On Thursday, April 12th 2007, I went to the doctor. Mostly because of recurring headaches, but there were a few recent troubling symptoms as well. I did not have a primary care physician here in Austin, so I just went to the closest clinic I could find.
The exam was fairly routine, right up until I stumbled and lost my balance at the end of the visit. The doctor called from the doorway to a nurse and asked her to put in a call across the street to see if they could fit in one last patient. It was already 4:30 PM.
The nurse appeared in the doorway, barely leaving me time to ask any questions of the doctor and reported that they would make time. It was at this point, that I heard the phrase for the first of three times that afternoon, “Mr. Cotcher, if you have the time, I think you should go across the street for a CT scan.”
How do you respond to that, other than to go?
I was greeted at the door across the street by a radiology technician. Follow me. Lay down here. Don’t look directly into the blue light. I didn’t have time to get nervous, let alone ask any questions.
I hadn’t even gotten comfortable on the scanning table it seemed before I heard the door open and realized the scanner was turning off.
“Mr. Cotcher, I am the radiologist on duty. I have to tell you, I see something in your head that does not look right.”
Dead serious and without hesitation, I looked around the room and asked him, “I hear that from my fiancee all the time! I didn’t realize you two knew each other!”
Clearly the quip caught him off guard. Here he was, trying to deliver serious news and he had a patient that didn’t know any better that was cracking jokes. “I think it would be best to skip the CT scan, and do an MRI of your head.”
“Sure thing,” I said. “Are you talking about right now, or is this something you want me to schedule?”
“If you have the time, I think we should do it now.”
That was twice. I was now officially starting to get nervous.
Between a change into and back out of a hospital gown, I was stuck with an IV, stuffed down a tube that was too narrow and subjected to a cacophony of magnets that was enough to make any sane person fill with self-doubt.
But that was not the worst part. The radiologist was waiting for me outside my changing room and greeted me with, “I have your scan up in office. I think you should see it.”
I agreed and followed him to his office utterly unprepared for the news I was about to receive.
“See this colored mass here?” he asked. “That shouldn’t be there.”
He proceeded to show me about a half-dozen different images of this ‘mass’. He showed me how it was wrapped around my brainstem. He showed me how it was blocking the flow of cerebrospinal fluid to and from my brain. He was using CGI diagnostic tools to measure the mass and telling me that it had probably been slowly growing for “at least ten years” in order to be as large as it was.
“I already put in a call to the top neurosurgeon in Austin. I went ahead and sent him a copy of your images. Did you drive here?”
“Sure,” I said. “How do I get in touch with this neurosurgeon?”
“He told me he could meet you at Brackenridge Hospital. Do you know where that is?”
“Wait a minute,” I stammered. “Do you mean right now, or sometime in the next few days?”
“Now. If you have the time…”
Matt, you had Dr. Kemper as your neurosurgeon, right? He was the doctor who removed my dad’s brain tumor years back, he is an amazing doctor.
Looks good Matt…and well written OF COURSE!
Clever blog name, I like it. That is a phrase can have a lot of meanings. Time is often taken for granted; glad you decided not to….
Good luck in the consultation.
I keep telling people your new insurance plan went into place on 4/2 and how lucky we were to get you in under the wire. Just 10 days later you would be using it, big time!
Don’t know if there’s more of this posted, if not, keep going!
Your posting is so well written and invokes memories of my own ER visit, where I was told a very similar story about my head. I know that I went through it, but I still cannot wrap my arms around the fact that it happened to me. As I sit here, I feel incredibly blessed to have come throught it the way I did. Blessed, thankful and grateful. Great posting.
Matt, caught your blog trying to investigate what’s going on with my daughter. She has been having double vision since the end of the summer and no other neurological symptoms. She is 18 and reluctant to talk about it (makes her scared), we have an appt with an eye specialist but of course, we had to wait. Did you have double vision before your first appointment? I’ve seen that prism glasses have been recommended with diplopia and vision therapy too…but scared we might be in for something more serious.