cognition (1)
Mar. 18th, 2008 06:58 pmI have the odd sense of having gotten myself into something.
I keep thinking things like "Now you've done it."
I've gone to these health professionals and presented them with the text of my body. This little poem of symptoms I've composed. Although they're reading things I have no control over, things I couldn't fake if I wanted to, I feel -- not as bad as guilty -- responsible. Like I've been a bit reckless really, having these symptoms, and I should have thought through the consequences first. Larking about like Byron with my limp.
This is not, to clarify, a feeling that I have made this happen with the Power of my Mind. It's more as though I'd gone into a job interview and exaggerated my qualifications for being ill, and now I'm realizing I'm going to have to actually do the job.
I really don't have the right clothes for sickness casual.
I saw the physio again today -- he asked me to come by after I'd seen the neurologist. He's a kind of a sportif busybody really. I'm grateful.
I thanked him for his interest and his pushiness. We had a talk. I told him what the neurologist said ("I don't know.") I told him she was quite excited by the idea that it could be a benign tumour of the spine, or some kind of congenital narrowing of the spinal cord, or some kind of congenital flaw in something I forget the name of. Also that she mentioned MS. Which makes two mentions now.
He seemed underimpressed. He doesn't think it's mechanical or spinal. He thinks it's motor cortex, because of the clonus.
I mean, I concur, but neither of us happens to be the neurologist. If she doesn't know, we don't know.
It's strange, I mean, it's strange in that it's so ordinary. You go to a movie with a bloke who tells you that you walk funny. You're maybe slightly annoyed because you were halfheartedly trying to get a leg over him and he keeps talking about his intestines and your limp, and it's the wrong movie playing anyway, and six weeks later you're looking down the barrel of an MRI thinking -- Now you've done it.
Falling from one pin to another, like pachinko in slow motion.
{rf}
(
lemon_pickle - like Paula from "Home Movies" when she gets the job with the monkey.)
I keep thinking things like "Now you've done it."
I've gone to these health professionals and presented them with the text of my body. This little poem of symptoms I've composed. Although they're reading things I have no control over, things I couldn't fake if I wanted to, I feel -- not as bad as guilty -- responsible. Like I've been a bit reckless really, having these symptoms, and I should have thought through the consequences first. Larking about like Byron with my limp.
This is not, to clarify, a feeling that I have made this happen with the Power of my Mind. It's more as though I'd gone into a job interview and exaggerated my qualifications for being ill, and now I'm realizing I'm going to have to actually do the job.
I really don't have the right clothes for sickness casual.
I saw the physio again today -- he asked me to come by after I'd seen the neurologist. He's a kind of a sportif busybody really. I'm grateful.
I thanked him for his interest and his pushiness. We had a talk. I told him what the neurologist said ("I don't know.") I told him she was quite excited by the idea that it could be a benign tumour of the spine, or some kind of congenital narrowing of the spinal cord, or some kind of congenital flaw in something I forget the name of. Also that she mentioned MS. Which makes two mentions now.
He seemed underimpressed. He doesn't think it's mechanical or spinal. He thinks it's motor cortex, because of the clonus.
I mean, I concur, but neither of us happens to be the neurologist. If she doesn't know, we don't know.
It's strange, I mean, it's strange in that it's so ordinary. You go to a movie with a bloke who tells you that you walk funny. You're maybe slightly annoyed because you were halfheartedly trying to get a leg over him and he keeps talking about his intestines and your limp, and it's the wrong movie playing anyway, and six weeks later you're looking down the barrel of an MRI thinking -- Now you've done it.
Falling from one pin to another, like pachinko in slow motion.
{rf}
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