Today’s song- which played on the Adult Rock station that K has uncharacteristically (oddly?) been listening to while we’ve been in Chicago- is The Beatles’ classic, “Yesterday””. It’s fitting my mood to a “T”.
Yesterday, I was all “Kiss the sky”, feeling hopeful about all these tests I’ve been undertaking. Today? After being electro-shocked and stabbed with tiny needles by way of an EMG and Nerve Conduction tests, I’m bitterly humming, “There’s a shadow hanging over me,” with Paul.
It’s almost done. I have a few more hours of saving my pee (stored in our mini-fridge), and one last meeting tomorrow morning with Dr. Allen, the neurologist who used me as a pin cushion today, and then I’m free.
Well, physically free. But mentally and emotionally, and I’m all kinds of caught up. I *should* know if I’m a candidate next Tuesday, when I’m supposed to get a call after Dr. Allen and Dr. Burt have a chance to consult. However, they could order more tests for me to do at home, dragging out the determination for weeks. Or they can say, “You’re in!”… which will lead to a battle royale with my insurance company.
Perhaps, at this point, you’re not quite understanding what this is all about (if you know, then we probably talk in real life, so you can skip this paragraph). I’m here in Chicago to find out if I’m a candidate for a stem cell transplant to be done at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. For the past year and a half, I’ve been consulting with the wonderful Paula, faxing forms, emailing records and asking some of the most inane questions about the process. Realistically, a stem cell transplant is the only option to put the CIDP in remission. So I’m here. Tomorrow we leave. Today, I wait. Yesterday, I was elated.
I’m not even sure if “I believe in yesterday”.