"My father was an acupuncturist so I had had them in my body many times; besides, I've had this test done before. Nothing was definitive then so it was diagnosed as a viral infection of the peripheral nerves." I mumbled. "I don't mind doing it again if you feel that the working diagnosis is not working anymore."
"So, just you know, the needles in EEG's are much bigger than the acupuncture needles. They are the size of a large sewing needle, you know? You are sure you're OK with it?" Dr. Gorin was asking in disbelief, chuckled slightly.
"It's really OK if you think I need one. I am fine." I reassured him.
It was last Thursday. The corridors in University of California, Davis, Medical Center were cold and stark. The walls are in various shades of surgical light greenish blue. It was early in the morning. As usual, I go to these tests and doctors' appointments by myself, driving myself unless I am not allowed to leave without another driver. It was on the fifth floor, room 5025: "EEG, MRI's fMRI's". Opened the door, saw a familiar smiling face--she remembered me from previous exams.
"Nice blouse, from China?" She asked.
"O, yes, bought it about 25 years ago!"
""Still fits?" She hummed along.
"I guess so!" I murmured likewise.
"Goooddt Morrning! I am Docccttor Oskaarssen (neurologist). How arrr yuuuu?" Heavy Norwegian accent, very charming. "I'ma going toooo test yuuu todayah with needles. Arrr youuu afraiduh?" He had a big grin while talking and I could barely keep a straight face.
"I'm OK and let's get started." I wanted to get it over with so badly, I thought to myself.
20 minutes into the test the nice lady tech left and told me that the Dr. would "do" the needles by himself. So 40 minutes later, about 20's jabs--no warnings given, clean punctures were all over my left leg and buttock.
"Arrr youuu in pain? Yuuu OK?" Dr. O asked.
"I will be fine and thank you for the EEG and the needle jabs." I replied after getting dressed.
At that point Dr. O turned around, laughing uncontrollably (I didn't get this one) and said, "VWhat is jab? Yuuu arrr not bleeding, arrr yuuu?" So sorry about the needles. My jobuh is to makeh every patient hateh me. I cannotuh win. Have a very niceh afternoonuh and keepuh youeh leg oupp!" He nodded and shook my hand. " Canntuh getuh rid of my accentuh. I hopeh yuuu underrrstanduh me. Bye bye." I was dying on the inside, taken by his accent--smirking my way out under my breath!
As I was walking to my car and the sting started to set in. They weren't that deep, only about one to two inches. I guess it must have been the sheer number of pokes that overwhelmed my left leg muscles. By the time I got to my car, I found myself limping, just a bit (that's a lot of me). All the while I was readying my brain on my work-out as soon as I got home (may be I will rest a bit first)--going over the routines in my mind, envisioning the miles on the treadmill, number of pounds of weight on each apparatus……etc...
Two hours passed, I was in complete work-out attire. Driving, parking and then walking to the gym awoke a few disgruntled left leg muscles. I discounted my feelings and pressed on. On the Matrix 5 minutes later, Incline 15, 4 miles per hour, set for 30 minutes--I was huffing and puffing 5 minutes into this and the pain was absolutely tortuous. Five more minutes my left leg felt like it was going to explode. I pressed on. Finished the walk/climb, finished the grueling routines on weight-training machines, back on the Matrix for a second round: Incline 15, 3.8 miles per hour and another 30 minutes, and lastly, 60 sit-ups. 2 hours and 15 minutes later, I was finished and I could not feel my left leg and it was still there and no blood. I thought that was good and I was rather heroic! Just a hint of fear started to settle into my frontal cortex!
This entire moronic recount of my "hardcore" mentality became horrific after I got home. I started to read the brochure that I was supposed to have read before the test and later I signed on the dotted line to accept any consequences from the EEG. Let's see how low my intellectual quotient (common sense) was: First paragraph ended with "cold compresses highly recommended and bed rest for 24-48 hours required after testing. Second paragraph: Call 911 when pain begins to feel like stinging. Five pages of possible and probable scenarios were explicitly explained and various cautious measures were recommended. It was about 4.5 hours too late.
The telling/blogging of this experience might make you all think I've gone mad; nonetheless, it takes exactly the right dose of a particular type of denial and cock-eyed optimism for me to survive my Russian roulette disease called lupus. It is always my decision to act upon informed instincts and I know myself. I have chronic pain and I know the difference between bad and worse pains.
I am not just anyone living with a chronic illness. I am a tough and determined person with a heart, intelligence, and conviction to live my life to the fullest. Remember, I had had that test one other time!!! And I rested for 2 hours afterwards this time!! And that's the line I am sure some of you might have missed earlier in this blog. I had no fear because I was assured from my knowledge and experience.
I am not advocating anyone else to do what I did, I am simply trying to express how my life has been like an EEG test for the last 27 years. If I had read the brochure and indoctrinated myself with all the the probable possibilities, there would have been no music, no graduate school, no husband, no pregnancy, no son, no house, no friends, no concerts, no driving, no walking, no bilingual school in China, no travels, no working out, no eating, no reading, no laughing, no purpose, and the "no" list can go on forever. And most of all, no normalcy, NO LIFE whatsoever, under the heavens.
And oh! Life is too plum and beautiful to miss, even in pain and in agony. There is joy and humor in everything and everyone alive and I am NOT planning on missing any of it until it's my time to depart and transcend to walk into another realm of glory. May the sun smile on me again tomorrow morning!?--to which I can faintly hear Spock replying, "Affirmative!"
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