Golden Ticket
Posted By Russ Emerson on August 25, 2008 at 9:07 pm
I had my six-month followup with the neurologist this afternoon. He put me through the old familiar round of physical tests — reflexes, strength, sensitivity, and so on.
Here’s something you might not have known: when the doctor does a test on you and then calls his colleagues in to see him do the test again, you can count on it being either very good, very bad, or very weird.
Mine was very good… and just a bit weird.
When the doc does the old “tap with a hammer” reflex tests, each leg reacts strongly — stronger than expected, given how badly I had declined prior to the surgery, and given the level of recovery everyone has anticipated. That’s good. Those nerves, at least, are working.
What’s weird is, when each knee is rapped, that leg kicks out really well, but the other leg reacts too. Not as strongly, and not in the same way; the other leg pulls in towards the middle. That’s what drew the audience.
The neurologist explained it to me, and while I understood all the words, the sentence made no sense to me at all. As near as I can figure, I have the equivalent of some crossed wires somewhere in my central nervous system.
On the whole, though, the doc considers me his “miracle man” — his words, not mine. I’m doing so much better than I or anyone ever dared to hope. I’ll never be completely normal, but I’m closer than I ever thought.
After a couple of years of all this pure, refined weapons-grade crap happening to me, I’ve come out of it with permanent nerve damage, a couple of bitchin’ scars and no life’s savings. I didn’t even get a t-shirt.
Today, though… sing with me: “I’ve got a golden ticket.”
Just in case you didn’t get a good look at that…
Great parking for the next five years. I may not always need it, but I figure it’s better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it. So, at least I’ve got that going for me.
Oh, maybe this would be better:
That’ll do.
Being a medical miracle with a five year parking card is good stuff. I’m glad you are getting better.
Ahhh . . . you don’t want me singing.
But, congratulations on the progress you’ve made. Good news.