Moving Fast

Yesterday I returned to Hopkins for follow-up appointments. I saw my sweetheart, Dr. Maragakis, at 8 a.m. and Dr. Witham, the neurosurgeon, at noon. Dr. Maragakis said, "Looking good!" upon first seeing me, which is not true. Don't worry, I still trust him. After his exam and our discussion of my symptoms, including my recent, excruciating low-back pain, he had a few observations. My palsies (doesn't the word "palsies" sound as if it should be old-fashioned underwear?) have improved, as has my leg muscle tone and the strength in my arms. My gait is not as spastic as it was. Of course, my eyes are better, too; Dr. M. suggested that maybe the double vision was the result of intracranial pressure, which apparently can be caused by spinal cord injury (or pregnancy), or, once again, maybe the whole mess was an autoimmune response to pregnancy. The remaining issues of concern are my hand, which is still numb & tingling, but which we at least know to be related to my cervical spine damage, and my right hip flexor. This is the muscle that you use to lift your foot off the floor when sitting, or to move your leg forward as you walk. My right hip flexor is unaccountably and extremely weak. In the end, Dr. Maragakis decided to order a full-spine MRI, to double-check my neck & thoracic spine, as well as take a look at the lumbar. (Somehow, a lumbar MRI was never done during the whole Diagnosis-palooza. How can that be?) A lumbar disk problem would account for both the low-back pain and the hip flexor problem, apparently. I have that kind of back pain I hope you haven't experienced -- when I cough hard (I have a bad cold), it's as if my back collapses. Sometimes I even involuntarily sit because my back just gives out. Plop. Anyway, I'm glad he ordered the MRI. I would like to either be sure nothing is wrong or to know what's there so we can fix it. The MRI has an added advantage, which is that it would show multiple-sclerosis-related lesions, if they are there. MS apparently remains one of the few possible (though remotely so) diagnoses out there. As Dr. M said, "I'm not crazy about calling it MS." That's the kind of cute & dorky thing he says. I'm not crazy about it, either. In all seriousness, he says it's quite unlikely to be MS, but if it is, it could be years before another flare-up happens. Dr. M considered doing another spinal tap, again to look for MS markers, but he's decided to put that off for now (oh, boo-hoo). Although he hasn't said it in so many words, he seems to think that the explanation that this was an autoimmune response to pregnancy is more likely. All I know is, this was my first trip inside Hopkins' walls without a walker, stretcher, or wheelchair, so I'll take that and be glad of it. The MRI is scheduled for 2/22.

I had a lot of time to kill between appointments, so I bought a magazine and some food, but much as if I were at the airport, I really just watched the world go by (and thought about the metal in my neck -- more about that later). At a hospital, obviously there are an inordinate number of people using canes, walkers, or wheelchairs, or suffering other kinds of impaired movement. I saw a lot of them, of all ages, but mostly elderly. I also saw a few professional-looking women, in serious pantsuits and heels, fully able and stalking the hallways. And I saw a mother, about my age, dressed in jeans and sneakers like me, pushing a stroller with twins. She was moving quickly to get out of the rain. It was that mother who made me start thinking about walking.

I used to walk really fast. For exercise, when I exercised, I walked at 4 mph on a treadmill or outside. At the office, in the mall or grocery store, I walked so fast, even in heels, that tall men had trouble keeping up with me. Of course, all that speedwalking was born of tension and stress, but it got me where I was going, and it gave me a feeling of purposefulness that I certainly would have lacked otherwise. Kind of like when you intentionally smile in an effort to try to feel happier. I realized as I watched that mom and those businesswomen that I have actually forgotten what it feels like to move that way. It looked so effortless! I'll bet they don't even notice how easy it is to motor along. Maybe they huff and puff a bit when chasing toddlers or the Metro, but it's just a given that they can jog for a minute, even in those 3-inch heels, without a problem. And walking? Especially strolling hand-in-hand with someone, or walking through the bookstore or a park? Completely, unconsciously unremarkable. Or, if examined, a pleasant experience. It's been so long since I felt that way. I wonder if I ever will again. I suppose that if I recover completely, I'll eventually forget what it felt like not to be able to walk. But I actually hope I don't forget, because if I do completely recover, I would like to stay grateful forever.

Abby's life is moving too fast, as well. In response to a question, Papa (my stepfather-in-law) told someone at work recently that Abby was about 6 weeks old. Try 12 weeks tomorrow! She is laughing now, and babbling, and starting to be interested in toys and in how to make her bouncy seat bounce of her own accord. The constant, monotonous fulfillment of another person's every need is very wearing, I'll admit, but the intimacy of our mother-daughter time during this maternity leave is precious to me. I can't believe that soon, her life will be filled with other people and she'll spend much of her awake time doing things I don't even know about. I'm not ready for her to grow so fast.

Oh, incidentally, speaking of growing, Dr. Witham took a look at the x-rays I had done of my neck. It looks as though the remnants of my bones are fusing nicely to Ms. Cadaver's disks, so the surgery was a success. The ghostly images on the x-ray look like cells dividing -- but in reverse. Two wholes merging to become one. And there's this big ladder of titanium in there, which shines like runway lighting in the image. Speaking of runways, I've been told my bionic neck won't set off airport metal detectors, and it won't interfere with MRI's. We'll see. And I must say, if a big chunk of titanium like that can pass through TSA's crack detection web, then how safe are we on America's airlines?
Anyway.

One last observation, apropos of nothing. I am a nervous parent. I don't want to be, and I fervently hope that as Abby Jane gets older, I will ease up. But right now, it's hard for me to feel like I'm letting her down in any way. Am I giving her enough tummy time, or intellectual stimulation (of course not, according to What to Expect -- sigh). Has she suddenly decided she doesn't like formula at all, and is that why she cries even during a feeding sometimes? Is my deep, raspy, sore-throat voice scaring her? What does she think about this klutzy Golden Retriever or the cat peeing everywhere? Is that wheezing she's doing, or laughing? What harm am I doing to her little psyche by being nervous all the time?? You get the picture. There isn't enough time in the day to talk myself back into my senses and to stop being silly. I think I'll just nap instead, while she's sleeping. The cat, meanwhile, is tearing around the house, no doubt feeling giddy freedom while the dog is outside. He's moving really fast.