Happy holidays...
There's another huge life event that I'd like to impart, but it is much more complex and difficult to remember in comparison to attempting to explain why the holidays get me down. The other life changing event was becoming occurred during my last semester at UAA.
I had received the disappointing news that I would not be able to go to medical school. My MCAT scores were not good enough to attempt to fight for the 10 slots reserved for Alaska residents, so I had applied to graduate school and was waiting to hear if I'd gotten in to any programs. I only needed to complete one literature course to complete my minor and one more upper division biology class, so I was mostly taking dance classes and a biochemistry class that I needed for one of the graduate programs I'd applied to when I noticed some numbness on my left side. Well, numbness isn't quite right, as it certainly wasn't numb. It was more like the intense sensation one gets when you've slept on your arm all night and the blood again returns, except instead of the pins and needles sensation in my arm or leg, it was on my side. I could hardly stand the sensation of my clothing touching my side.
After a couple of days, the numb patch grew to include my left thigh and I decided to go to student health to ask if this was something I should be concerned about. I spent a good portion of my day sitting in the exam room as phone calls were made and clinics consulted. Finally, I was sent to a neurologist, complicated by the fact that I had no medical insurance. I was no longer covered by my family's plan, which is why I used student health. Just to consult with the neurologist would cost $500 and I didn't know how I'd pay for it, as I had lost my student job the previous month. But my father paid for the visit and went with me to meet the doctor.
The consultation was brief. There really were not many possibilities, but he would need to run some tests. Most important was an MRI of my brain and spine to rule out multiple sclerosis. So I waited for a few weeks, until I could get the MRI and in that time, my health quickly deteriorated. My left arm was becoming heavy and difficult to use. My hand writing, of course I'm left handed, deteriorated. One morning, I woke to discover that the left side of my face was drooping and when I went to class, I couldn't even pick up my pen. At this point, I became terrified.
I'm really not sure about the sequence of events that brought me to that morning. I don't remember whether the left half of me was working at the time I had the MRI or how long after I had to wait for the follow up with the neurologist. But what remains clear in my mind was the morning I discovered that the left half of me wasn't working and the terror that I felt. The person in the mirror was no longer me and suddenly I had no future. I couldn't imagine graduate school or even any future at all. It seemed that my life must be over.
But life continues, whether you want it to, and one doesn't have much choice in the matter. I remember going to the follow up with the neurologist and I remember my father being there. I have no idea what was said during the appointment, but I have the image of my MRI forever seared into my memory. It was my brain, with a huge white spot on the right side. I left the office with a book on MS and an appointment to begin physical therapy and 5 hospital treatments. Perhaps an appointment with a therapist, too.
During this time, I have clear memories of my father's involvement. He helped me sort out all of the paperwork for getting all of these treatments without medical insurance and filling out piles of applications for financial assistance. I was interviewed at UAA's Disability Support Services so that I could receive accommodations, so I would still graduate in 3 months. That was strange, sitting in Lyn Stoller's office as a client, not an employee. I wouldn't be the one sent along to take notes or transcribe answers to exam questions, I was the client, so one of my ex-coworkers would be attending my classes with me. Weird.
And at this time, I found out that I had interviews at graduate schools. And the first interview, I'd be leaving for just a day after my last infusion of cortical steroids.
My father often came along to my infusions and if it wasn't him, Nate was there. I never had to go alone. And my fear quickly subsided as I become completely focused on appointments, school work, and preparing for graduate school interviews. I no longer had time to worry about the fact 1/2 of my face didn't work or the useless arm I was dragging along with me. Once I received the diagnosis, I don't remember shedding another tear over the situation. My focus was on getting well.
But I was frustrated. I hated being home. I'd rather be at the University, at an appointment, or doing things with my dad and/or Nate. Home was not fun. I lost my adult status with my mother. She suddenly would barge in on my showers and try to "help". I could hardly get dressed without her showing up. I would wake in the night to discover her sitting at the foot of my bed crying. There was a growing emotional distance between me and my mother for years, but it was during this period that I began to truly dislike her. I was the one that was sick, yet she somehow made it about her and her failings as a parent.
It was also this time period that I knew that I would be with Nate forever. While my future seemed uncertain, Nate completely confused me by treating me as he always had. We went to movies. We went out to eat. And most bizarre, he still wanted to be sexual with me. I probably did stop him at first to point out that I'm funny looking and 1/2 of me doesn't work, what the fuck are you doing? It was a strange moment to discover that my potential plunge into life-long disability didn't matter to my father or to Nate. And it didn't keep me from getting into two graduate programs either.
And is frequently the case, the inflammation subsided and with physical therapy, the use of my left arm returned and over time, my face became less cockeyed. But things never did really become normal again. Something very fundamental changed and I would never again take my abilities completely for granted. Now I know that at anytime I could lose the ability to speak, walk, see, think... really anything could be lost in a second without warning. Less than a year later, I woke in the night to discover that I couldn't control my eye movement. I've been lucky that the disease has been relatively minor with infrequent periods of reactivation, but I might not always be so blessed, but I am confident that no matter what, Nate will be here with me. I might not be able to trust my own body, but I can trust him.
I had received the disappointing news that I would not be able to go to medical school. My MCAT scores were not good enough to attempt to fight for the 10 slots reserved for Alaska residents, so I had applied to graduate school and was waiting to hear if I'd gotten in to any programs. I only needed to complete one literature course to complete my minor and one more upper division biology class, so I was mostly taking dance classes and a biochemistry class that I needed for one of the graduate programs I'd applied to when I noticed some numbness on my left side. Well, numbness isn't quite right, as it certainly wasn't numb. It was more like the intense sensation one gets when you've slept on your arm all night and the blood again returns, except instead of the pins and needles sensation in my arm or leg, it was on my side. I could hardly stand the sensation of my clothing touching my side.
After a couple of days, the numb patch grew to include my left thigh and I decided to go to student health to ask if this was something I should be concerned about. I spent a good portion of my day sitting in the exam room as phone calls were made and clinics consulted. Finally, I was sent to a neurologist, complicated by the fact that I had no medical insurance. I was no longer covered by my family's plan, which is why I used student health. Just to consult with the neurologist would cost $500 and I didn't know how I'd pay for it, as I had lost my student job the previous month. But my father paid for the visit and went with me to meet the doctor.
The consultation was brief. There really were not many possibilities, but he would need to run some tests. Most important was an MRI of my brain and spine to rule out multiple sclerosis. So I waited for a few weeks, until I could get the MRI and in that time, my health quickly deteriorated. My left arm was becoming heavy and difficult to use. My hand writing, of course I'm left handed, deteriorated. One morning, I woke to discover that the left side of my face was drooping and when I went to class, I couldn't even pick up my pen. At this point, I became terrified.
I'm really not sure about the sequence of events that brought me to that morning. I don't remember whether the left half of me was working at the time I had the MRI or how long after I had to wait for the follow up with the neurologist. But what remains clear in my mind was the morning I discovered that the left half of me wasn't working and the terror that I felt. The person in the mirror was no longer me and suddenly I had no future. I couldn't imagine graduate school or even any future at all. It seemed that my life must be over.
But life continues, whether you want it to, and one doesn't have much choice in the matter. I remember going to the follow up with the neurologist and I remember my father being there. I have no idea what was said during the appointment, but I have the image of my MRI forever seared into my memory. It was my brain, with a huge white spot on the right side. I left the office with a book on MS and an appointment to begin physical therapy and 5 hospital treatments. Perhaps an appointment with a therapist, too.
During this time, I have clear memories of my father's involvement. He helped me sort out all of the paperwork for getting all of these treatments without medical insurance and filling out piles of applications for financial assistance. I was interviewed at UAA's Disability Support Services so that I could receive accommodations, so I would still graduate in 3 months. That was strange, sitting in Lyn Stoller's office as a client, not an employee. I wouldn't be the one sent along to take notes or transcribe answers to exam questions, I was the client, so one of my ex-coworkers would be attending my classes with me. Weird.
And at this time, I found out that I had interviews at graduate schools. And the first interview, I'd be leaving for just a day after my last infusion of cortical steroids.
My father often came along to my infusions and if it wasn't him, Nate was there. I never had to go alone. And my fear quickly subsided as I become completely focused on appointments, school work, and preparing for graduate school interviews. I no longer had time to worry about the fact 1/2 of my face didn't work or the useless arm I was dragging along with me. Once I received the diagnosis, I don't remember shedding another tear over the situation. My focus was on getting well.
But I was frustrated. I hated being home. I'd rather be at the University, at an appointment, or doing things with my dad and/or Nate. Home was not fun. I lost my adult status with my mother. She suddenly would barge in on my showers and try to "help". I could hardly get dressed without her showing up. I would wake in the night to discover her sitting at the foot of my bed crying. There was a growing emotional distance between me and my mother for years, but it was during this period that I began to truly dislike her. I was the one that was sick, yet she somehow made it about her and her failings as a parent.
It was also this time period that I knew that I would be with Nate forever. While my future seemed uncertain, Nate completely confused me by treating me as he always had. We went to movies. We went out to eat. And most bizarre, he still wanted to be sexual with me. I probably did stop him at first to point out that I'm funny looking and 1/2 of me doesn't work, what the fuck are you doing? It was a strange moment to discover that my potential plunge into life-long disability didn't matter to my father or to Nate. And it didn't keep me from getting into two graduate programs either.
And is frequently the case, the inflammation subsided and with physical therapy, the use of my left arm returned and over time, my face became less cockeyed. But things never did really become normal again. Something very fundamental changed and I would never again take my abilities completely for granted. Now I know that at anytime I could lose the ability to speak, walk, see, think... really anything could be lost in a second without warning. Less than a year later, I woke in the night to discover that I couldn't control my eye movement. I've been lucky that the disease has been relatively minor with infrequent periods of reactivation, but I might not always be so blessed, but I am confident that no matter what, Nate will be here with me. I might not be able to trust my own body, but I can trust him.