Flapping Arms

Woke up with a dull headache.  Went to eat and had what I would classify as a seizure.  My arms were flapping in a zig-zag pattern and my body started to shake.  I lay down on the couch and called Tele-Health, who told me to get to emergency again ‘cause my TIA condition was getting worse.  Bobo didn’t want to drive me there again.  “What’s the sense”, he said, “They are just going to send you home after waiting hours on a stretcher”.  He didn’t want to go all the way to The Heart Attack Central Station, so we went to my local hospital.  That was a mistake. 

Just as we are walking in the lobby, some kid started shrieking which for some reason, set off another “seizure” or flapping arms syndrome.  My husband asked the woman at triage if she had a wheelchair.  “No, go sit on a red chair,” she answered.  “Well, my wife is having a problem walking and sitting on your chair”, he told her.  He came back to me and asked me if I wanted to go to “Heart Attack Central Station”.  “How the h*** am I going to get to the car?” I asked him.  Can you lift me up?  He asked the lady in Triage, if he should take me to the Heart Hospital.  She said, “I don’t care.  Do whatever you like”.  So when the triage nurse finally came outside to get her next patient, she asked the 12 people there, “Who’s next?”  They all pointed to me.  She looked at me and said, “Get into the chair in the Triage room”.  I looked at her, flapping away, and said, “And HOW am I going to do that?”  My flapping stopped for a while and I managed to get into a wheelchair (which someone miraculously found) and she took me into the room.  “Get into that chair”, she instructed.  Then I had another attack.  My arms were swinging all over the place and I was falling out of the chair.  I heard someone say, “She’s having a seizure”.  “No, she’s not”, she answered, “SIT IN THAT CHAIR”.  “Stupid b****”, I thought.  My husband picked me up and plopped me on the chair.  I think she asked me some questions and I said absolutely nothing. My head was banging into the window behind me. Lucky for me, the emergency doctor who remembered me from Sunday/Monday, saw me,  and next thing I knew I was in the waiting room, waiting to be seen.  I didn’t wait long because they called my number pretty quickly.  They were on number 89 and I was number 7.  I skipped the queue. 

It was the nice doctor.  “What are you doing here again?” he asked.  I told him I was walking backwards crashing into coffee carts yesterday, and today I was flapping around like a bird.  “It”s good that you came in today,” he told me.  “Now we can start piecing some of the puzzle together.”  “What did they tell you at Heart Attack Central Station yesterday?” “They said to phone the neurosurgeon on Monday and get an MRI ASAP.  So he disappeared for a while.  I could hear him talking to someone on the phone.  “Call the radiologist, tell her we have someone in emergency who needs an MRI.  Who’s on call?  Too bad if she doesn’t want to come in, if she is on call she has to come in.  1:30.  Good.”  He came in and told me that I would be getting an MRI at 1:30 (40 minutes away).  Finally.  Maybe some light would be shed on what I was experiencing.

Good old Cathy came and helped calm me down after the MRI.

“We did an MRI”, the doctor said, “And the back of your head lit up like a Christmas Tree”.  “Here is a copy of your MRI.  Phone the neurosurgeon at Heart Attack Central Station first thing on Monday morning and get an appointment to see him”.  

One of the papers he gave me said I have a probable cavernous hemangioma.  Not sure what that diagnosis really means but I hope they are not going to have to drill into my head to get something out.

That’s all folks.  Hope your week was better than mine.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s