Poster Lust -- The Aftermath.
Ask and ye shall receive; Bill found a copy of The Poster being auctioned off on eBay, and Augusté and Queen Elvis sent me in the general direction of the David Lee Roth Army. I could swear I'd gone through that site's photo archives before without success, but maybe I just got a whanging headache from the glare off of the numerous in-concert shots of a balding Dave's sweaty forehead, and quit looking.
So anyhow, as soon as I get my act together enough to give the "crushes" page a makeover (no more text running the entire length of the page), that piece will finally be complete.
Thanks, y'all! What the hell -- margaritas for everyone.
... All content copyright 1999-2000 by Nicole Willson. No ripping me off.
4/26 -- Ow, Dammit.
Today I went back to my trusty neurologist for the EMG testing, which was intended to determine if the numbness in my right hand is a result of carpal tunnel syndrome, a pinched nerve, or as the doctor rather charmingly put it, "something peripheral that's unrelated to what the optic neuritis is related to." Oh.
He'd warned me at our last appointment that the tests would be a little "uncomfortable." No kidding. I guess he didn't want to come out and say "After we get done shocking your right arm, we're going to stick needles all over it." I wonder how many patients would actually come back for the tests after hearing something like that. Kinda gets Amnesty International thoughts running through your head, doesn't it?
Okay, it wasn't that bad. It didn't hurt half as much as getting my tattoo did (and I never thought getting the tattoo really hurt all that much, either). And after that hideous experience with the cyst a couple of weeks ago, I've got a whole new standard of pain anyhow.
I'm just getting so fed up with random doctors poking me and prodding me and making me stare into weird little lightboxes and wheeling me into MRI machines and sticking IVs in me and drawing blood, and now this. I don't want to take any more pills. I don't feel like reciting the whole history of the optic neuritis ordeal to one more doctor. If I have to fill out one more of those freaking new-patient health history forms, I'm going to scream.
Really. Waiting for the elevator in the lobby of the Reston medical center today, I came unbelievably close to just turning on my heel and walking away from it all. Not that I think Bill would have ever let me do that, but the temptation was awful. The hell with it, I kept thinking. I'm sick of all this. My eye is perfectly fine now and I don't even care about the goddamn numbness anymore. Definitely not enough to keep going through all this shit. Enough. Enough.
And then the elevator came and we both got on it. Mental tantrum over.
The shocks, which served to test my reflexes and the responses in my numbed hand, came first. The first few shocks the doctor gave me were very intense; they lasted less than a second apiece, but they stung. When my doctor left the room briefly, I told Bill I felt like I was being tortured. "I confess! Whatever it is, I did it!" Ha ha ha.
After that, the neurologist stuck a needle in various places in my arm and hand. After positioning the needle, he'd put his hand over my arm and have me raise it against the resistance his own hand offered. The machine he'd hooked the needle up to made a fairly steady staticky sound; whenever I'd lift my arm, the static got louder and louder. The noise sounded like a train threatening to go through the room at a couple of points. If it hadn't really smarted whenever he stuck the needle in my hand, this test would have been kind of neat.
The result? He said that the tests indicated I didn't have either carpal tunnel or a pinched nerve. The next step will be Friday's MRI, and I'm seeing him again on Monday to talk about those results.
I was disappointed that the tests didn't turn up anything right away (especially something simple and easy to treat), but I can't say I'm terribly surprised. At this point, I'm just in a "Let's get on with it" frame of mind. Good news or bad news, I just wanna freaking know, already.