radfrac_archive_full

The neurologist called me at work the morning after the MRI, which caused me quite a bit of calm resignation during a quadrille of phone tag -- until she actually reached me to tell me that I have a congenitally narrow spinal channel and a sodded-up disc in the upper stories of my neck. My brain, on the other hand (my brain on the other hand?): normal.

The result being that I still get to meet a neurosurgeon (apparently he is young and feverishly talented) but if there is surgery (and it sounds like there will be) it will be to my neck, not my brain.

I call that as near to a delightful result as anyone has a right to expect.

It's amazing how different, psychologically, metaphysically, a mechanical problem is from a neurological one. It's fascinating to watch it operate in my thoughts. Different paradigms are invoked. Different models of suffering and endurance. Different kinds of hope and planning. I hope, for example, for much further discussion of this. Just now, though, I am going for a walk.

I am not allowed to crane my neck back to look at the gleaming blue sky of a brand new day. But it's a bit dreary up there just now anyway. So instead: gaily forward.

{rf}