Wednesday, December 28, 2011

The Statue of My Discontent

A while back, I told you all about needing to go to a Neurologist (and her student pet who tested me at length, and had the audacity to allow me to leave and mingle among normal humans until the results came back) about my memory issues.  Well, I probably said something totally disingenuous about following up with you.

In the interest of keeping everyone on their toes, I AM following up with you. 

I went back in to see the chick that gave me the tests that made me feel as if I was moments away from a meeting with some large strong men who would lead me into a soft lair where I could drool myself into oblivion. I know, I'm a glutton for punishment.  And, since they let me leave the first go-round, I figured I was pretty safe this time as well.

So I go in, and we touch base, and she asks me if there have been any changes. Well, it's been a whole freaking month, so OF COURSE things have changed. I'm well into my supply of mirtazapine for sleep, which I have to cut in half on the days I want to drive like a sane person before 9 am. Which makes me not sleep.  But I have to still take it to keep it in my system, because it needs to build up to be truly helpful, because it's a mood stabilizer, that happens to make people sleepy. (Why is it that my depression is worse and I now have anxiety, since being put on antidepressants for pain, and a mood stabilizer for sleep?) I am however sleeping better, and enjoying the hell out of that.

(Sorry, another side track...)

I have never been a sleeper-inner.  Sleeping in is for people who are sick, or lazy. Now, all of a sudden, 6 may wake me, but 6:15 is like Unisom.  All I have to do is close my eyes for a couple moments, and poof.  Done. Next thing I know, I'm up, shuffling to the potty and the world is going on without me. Sky King is up, coffee is made, the kiddos are well into their snuggly blanket-underpants-cartoon-cereal fest.  I can even go to bed at 9, and not wake significantly until 9 the next day.  Before you get all, "that means you're getting too much sleep" on me, shut your whore mouth.  I'm different.  Special.  So special, I get to sleep as long as my body wants to/can. Because I have "sleep disturbances" like grinding my teeth, talking in my sleep, smacking my mouth, coughing, and light snoring. And this means I do not get good sleep, and probably have not gotten good sleep in a looooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnggggggggggggg time. I know I ground/grinded? my teeth since at least the age of 12, so I got some serious catching up to do. And since I'm a perfectionist, I'm really going to apply myself. Jammies will become my new work-wear.

Okay, I'm back.  So, I am catching up with my neuro student, and we are talking about sleep. Then, we talked about my Rheumy, Dr. W  whom I hate with the intensity of a thousand suns, for dismissing my symptoms as offshoots from depression.  She understood, and encouraged me to get a new one, which we all know I did.  She also said to find a new primary, which I have been totally meaning to, but I FORGOT.  She doesn't laugh at the irony, which makes me hate her just a little. Then, we talked about the need to make sure the meds are all working, and to get into psych for one person to manage all the meds, so that there are no problems combining, which makes a certain amount of sense. And, since that money tree in the backyard started spouting $20s, I'm flush with co-pays.

Then, it was on to the results portion of the visit. She said there's a short version, and a long version. The short version is this:

I'm a freaking genius.  People will one day erect statues of me to show their children what true brilliance looks like.

The long story is this:
In actuality, they DID test my intelligence, because then they do tests on things like rote memory, reasoning, spatial reasoning, etc. and compare it to people just as dumb, or smart, as I am. So, they need to know what kind of moron I am to begin with, so they can properly assess my results.  Turns out, I'm one smart cookie. Then, it also turns out, I did exceptionally well on all portions of the test. Which means that, 1) That statue is moments away*, 2) Something really amazing is going to be discovered soon*, and 3) they don't know anything more than they did two months ago. They don't know why I forget to pay bills I have the money for, why I have conversations I can't recall, why I put cereal away in the fridge and ice cream away in the pantry. It ain't because I'm a dumb ass, apparently. And, it doesn't seem to be because there's something amiss in the noggin. So, they are even more confused.  Maybe I'm so damned smart, I will discover what is wrong with myself.  Wouldn't that be a kick in the pants?

So we are pretty much right where we were a while ago. And, I said that already, but I can't remember saying it. And I don't need an MRI to confirm they don't know anything more about me, or why I can't remember. Got it?

Me neither. But, I don't need to take a Valium and hang out in an MRI tube for an hour, so I'm cool with it all.

yadda yadda yadda. Not much, but something. Now, if I could only get her to jot down that IQ for future use:

Me: :::parallel parking downtown by work, using my rear-view camera to get within a millimeter of the bumper behind me, making sure to give each bumper a gentle kiss with my bumper:::

Stranger: What the fuck? Are you a complete moron? You totally hit my Nova, bitch! Now I gotta get it hammered out, and detailed.
Me: No, sir.  In fact, you can see right here (as I pull out my handy dandy IQ card) I'm actually quite brilliant. So brilliant I don't have room in my brain for dealing with mediocre shit like proper parking. It's called a bumper for a reason. Otherwise, it'd be called a "non-bumper" or an "avoider". Go fuck yourself.


Sky King: Hey, sweetie? Why did you put the ice cream away in the pantry?
Me: Because being at room temperature brings out the mocha-y goodness. And then I can drink it with the straw without going through the hassle of blending it, and dirtying up the blender, which you would have to clean, because I'm late for my nap. That's me, being thoughtful. You're welcome.

That is what all those extra IQ points get you.  Totally worth it, right?

*It is highly unlikely that there will be a statue of me erected any time soon. And if there was, I'm pretty sure it would not inspire much, except maybe a repeal of the 1st Amendment. Also, I don't anticipate discovering what the hell is wrong with me, unless Dr. Google gets a lot smarter. I didn't take chemistry-I took "senior Science" because i didn't want pesky studying to interfere with teenage sex

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