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Archive for July, 2013

New neuro whatnot

Due to the massive memory problems, I got an urgent appointment with my neurologist. While decrease of memory is a side effect of the anti-seizure medication that I’m on, apparently my levels don’t reach therapeutic levels so that probably isn’t it.

You know what this means? If you said tests, tests, and more tests, you win a test!

I have a sleep deprivation EEG scheduled in which I have to stay up all night and show up at 8:30 utterly uncaffeinated. UNCAFFEINATED! Then they attach nodes to my head with toothpaste type glue. I really hope that I can sleep during the test. I can’t imagine staying awake for that long to be told, you need to be wide awake throughout this entirely boring test (the last EEG I had included a darkened room – good luck keeping me awake!).

Then, I have 2 MRIs (one without contrast and one with contrast) and at least one MRA (an MRI of the arteries). Then I get to meet with a neuropsychiatrist for a battery of tests for memory, attention, and problem solving.

I’m exhausted just typing that out.

Because I can’t resist bragging, Andrew is doing really well. He will be 6 months (already) in less than 2 weeks. He has a good disposition and is generally happy. He seems to enjoy daycare and he does quite well there. I think it helps that he isn’t the center of attention there because I don’t think that neither Bob nor I tend to focus on anything else.

I forgot to mention in the last post that for the first 3 1/2 months of Andrew’s life, I was nearly OCD with stories of child abuse. Very literally searching out stories and often finding myself reading or watching them after I told myself no more. Heartrendingly awful stories. I convinced myself that without reading these, how would I know that I could be a good mother? I need to watch for signs that I could do these things.

I can never unknow these things and I hate that I felt the obsessive quality with which I sought them out. It is completely disturbing to me now that I ever did that. I felt comforted that after reading each story, I felt an overwhelming need to hug, kiss, and comfort Andrew (even though he didn’t need to be comforted, I did).

Hopefully my next post will be full of good news that my memory problems are either fixable or at least manageable. It terrifies me that they aren’t. While waiting for the neurologist, I fantasized that he had a new and experimental procedure that I qualified for. In his office, he could use a very long and large needle to insert it into my temple, and therefore my brain, and place stem cells to give life to brain cells long gone. It would be terrifying and horribly painful, but worth it. I could go home and walk normally (focusing so much on my memory right now has created regression in my leg) and be confident about my abilities. I could easily take the stairs, I remembered things. I no longer annoyed people with questions about every-freaking-thing, including what our conversation (that we were currently having) was about.

Ah, fantasies, huh?

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