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Eureka! I have discovered why getting a diagnosis is so difficult, likened
closely to the quest for the Holy Grail. The problem is that we have been
relying on medicine, a science run by educated physicians and illustrated by
multi-syllabic latin words which they string together like
a strand of priceless pearls.
Maybe the key to finding the grail is to simply look up these three simple
words in your own copy of Webster’s Dictionary: diagnosis, diagnostician,
and physician. When you do, you will find the following definitions:
Diagnosis: the process of determining by examination the nature and
circumstances of a diseased condition. Diagnostician: an expert in
making diagnoses. Physician: a person who is legally qualified to
practice medicine.
So, in the quest for a diagnosis, maybe we need to no longer spend the money
on knowledgeable, highly trained neurologists who are “legally qualified to
practice medicine.” All we have to do is to pull out our worn dictionaries,
look up a few words and keep an eye peeled for a shingle hung from a door
reading, “diagnostician”.
If only getting a diagnosis was that easy. I don’t know where my quest will
end, but here is an accounting of the journey, so far.
My medical problems started two years ago when I came down with a nasty
version of bronchitis. Not wanting to see a doctor, I “toughed it out” for a
month or so before giving up and visiting my local general practitioner. By
then I was sick enough that I not only started on antibiotics, but also iron
supplements for anemia, and was sent to a pulmonologist for breathing
problems. A few days after starting meds for asthma, I evidently contracted
the flu, and my fever went over 105 degrees and cute little fairies came and
visited me for a few hours.
Within a week, tremors began in my right hand and right leg, and walking
became difficult. I was sent to a local neurologist, who said that he didn’t
know what my problem was. He ordered a brain MRI with and without contrast,
found nothing, so later on ordered another brain MRI and added on neck MRI,
both with and without contrast. He also ordered and carried out a lumbar
puncture. The only abnormality was a slight elevation in protein from the
LP, but nothing abnormal about the MRI’s.
By this time, the neurologist had a hunch that I had MS, and couldn’t
understand why nothing showed up. He sent me to a colleague in North
Carolina who said that he didn’t know what the problem was, but felt that it
was caused by a virus. He recommended that I start IV steroid therapy, and
recommended another MRI in a few months.
My local neurologist did not think that steroid therapy was appropriate, and
ordered an immediate repeat MRI of brain and neck. When nothing abnormal was
found, he told me not to come back unless something new came up.
As my symptoms got worse, and my neurologist was unwilling to think of
anything other than MS, I self referred myself to a Movement Specialist at a
large center five hours away. With no records, save copies of my MRI films,
this neurologist said that my symptoms were psychosomatically caused. He
said that my symptoms wouldn’t get any worse and had a 50 % chance of
improving.
I felt that the reason the M.D. S. came up with this diagnosis was because
of his belief that the death of my son had caused this physical response. In
my research, I found that this type of reaction is caused by an immediate
response to a crisis, especially when a person tries to cover it up. I
didn’t think that this was the problem because I was open with my family,
and it had been five years since Michael’s death.
My GP referred me to a psychiatrist to find out if there was a basis for the
Movement Specialist’s findings. The psychiatrist diagnosed me with
depression, but found no reason why my mental condition caused my physical
condition.
Today my symptoms have gotten to a point where I use a cane outside the
house, and a wheelchair when shopping. My symptoms are still concentrated on
the right side and include, among others: bradykinesia, tremors (mostly
pill-rolling and fine tremors), getting “stuck” for short periods, pain, leg
jerks when trying to sleep, fatigue, problems in thinking straight,
sometimes substituting wrong words when talking, foot-dragging, fatigue, and
right-sided weakness.
Maybe someday I will start looking for the shingle painted, “Diagnostician,”
but in the meantime, I will mount my trusty steed and set out in search of
the Holy Grail, once again.
Kathy
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Kathy Maggio; Married for 31 years to a gorgeous man. We and have had six children:
Carina (29), Tony (28), Angel (26), Dominic (22), Michael (deceased at
age 11), Maria (17), and two grandchildren.
Received college degree and teaching license in 1998.
Volunteer board member for adults and children with
disabilities. Authored several children’s stories published
nationally. Became ill at age 48 (2001).
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