So I’ve not mentioned Taking My Work Home With Me 2k14,aka Bad Hand 2k14, aka Mog’s Brain Goes Wrong And Forgets How To Operate Her Body 2k14 for a bit.
The backstory is that after awhile of some …well, interesting behaviour from my general physiology (I’ve never exactly been Thor but I did used to be able to eg: pick up a cup of coffee without having to rest it on my other forearm) and some warning signs that frankly a person who works for a Parkinson’s Disease charity should perhaps have err, thought to look into earlier, my right arm stopped working earlier this year. No biggie. The Bad Hand 2k14 tag has the full erm, saga in it but disappointingly, no one has replaced it with a badass metal killing machine and the closest I’ve come to joining Brainwashed Assassin School is my newfound ability to absentmindedly break into places like forensics labs and oversubscribed conventions by looking slightly grumpy.*
(A good way to get the measure of your friends is to work out who is suddenly wary of you when you become visibly phsyically buggered and who makes appalling jokes about it and spend more time and emotional energy with;the latter subset)
Anyway, since there didn’t really appear to be any:adequate explanation for why I’d acquired tremors in my limbs, I’ve been having some tests. The usual MRI/CAT (PRO TIP: DO NOT WATCH THE WINTER SOLDIER THE NIGHT BEFORE THIS) and some hideous things involving sticking electrodes in my fucking eyeballs (“you need to unclench your jaw” yes well you need to take this out of my fucking eye, m8) and a &;&;journey of self-discovery&;&; aka neuro-electrocution aka a needle the size of a drainpipe putting current through my arm which turns out to actually be err, kind of great. It’s good to find these things out about yourself. Also 147 of whatever the unit of electricity they use is the point at which my willful effort to hold my arm still, having misunderstood that they were looking for a twitch movement, breaks down completely and I nearly wang a guy across a room.
I don’t have any of the results yet, apart from my blood tests. Which showed my liver to be as pink and new as a baby’s (mutant powers, there) and that I do not take narcotics. Which I, err, knew. But I suppose they have to check or something.
So the day after Nine Worlds (August 12th) I am seeing a consultant. This feels like a very 2014 level of over-dramatisation in that I’ve been idly thinking things like ‘it’s going to be so good when I can stop organising a convention and get on with the rest of my life’ and;indeed, it very much will be The Rest Of My Life (Answers Edition) if they manage to draw any conclusions from the tests they’ve done so far. Or they might say they have no idea and I’ll need to do some more tests to find out why now both of my hands are kind of screwed.
(Actually my left arm is way worse currently- I can’t really feel much in it and it moves in a really irritatingly unarticulated way, like the joints aren’t functioning even though I know they are, if I manipulate them. I’ve had to get myself a plastic tumbler because I smashed a glass one by accidentally crushing it a few weeks ago and I don’t really want to cut my fingers off. Don’t let me down this way, Good Hand.)
There’s an element of bravado here, obviously because I don’t really want to know what degenerative neurological shit is going on with me. At least they’ve ruled out a brain tumor, I guess and I remembered to take out life insurance on myself pre-diagnosis, just in case- that said, that could be years and years off, given the speed at which these things move. I’m not in pain (the affected limbs are going numb, so it’s kind of the opposite in fact) just kind of awkward so I mean, could be a lot worse. I can get away without using a wrist brace about 75% of the time now, which is great because it would be such an ocean of sweat right now.
So it’s not too bad. And I don’t really have time or energy to worry about it, so I’m mostly not.
I’m not sure what they’re going to say in the appointment. The one I am genuinely shit-your-pants scared about is Motor Neurone Disease. Which is probably very unlikely but some idiot consultant mentioned it and obviously I googled the symptoms and in the way you can convince yourself you’re dying of anything if you use the internet-rope to make a lovely, reassuring noose and I don’t actually think there’s any chance at all I have it. Intellectually. Obviously the irrational part of my brain is already certain that I must.
So yeah, there you go, that’s the current situation with Neurology Shitfest 2k14 . Chums have been rly good about it- especially @it-was-justified, @triffidfarm, @dapperdanh and @kierongillen so I’m not like, drowning in tears and panic and things. It’s all very weird and slow but there’s something vaguely satisfying to the way it feels like things are just happening in an unpredictable, uncontrollable manner suitably reflective of the universe in general and I’m just sitting back and waiting for someone to finally fucking fit me with the awesome cyborg arm to go with my greasy unwashed bad-boy stylings.
*Ok possibly more than slightly grumpy.