So sixteen months ago I began writing blog entries called “Tales Of Twitch”. I called them that because I was noticing a little twitch in my eye that started when I arrived back in Alliance after spending holidays with the family.
At that time the twitch was really nothing more than a minor irritance. Especially when 2019 turned out to be The Year Of Health Issues. The diagnosis of adrenal insufficiency, the discovery of the Chiari malformation, the hospitalizations, the resumption of regular injections I had stopped taking twenty-plus years earlier, and so forth. With all that going on who had time to bother with a little twitch!?
Well, as the things that were wrong with me have been made right, Mr. Twitch has always been there–sometimes not a big deal, sometimes a real pain. But over the last couple of months the twitch has become enough of a problem for me to discuss it with my primary care provider.
During today’s appointment (at which, incidentally, I officially weighed in at 126 lbs.–well within the normal range for my height–suck it quarantine!) I explained to the good doctor that the twitch doesn’t hurt, but it makes my job very challenging.
Take a look at this video: my right eye appears to be engaged in some kind of labor dispute. And that half of my face kind of joins in.
Besides the awkward visual this creates, the spasm affects my ability to speak, sometimes to the point where I am forced to sort of talk out of one side of my mouth. This is not great when your job is to talk.
Fortunately, my doc has located a specialist in the area who treats this. The generally approved method for treating this type of facial spasm is monthly injections of botulinum toxin.
Yes, that’s right, I’m getting Botox. And it won’t make my troll-like visage look a bit better. What a gyp!
Joking aside, monthly trips to Scottsbluff (the COVID capital of Western Nebraska) does not thrill me. But I am tired of fighting through this. So mask on, needle ahoy, it is time to fix the twitch!