Well said, Edith.  After a fatalist, an egotist and a know-it-all, we have a
wonderful neuro now (one who really listens) but, as you say, nothing is
perfect.  It IS difficult to get through "in between times."  Such is life .
. . a balancing act.

Carole M.  ;-)

-----Original Message-----
From: edith love <[log in to unmask]>
To: [log in to unmask] <[log in to unmask]>
Date: Tuesday, September 10, 2002 9:38 PM
Subject: The Neuro Experience-From Where I Stand; Part 1


>Dear Bob and Janine,
>
>I've been grappling with your off-the-wall, unbelievable experience since
>you posted.  To travel that far under normal conditions would be difficult.
>To travel that far and to be treated so poorly is inexcusable!
>
>For what it's worth, you two, I'd surely like to see what would happen if
>you sent your post to the doctor, the hospital administration and the state
>medical board.
>Are you game?
>
>With your permission, I'd like to share my entrance into the world of
>neurological
>"What do you have?"
>
> At some point in the Fall of 1995, my retirement year, not too long after
>school started, I awoke one Sunday out of the blue and couldn't move.
>Frankly, I was too mystified/petrified to figure time length-I'd had no
>warning signs.
>
>When whatever it was passed, my arms dangled at my sides like an ape's, my
>body was quite stiff and my ability to walk was impaired.   I had classes
to
>teach, and my 32nd year to complete.
>
>Prior to this experience, I'd had my yearly checkup.  Since I had been
>diagnosed with Epstein Barr years before, had a few other symptoms to deal
>with and since tests came out ok, my internist figured I was just fatigued.
>At soon to be 65, I was doing the usual--working too hard.  The one thing
he
>didn't see was how I walked.
>
>How I did it I still don't know.  It was a beautifully successful school
>year.  Yet I can only remember praying that I could get from my classroom
to
>the school library!
>
>It was the night of my retirement party, maybe six months later, that the
>doc saw me walk.  He apologized profusely and said that we'd set up an
>appointment with the clinic's neuro.   And so he did.
>
>By then I had checked medical books and knew my symptoms seemed to fit the
>PD profile.   Loaded with the information I had, I went to my appointment.
>The  doctor's name was Hope.  That was all I needed.  When he walked in, I
>said, "Your name is Hope and my name is Love.  Perhaps together, we can
>discover what is wrong with me."
>
>He became infuriated.  Life in the " little room" went down hill from
there.
>I was
>"examined" for what should have been 20 minutes (I checked my  watch).  The
>doctor took off 5 of those minutes to either check a resource or to go to
>the bathroom.  I'm not sure which.   At the conclusion of nothing, he
looked
>at me and said  (and this is verbatim)  "There's nothing wrong with you.
>You are old .  Your body has taken some lumps.  You'll just have to learn
to
>compensate."   With that, he left the examining room.
>
>I was stunned.  By then in tears, I left the room with my good-old list in
>my hand.
>
>The next day, teary eyed I called my internist.  What followed three months
>later was a  2 1/2 hour, extremely complete examination at the university
>neuro clinic where
>I was diagnosed as, "It could be PD."
>
>That was about 6+ years ago.  Since that time, as most of you know, the
>Stranger  Within is a no name, and as long as I, and others like me, are
>assigned to the PD umbrella, no one will ever find truth should there be
>such!  That, however, is not the purpose of this  epistle.
>
>My second neuro retired.  Now, I am privileged to have an extremely
>intelligent, sincere, caring neuro who refuses no one, is ready to do
>anything for a patient during appointment time, but can seldom if ever be
>reached in between because of the need for this doctor's specially which is
>PD.   Life isn't perfect.  We are strange bedfellows.  I'm a clinical
study.
>This is a neuro I trust.
>
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