Well, I headed to Springfield this morning in hopes of getting some good news. I still am not quite sure what I was hoping for, maybe in the back of my tiny mind I had visions of some well informed physician telling me that my diagnosis was wrong. I was thinking on the way there and by the time I arrived I had done a pretty good job of convincing myself that it was totally possible the other four medical professionals could be mistaken. I mean, I watch mystery diagnosis and some people go years being treated for an ailment, to find out later that the first diagnosis was wrong. I know that is television and unfortunately this is real life, but come on it could happen. Anyway, the hour trip was filled with anxiety of explaining this all to yet another doctor, but it really wasn't to bad.
The first appointment was with a physicians assistant. She seemed pretty nice. She asked some pretty basic questions and then she said the ever dreaded word "exercise". I have to tell you, this lady did not look like she was using her membership to local gym much. She was quick to add that she knows how hard it is to get into a regular routine with exercising and hoped that I realized how much it would help me. I appreciated her little pep talk, and I really am going to start, no really I am. All of my vital signs (I guess that's what they are) blood pressure, temp, pulse, they were all really good.
For my next appointment a kind old fellow lead me to a room down the hall. This room seemed like a play room for adults. Seriously, everything in there looked like over sized tonka toys. They had me stack blocks, I shit you not. Here I am 39.9 years old and people are watching me stack blocks and move marbles to the designated areas. I was just really getting into all the block stacking when they explained we would move to the next station. This station was walking on a treadmill, and I did pretty well. I didn't fall or trip or roll off the side, so I felt as though I must have passed this little strolling test. Then, are you ready for this?? I had to jump rope. Now, this well nourished girl hasn't jumped rope since Wilson School and that was a good many years ago. I began to laugh as I was trying my best not to fall, but those silly school yard songs were dancing in my head "Cinderella dressed in yellow",,Anyway, I finished up there and for my last meeting of the day, I was taken to yet another room to wait for the good doctor.
I had high hopes of getting another doctor as easy
to look at understand as my darling Morton med man, but that wasn't the case. I can understand how he has been apart of so many trials and such, lets just say that I'm quite sure he could retire at any moment. He seemed nice enough, but those fucking brain doctors are all so to the point. After once again being looked over and answering a shit pot of questions, he explained that he didn't feel safe changing meds or doing anything different, as this was the first time he had seen me. He explained a few things about Parkinson's and the dyskenisia that I suffer from, but that was about it. Oh, yea and he said that he was quite sure the diagnosis that all the other pill pushing people had given me was correct. We set another appointment for a few weeks from now. He wants me to come after taking no meds for thirty six hours. Hmm this should be fun. So, that was my day. Didn't learn much other then the fact that fat people can't jump rope and certainly not if there reflexes on one side are diminished.
Today was a good day.
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