The gloved hand holds down my calve. I feel the tip of the needle enter its tenderness. My face buried in the pillow. Electromyogram (EMG). A synonym for water-boarding in the world of neurological testing.
EMG's can tell you whether nerve issues are coming from your spinal cord. But mine pointed in the direction of a neurological disease. The kind with letters as names.
Something happens when you hit a wall. You're chin digs in. Your eyes point to the sky. And you are forced to see something new. A sky with a sun shining down on lost hope.
Then I met a doctor, who I hope will be, the final stage in what has been an exhaustive journey of discovery.
My ex husband has wanted me to see him for months. But my ego got in the way. Perhaps it was the Taurus in me. Stubborn. But my two older children were persistent. They would come back from their dad's house and tell me that he asked about my progress. Another time he sent a message through them as to what he thought I should do next. But I still wasn't ready to bend. Even though he was in one of the most highly acclaimed practices in the nation. I couldn't get out of my own way.
Last Friday my phone rang. The voice was professional yet kind. She was calling from this new doctor's office to set up an appointment. That my ex had requested. With every test result possible sitting in a Brookstone bag in the corner, I gave in. They fit me in for 10am Monday morning.
Ego affects some when we're conflicted. As though it is the last string tied to our identity. I was resisting my ex husband's help because of our history. When history was perhaps the one thing that could finish this puzzle as to the loss of mobility in my leg and weakened limbs. My neck that collapses like an egg timer at twenty minutes. If you ever want to cook something just sit me in a chair and as soon as I whimper, it's done!
I am a difficult case. He listened. And I was heard. He nodded. And his thoughts were full. He pulled it all together, and placed the final piece of the puzzle into place, a piece of the sun.
The goal now is to attempt to calm my nervous system. At the moment I resemble a pixie chick with Parkinson's. Tweettt.
There is rarely a cup of coffee that doesn't end up on my chest. Applying lipstick has become an Olympic event. My left leg drags like Quasimoto. And I have night sweats. I am so hot.
If they can calm my system, we will attempt to regain muscle and stability in my neck and limbs.
If this does not help, we will be looking at another neck surgery to stabilize C7-T2.
I don't know where I will be six months from now. My goals are simple. To hold my head up. And be the girl I was before.
I will have weathered a storm the last year and a half only storm chasers have seen. And I will know that it is not only the body and mind that must be tended to, but a healing of the self. The ego. I am humbled. And grateful for being shown how blessed life can be if you let down your wall, lift your chin to the sky, and see something that before, you never thought could be. The letting go, of me.