People have asked how I knew when to go in to get checked for MS. I didn't. Pure and simple. I thought I was stressed out from being a mother of two toddlers--age three and a half and one.
I knew what symptoms were showing up in early fall of 1995. My right hand was shaking uncontrollably. I was afraid to hold a glass or cup of anything in case I dropped it. My big vice back then was a big 44 oz. mug of soda, and it was a killer to hold, along with pushing the stroller my one-year old was still in. He refused to think he could walk on his own two legs at this moment in time.
I remember the look that passed between my in-laws when I laughed and blamed it on the heat of summer and the stress of the kids. I meant to ask them what "the look" meant, but we all got caught up in talking about how great Disneyland had been and the incident was forgotten.
Migraines showed up shortly after that--devastating, debilitating ones. I would lay down with the lights off and wish to die. My children would think it was fun when I'd let them watch movies all day or lay in bed with them and let them read books. They would fall asleep beside me and I would have the peace my exploding head needed.
Then, about Christmas time, both my in-laws and husband convinced me to go see a doctor. I was working as a Pampered Chef Director and having to either reschedule appointments due to these headaches or was driving through Salt Lake City rush hour traffic with them. Not a safe thing to do. And I could no longer convince them or me that the shaking or headaches was due to motherhood-stress.
I have often wondered if my in-laws had talked to Rick about MS. I didn't know what was wrong with me. I had an aunt with MS-my dad's sister. I knew nothing about it at all. So this was the farthest thing from my mind. I can't even remember talking about all these problems to my parents before hand.
I went to the doctor's office with full hope expecting to be given a prescription for my headaches and something for the tremors and be sent on my merry way. You know, the "Take two pills and call me in the morning" type of thing. But that wasn't to be.
My appointment was three days after Christmas, if I remember right. We didn't have a normal doctor so I went to a clinic where you wait for the next available doctor. I sat for what seemed like 90-minutes for my scheduled 3 pm appointment (that's when Rick was able to get off work so I could go). After I was grilled by the doctor for not being seen by any medical person since I'd had Taylor, he got down to the business at hand. He listened to my symptoms, asked me some questions and did a bunch of neurological tests.
I'm going to share this with you since I had to then; and have had to since; and will always have to do these tests:
- I followed his finger with my eyes, without moving my head, has he went left, right, up, down, diagonal, in, out.
- I was told to take my index finger, touch his index finger and bring it back and touch my nose. Repeat it several times. Now close my eyes. Try now. Switch hands.
- Skim one heel against the shin of the other leg. Switch.
- I had to do odd facial expressions-sticking out my tongue, raising my eyebrows, or puffing cheeks.
- I had to have my hands, elbow, feet, ears, knees, arms, legs, etc., checked for reflexes and pricked with toothpicks to test for nerve lost.
- I also listened to a tuning fork or snapping fingers to have my hearing tested.
- I've walked in a straight line-heel-to-toe, on toes only, and, then, heels only.
- I had to balance with my eyes closed and heel pressed together.
After I did what he wanted to and feeling quite ridiculous, he left the room. I just remember him leaving and thinking it was getting late and I needed to get home; it was getting dark out. He came back and had a prescription paper in his hand. I was thinking "Yes! I can just make it to the pharmacy and get out of here."
"Mrs.Segeberg."
Total silence. I could hear the buzzing coming from the lights and the traffic picking up from outside the clinic. Must be getting close to 5 pm.
"Yeessss." I was trying to get him to move this on. I wanted to get out of here. Give me the dang medicine so I could leave.
"I really can't help you here at the clinic. I am not really sure what you have for sure. I have written you a name of a really good doctor, a neurologist. Dr. So&So at such and such practice over by the mall. He is better equipped at helping with these issues. We are just a clinic. He can help you with your headaches."
He handed me my 'prescription' note and left, telling me to check with the receptionist on the way out. I was stunned. No pill. No fix. I had to go somewhere else. I came here to get relief and I was pawned off. It took me about 30-seconds for the shock to turn into anger. How dare he pawn me off?! What kind of clinic and Mickey Mouse place is this anyway? I wanted something for these stinking headaches. At least, he could have done was given me something.
I went to the receptionist and paid my bill. When she asked how things were, I told her. Believe me, I told her. But what could a poor receptionist do?
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(To Be Continued)
Thanks for sharing your story. I also have an aunt who had MS and lived well into her seventies. Hope you are doing well. Have a good week.
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