the second doctor from the day before, bustling around in his efficient way, taking care of as many patients as he could handle. Another doctor, an older gentleman, was in the exam area next to me, patiently explaining to what sounded like a frightened young girl, what her vertigo was and what her treatment options were. I listened to one of the ladies at the desk, (my eyes were drying out, so I'd had to close them), tell the others how she'd been chased up a playground slide, by a fox, on her lunch break jog a few days before. In all, I'd say it took half an hour, from the time I walked into the hospital alone, to when I spoke to the doctor who would diagnose me.

This time it was the older gentleman who entered the exam area. He smiled and asked me to tell him everything I could about what I'd been through. lol. I knew this story by heart now! So I told him everything. He had me back up a couple of times and explain why my symptoms worried me. Whoa! I hadn't told any of the doctors about that! He wanted to know how this migraine was different from my usual migraines. Then he asked me something I thought was odd. He asked me to try to wrinkle up my forehead. I tried. He nodded, smiled, and pulled up the chair beside the bed.

Normally, when a doctor pulls up a chair in the Emergency ward, you're in for something pretty earth-shattering, but somehow he made it seem like he was going to pull out a tray with tea and cookies. lol.

Tea and biscuits were not forthcoming, but a new diagnosis was. He said, "Your migraine isn't your problem, it's a symptom. You see, there are twelve sets of cranial nerves that control the different things your head does. Sometimes, for no reason at all, set number seven stops working, and that causes paralysis of the facial muscles."

The doctor went on to explain that this phenomenon was more common than I'd think, and definitely treatable. He explained that, with a treatment consisting of steriods, (
I'd heard of Bell's Palsy, but I had no clue what it was. If he'd told me that name before he explained what it was, I think I'd have passed out. The word "Palsy" stirs up such terrifying thoughts! This doctor's beside manner was above and beyond the call of duty, and I wish I'd taken the time to commend him for it. Perhaps I'll send him a thank you card.

The doctor told me he wanted to run a CT scan , just to ensure he hadn't missed anything. He was sure the scan would come back clean, he said, but they had to be sure there was absolutely no sign of stroke, tumour or fluid build-up in the brain, since it's only possible to properly diagnose Bell's by elimination of any other cause.

"When we have the negative CT scan," (notice he didn't say 'if'), we can get you out of here, and you can start your treatment."

Back to the pods I went, after refusing the same medication I'd had the day before and accepting an offer of Advil. The pods were hopping! Unlike the day before, the Yellow Zone was packed to the rafters today, and I settled into Pod B with five fellow patients in various states of consciousness.

Once the Advil dampened the pain, I was able to engage some of my podmates in random smalltalk, beginning with how to get blood out of a new pair of pants, and moving from subject to subject, as my crack-squirrel of a brain is prone to do. lol

Before I was called for my scan, I'd given away two more bookmarks, (one to the bubbly nurse from the day before, and one to a lovely couple seated across from me). I'd come prepared for the cold and discomfort of sleeping in the chairs this time, but since I didn't have the IV drugs, I needed neither. The lady across from me certainly did, though, so I happily leant her the fleece jacket and tiny pillow I'd brought, so she could rest. It wasn't long before a nurse noticed her discomfort, though, and paged for some warm blankets.

A tall, dark, handsome gentleman arrived to take me to the CT scan. He insisted on "pushing you around", with a hearty laugh, and finally suceeded in talking me into a wheelchair. We had a few laughs on the way to Diagnostic Imaging , where my scan was done within ten minutes, and I was slightly disappointed that he wasn't my driver for the return trip. But, he has my bookmark, so I'm sure he'll find me one day. Don't ask! I seriously have no clue as to how the subject came up in the five minute trip. lol

While I waited for the test results, I struck up some more conversations, told a couple of funny stories and gained a new podmate. A gentleman from Pod C slipped in, whispering that we sounded like more fun than his group, so he was crashing the party. He didn't stay long, though. He realized he might be missed, and snuck back before the nurses caught him jumping ship. lol

When the results came back, confirming Bell's Palsy as the diagnosis, the doctor went back through my treatment options. He warned me that the steroids could effect my emotions, making me angry, depressed or overly jolly. I asked if I could choose jolly, which he found amusing for some reason. (Hubby's been warned, so if he comes home to find me on the roof with all the kitchen knives, he'll be prepared. lol) Once I'd chosen, the doctor gave me the prescriptions and wished me well. I called my hubby to pick me up, had a nurse remove my IV and made my exit as quickly as possible!

One of the things the doctor had warned me about was the danger of damage to my cornea from the right eye drying out. I'd have to put a moisturizer in at night and tape the eyelid shut with cloth tape to keep it shut. I spent part of the trip home trying to think of how I'd prevent dryness during the day, and decided to pick up an eyepatch. Now the question was, how would I wear it, without the kiddies, (3 and 4 years old), getting  freaked out? Arrgh! Rocking the pretty pirate patch, with a laugh! I knew my 3 year old son would probably think it was cool. "Mama's a pirate!" lol. My four year old daughter might be a little less okay with it. That's when I got the bright idea to have her help me bling it up a little. When we got home, I pulled out her beading box and my glue gun, and we prettied it up together. Now she wants to borrow it to be a pirate princess on Halloween! lol

So now I'm rocking a blinged out eyepatch, and practicing my pirate-speak. It could take anywhere from a couple of weeks to a year, to get my muscle control back, but it could have been so much worse. I might scare some small children for a while, but at least I can fend off the door-to-door sales people, and shake up any neighbourhood stiffs. lol.

I may have one more blog, about how the early adjustments are going, if anyone is interested. Until then, be grateful for your blessings, I know I am! Have a happy and productive day, everyone! :D