My vision took a sudden drop (right eye, close up sight mostly) before the spine shit hit the fan. Yesterday it dropped again. I’ll be ambulanced over from Rehabville to MEEI’s ER later today where they’ll likely do an MRI. Joy. This was supposed to be done last night but someone forgot to call the ambulance service. This, naturally, ups my already skyrocketing stress levels.
The eye shit is, undoubtedly, my frontal lobe meningioma’s doings. Rat bastid! Will I need MORE fucking surgery? Can I get by with radiation (which hasn’t worked for me in the past)? Are there any magic pills?
Who knows?
Bottom line here is that I’m not going home anytime soon if ever. That’s how it feels at any rate.
I really am headed back to Valhalla though—soon too. The Donna team met again after a bunch of the nurses and docs dealt with my sobbing, it’s-all-hopeless-I’m-never-going-home fits. I WILL, now, be home for Thanksgiving!
While the tears helped, explaining how much PT I’d actually get if they kept me six extra days—a measly four sessions, due to the holiday and weekend. If not for those, I’d get 12 sessions and would totes be cool (more or less) hanging in despite how much I miss home.
When will I once again be a guest at Chez MGH? That depends on what the neuro eye docs have to say. Joy+.
I need a goddamn, motherfucking break.
Meanwhile, when I get home Wednesday, how long will Coco play aloof, oh-I’d-forgotten-all-about-you, guilt inducing queen? She can be a cruel kitten.
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