I know I promised fork number 2 and I have been thinking about the various men (like 2, maybe 3) that I had met along my life and how they had changed my life and path. We will get back to boys soon but I thought I would introduce Gertrude 1st.
So I wrote just after the MRI and told you my neuro thought it was a arachnoid cyst and most likely causing my probs. Like everyone else I feel better when I have an answer, an explanation because then I have a possible solution. I can kid myself I am in control of my life or at least co-labouring with God who created this fabulous me. She called the next night to confirm and was also pleased that her suspicions were correct. She squeezed me into her colleague the neurosurgeon who would be the one to zap it out. I decided if my anxiety had a name it was only fair my cyst had one too and I needed something that would go with Agatha. Some of my clapper friends tell me I may not name these things as I am giving them license in my life. For me it comes back to that control thing. Anxiety is hard to deal with, Agatha on the other hand is some old bitch that bullies me every so often and who I mostly have the upper hand on. She's ugly, mean spirited and predictable. So what would my cyst be called, my cysta. Gertrude! Perfect, I can even call her Gertie if I should ever feel any kind of fondness for her when I need to blame something on her. I always think of the scripture: Who is man that we are mindful of him. Or something to that effect. Who is Gertrude when I have God?
Anyhoo, the day of seeing the doc I felt quite nervy so asked my close friend Heather to come with me. She is calm and sensible and clever. I had all my questions typed up. After looking at the scan and showing me my 2cm cyst he told me he did not think it was causing my tongue breakdancing and also thought it was too risky to remove. Possible probs: pegging, stroke or paralysis. Yay, not. I felt so deflated, back to square one. The whole scan and doc thing had cost me thousands and kazillions and now I was no closer. At least he did say Gertrude was harmless and could stay. I went back to neuro lady for more Rivotril meds which help. I divide the 0.5mg tab in 2 so super low dose. I also went for more bloods and took my scan to my psyche who originally prescribed the cymgen as she was consulting with 12 experts at an international conference. Seems I am an interesting and perplexing case which is not something one wants to be medically. As I make peace with leaving Gertie well alone the neurosurgeon called to say he had consulted with a more experienced neuro who wants to see me Monday and thinks he can remove the cysta. WTF? I thought she stayed? Why does he want to see me? Blech, quite bored of the whole expensive and time consuming experience. I write exams in 2 weeks time and do not have time for all this crapola.
As of now I am fairly perky. The no can remove cyst week corresponded with PMS on steroids which has the tendency to cause self pity even if I have a pimple so the pity party was fairly spectacular. It only lasted a day though, sulking is very boring. Next week I will tell you round 2 of neuro vs Gertrude and then we can get back to talking about the one maybe two grand romances I had in my teens and twenties.
PS, Gertrude looks like Roz from Monsters Inc http://www.imdb.com/media/rm1122867456/ch0004385