This morning I set the appointment for my MRI.
Later this morning they called to reschedule. Such is life. Same day, but earlier.
They asked if I was claustrophobic and I heard myself say, “Not unnecessarily so”, which is just about as useless an answer as one could give. The truth is, I’m really not claustrophobic in the “having my head stuck in a giant medical imaging thingy for an hour” sense. I get claustrophobic on planes, which are genuinely close, awkwardly compressed surroundings. I don’t mind being inserted, like dough in a brick oven, into an MRI machine (or a CT-scan, or bone density scan–I should have remembered to get a punch card). The room I’m in is large, the building is huge…it’s all good. On a plane, you can’t stand up without hitting your head. You have literally nowhere to go but where you are. (Well, okay, you could go to the bathroom. I can’t because I’m socially awkward and don’t want to be a pain.)
All of the financial paperwork was well worth it, my responsibility for the procedure is now about $500, and I might be able to do that in monthly payments. Huzzah! I can spare my meager flex spending balance for other things.
I’m getting used to this pattern of “between days.” Days between any health-related news or activity are “between days”, and they are good days. I work, I write, I create, I walk around like there’s not something substantially wrong with me. The facial tremors are still there, damn near always, but I’m tolerating them under protest. “Between days” include fun things like Kalin’s album premiere show, our 70th anniversary contest, the big anniversary show Friday, and just plain ordinary days where the subject of “my brain is putting pressure on my spinal cord” doesn’t come up.
I think that’s about all I have to say today. Update in one week.