I left his office, not really knowing very much more about what was causing my problems but very comfortable with the knowledge that I'd found a doctor who would listen to my questions and didn't mind talking to me at length. This was refreshing because I have been to doctors who always seemed too busy for a lengthy discussion. They seemed more concerned with the patients in the waiting area instead of the one in the exam room.
So, I visited Dr. Terry Forrest, who concluded that I had papilledema, swelling of the optic nerve and optic disc, most likely caused, he thought, by a condition called pseudotumor cerebri. It is called pseudotumor because it presents with many of the same symptoms even though there is no tumor present. It is most likely caused by increased intracranial pressure, often related to too much cerebrospinal fluid. One possible treatment is repeated lumbar punctures, “spinal taps”, to draw off excess fluid. Another is the insertion of a shunt into the brain, and the excess fluid is drained through a tube placed under the skin until it is finally emptied into the abdominal cavity. Dr. Forrest said that before we considered referrals to doctors for possible treatments, he would discuss his opinion with Dr. Fullington, who would most likely want to order a CT scan, to make sure there wasn't a tumor.
As it turned out, Dr. Fullington was on vacation, but apparently Dr. Forrest felt it important enough to be insistent and spoke to one of his partners, and on Friday, March 8, 2002, I got a call from a nurse. “Mr. Price,” she said. “ They want to do a CT of your head. It's at 3:00 on Monday at Wayne Radiologists. Don't eat anything on Monday and come by our office and pick up the paperwork you'll need. I'm thinking “Cool, they're taking aggressive action to find out what's wrong” but also “Oh no! , they must think there's a good chance there's a tumor, and it seemed that brain tumors were all I could think about over the weekend. Of course, with any kind of tumor, there's always the fear of cancer, but my fear went beyond the obvious fear of cancer. The thought of something growing in my brain, whether cancer or not was horrifying. What kind of damage might it do. In the reading I'd done, I'd learned that no brain tumor is really benign. Oh, it may be benign in the sense that it isn't cancer, but not in the dictionary's definition sense of benign meaning “ harmless.” It's illogical to think that something can grow in your brain, inside your skull, where there is limited space to expand and be harmless. Therefore, the tumors are “malignant by location.” In other words, it's not cancer, but it's located in an especially sensitive area. All of my life, I've considered myself a fairly intelligent and talented person. My mental faculties have played a large role in defining my self-image. If I had a brain tumor, something growing and compressing on my brain for an unknown duration, the damage it would do to my brain would probably result in the same kind of damage to my self-image. Especially given the period of unemployment I had been experiencing, and nothing zaps your self-image quite like the feeling that you're incapable of caring for your family. The weekend passed, as they normally do, and the sun broke on another Monday morning, but not just any Monday morning. This afternoon at 3:00, I would have a CAT scan to see if I had a brain tumor. Also, early this evening, my wife would host a bridal shower for my brother's fiancée.
I left home and stopped by the doctor's office to pick up the orders, head CT with contrast ( dye) and proceeded to Wayne Radiologists. Once there, I had to sign the standard release forms warning because of the potential dangers of the dye, especially with diabetics. The dye can cause kidney damage, and diabetics are predisposed to kidney problems, so the risk is even greater. I felt better, though, when the technician explained to me that one of my earlier blood tests had been for kidney function and that my results were such that the dye should not be a problem. Of course, you have to After signing all of the forms, anyway, She got me in place on the table of the machine, which can seem threatening when seen for the first time. She then tried to find a vein where she could inject the dye. It wasn't easy. She started on my forearm, then my hand and my wrist. No matter where she tried, the vein would collapse. By this time, I had dripped a nice puddle of blood on the floor. She looked at me and said. “ Mr Price, if someone walked in and saw all of this blood, they'd think I was performing an abortion.” It was a tactless attempt at humor, but with good intentions, to make me less nervous. My attempt at a witty comeback was equally tactless “No,” I said. “I'm Catholic. They'd know better than that.” One last try in my hand found a good vein. She gave me the standard warnings that I might get a hot flushed feeling and metallic taste from the dye. I lay there watching the red light spin around my head, waiting apprehensively for those sensations but they did not come At least, not until later. Since my wife was hosting the bridal shower at our house, I took our son to Pizza Hut for supper. In the middle of our pizza, I got the strangest metallic taste in my mouth. Suddenly, I thought I was indeed that one in gazillion to have the worst reaction to the dye and wondered if it were my fate to collapse and die there in the Pizza Hut in front of my ten-year-old son, but it soon passed, and I was fine, except for a minor headache.
