When I got there, I could only sit around shooting birds into the air, trying to smash rotten egg-stealing piggies. This is because UC Davis is very serious about their "no cell phone" policy, and make it so that anyone who enters the building not only does not have service, but they take it one step further. Somehow the tech people at UC Davis have made it so that your phone roams at some ridiculous rate, depleting battery life. I am on to their tricks though, and I put my phone to "airplane mode". Suck it, UC Regents.
After annihilating some piggies, I get called. I go on back, and sit in a new chair, set to destroy more piggies. Two women come in, and I cease the destruction, in favor of good manners. Those Angry Birds will have to wait.
The women turn out to be the main doctor, and a person working on her residency-I can't recall her name....HA!!! I'm there for memory problems and I CAN'T RECALL HER NAME!!! No? Never mind. I will call her Alicia.
So Dr. F and Alicia sit down and tell me what to expect, and we talk at length about what I think the problem is. I tell them about fibro fog (a condition that may or may not have medical basis where people with fibromyalgia act as if they are complete morons and/or lunatics, which SOMETIMES is different from how they normally act. Look it up.). We then go on to what my concerns are.
I forget the word I am trying to say, for every day items. For instance, I might say, "You know, one of those doors that are see-through, used to keep bugs out?" A Screen. I know, now. But usually, I can't remember these stupid little words. The other thing I can't remember is things like taking my medications, getting to appointments, paying bills on time. I have made many accommodations, but still make errors, and I would like it all to stop, thank you very much.
We take a short potty break, and only Alicia comes back, to do the pen-and-paper test portion.
The Q and A begins and partway through, I start to get a wee bit paranoid. She asks how my driving is, whether I get lost, whether I have accidents or near-misses (near-hits?) and whether I think of hurting myself or others -this is where I remember NOT to joke about strangling my children-they actually don't have the sense of humor you would expect about that kind of stuff. But the anxiety builds---First, what if I answer something wrong, and it means something worse is wrong than the things I already know? What if they decide, because of my answers, that I am unfit to drive or raise children or work with kids or something else I haven't even thought of?????? Holy Shit!!!!!!!
Maybe I forgot to mention I started a new medication yesterday?
Lemme back up---the other day, I went in for the Sleep Study Follow Up. After much discussion, we decided to try a sleep med that will work with Cymbalta to help me sleep but also reduce my anxiety. Because the Cymbalta is great for pain, but my anxiety has gotten worse. Nice for an antidepressant to do that, isn't it? So I got something, and tried it for the first time the night before the Neuro test. Dumb of me, turns out. Because it causes some fogginess in me, at least the first night, and now I'm in the middle of a test that will tell people if I am a headcase or not. Brilliant. And I can't seem to think clearly, and my mind is racing, and I am getting too hot in this tiny little room.
So after I have an internal panic attack that I may just get carried off my men in white coats if my answers are wrong, we move forward with the formal testing. It's a series of tests that are a lot like the assessment we do on the children in my child care center-take these blocks to make this picture; which figures make up this other figure; repeat this list of things; repeat this story to me, verbatim; what are these objects' names; what was that first list of things; which figure is repeated in this line; what is the circumference of the earth at the equator (seriously---- It's 24.9 thousand miles---I totally just got my $20 copay's worth); who was Mahatma Gandhi; what was that list of words; what is the next card in the pattern. VERY stressful. Not because I didn't like the test, per se. It was more that, "if I get something wrong, maybe it means something I don't even know about yet is wrong with me" kind of stress. Yes, I think things like that. No, I don't need shock therapy. Actually, maybe that will be their recommendation.....
The fun part of all this is this: I get to wait 4 weeks for the results.
I spewed my unhappiness with the process to a few close friends.
Husband: You're funny. When you left, were they all, "see you in 4 weeks" or more "see you in 4 weeks, but be careful around X, because you tested weird in that area".
Me: The first one.
Him: Hmm. Sounds like a "pass" to me.
Me: So I took a crazy test.
Pal: How did it go?
Me: I don't know, I have to wait 4 weeks.
Pal: But, they let you leave?
Pal: You must not be as crazy as you thought, or they wouldn't have let you leave.
Me: Good point.
All in all, I am not immediately dying, nor am I an immediate threat to myself or others. Goes to show what you know. Maybe I should have gotten that in writing?
that's one for the "Win" column, dontcha think?
UPDATE: Oh, and did I tell you my long 8 month quest for life insurance hinges on the results? No stress here. Nope.