Veni, Vidi, Ventus --
The randomly chaotic and crafty scribblings of a deranged, wannabe artist allowed too many colours in her Crayon box.

Surgeon General's Warning: Some content of "From Pooka's Crayon" may not be suitable for: work, blue-haired little old ladies, the politically-correct, rabid moonbats, uptight mothers, priests, chronic idiots, insurance claims agents, Democrats, children, small furry quadropeds from Alpha Centauri, or your sanity.

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Is it dead yet?

Well, I sure feel it.

The Chiari is kicking my ass with a vengeance. For a while, the meds the neuro gave me helped, but I can't even walk across the room without stumbling into things. My coordination is just gone. Visual disturbances totally blow goats for quarters, whether it's a sudden lack of depth perception, or halos, or an inability to focus at all. Memory? Forget it, I can't recall even simple things that I've known for years. I get frustrated over feeling so stupid.

And the headaches, oh god, the headaches. I've spent since last Thursday night crying. Drove DG crazy all weekend, because I was just hopeless. When I woke up crying today after only getting about 4 hours sleep, DG had enough.

Saw my GP today, filled her in a little more. Nice happy shot of Toradol to the way too scrawny ass cheek (mercifully, my sobbing at her during moments where I couldn't remember stuff distracted her from my weight -- yes, I've lost MORE weight, but that happens when the drugs stop working), and suddenly, I can move my neck again. It was a start.

Unlike my neuro, my lovely GP believes in pain meds. If you are in pain, you don't rest, you stress, pain gets worse. Some relief, and you can heal, or at least function. I have drugs. Life is improving already, just from the Toradol. Gotta bloody remind myself to just give in and stop being so stubborn and hit the ER for a Toradol and dialudid shot BEFORE it reaches the pain point that it did today.

Of course, as usual, gotta fight with insurance over them not wanting to pay for a med. GIVE ME MY DAMN ZYRTEC, YOU FREAKS. Stupid AETNA. I wanna BREATHE, people. Anyway.

I also see the neuro Friday.

At that point, we'll set up my next MRI, which will -hopefully- indicate the Chiari is bad enough for me to have my skull carved on as a birthday present. Ghoulish me, yes, I know, but frankly, getting the decompression surgery around my birthday WOULD be a present. I might finally see some real relief here.

I'm going to attempt to try to keep up a bit more here, it's just not always easy. Words are no longer my friend, they like taunting me from a distance. I will however, make sure I update when I know about the MRI, and the results, and if they're going to carve on my skull or not.

They damn well better. I can't handle another 6 months of this.

1 comment:

kirafaye said...

Just hope your going alright. I have chiari and can empathise with what your going through.
ps if u haven't already check out I am kira faye on that board as well as others.