My Battle Part 3

It was February 21, 2006, a Tuesday that I will NEVER forget.

I was home watching Amy, Emma and Stephen. Mom had just left to take Kara and her friend Naomi to the mall. Naomi was (and still is) Kara's best friend, and she was spending the week at our house. They decided to go and do something together that day, and thus going to the mall as a result.

I had slept about 11 hours that night, and I was not feeling up to doing anything at all. I can remember being kind of irritated that I was once again left at home to watch my siblings. It seemed to happen a lot that year. Not to mention that I was worried that I was just going to die one day, so I didn't want to be left alone.

I was in my room when the phone rang. Amy answered it. And the next thing I know, I'm being told that Mom completely forgot about another eye appointment I was scheduled for, and she remembered when she passed it on the way to the mall. I don't remember if she asked me if I just wanted to cancel it, or if she was just going to cancel it herself. But something made her change either her or my mind. I'm pretty sure I didn't want to go. This was like the 8th eye appointment I was supposed to have in like 3 weeks. Nothing had changed. So why would it now?

Needless to say, Mom turned the van around and came home to get me right away. She dropped Kara and Naomi off, and I ran out the garage door and jumped in the van (causing my head to want to explode once again.)

We got to the optometrist and they took me right away since we were late. I knew something was wrong when I was sitting in the "examination chair" and he started shining these lights in my eyes with these things that looked like a magnifying glass. I could barely hold my eye open. My eyes by now were very sensitive to light. And this was like torture.

The thing was, it lasted for an extremely long time. Then the Dr. said "I'll be right back," and he walked out of the room and I could hear him talking with my mother. I couldn't make out what he was saying because he spoke in such quiet tones. But I could tell my mother was worried. "What does that mean?" I could hear her say, and "What do you do about that?" and "When can we get that done?"

My head hurts. I just had a bright light shined in my eyes for what seemed like hours. I just wanted to leave that place and go home to sleep.

Then the Dr. came back in and told me I could leave. THANK GOD. Well my mother was in a panic. And she told me that I needed to have an MRI right away. What on earth is that? I wondered. Then I realized it was like that thing I saw on tv where there's a lady laying on a hospital bed and they stick her in a tube. Hmm...interesting. What on earth did that do to you? How far did it take you back? Did it hurt? Was I finally going to learn what the heck is wrong with me? Was I going to die? These are the things that were going through my mind. I can remember the nurse/office manager calling around to see if they had any available appointments within the next few days, but the soonest they said they could fit me in was March. So I was going to have to wait until then.

On the way home, mom explained to me that there was pressure on my optic nerve on the back of both my eyes, and significantly in my right eye. The doctor said that he had another lady a few weeks ago who had the same thing. And nothing was wrong. It was just some sort of fluke thing, and that probably was the case with me as well. It was a condition they called Papilledema.

To my 12 year old mind, I had no idea what any of this meant. What is your optic nerve? Is this a really bad thing? Could I die from this? Why do I have to wait so long? Why do I need an MRI?

We got home, and Mom called Dad to tell him what was going on and that I was scheduled for an MRI in March. Almost as soon as she hung up, the phone rang. It was someone from the Radiology department at Westmoreland Hospital. They said they had a cancellation for the next day and wondered if we could be there first thing in the morning. Of course that was an answer to prayer and she said yes. I think I slept the rest of the day since I don't remember much.

The next morning, I was up bright and early and we were on our way to the hospital. I never liked being at the hospital to visit anyone or anything because to me, that was the place where old sick people go. And I was not old, and I really wasn't sick. I was just in pain. So we found the Radiology department, and they asked me a ton of questions like "Do you have any metal shavings in your skin? Do you have any bullets in your body? Any prosthetic body parts? Was I wearing any jewelry? Did I wear a watch? etc." Strange I thought. Why do they need to know all this? And why on earth would I have a bullet in me? I haven't been shot. Has anyone my age ever been shot? Weird. I was wearing a watch, and they made me take it off, and also take everything I had in my pockets out. I must have been wearing jeans, because I had a belt on. But apparently they did not realize that. And they didn't ask me.

The next thing I know, they are putting an IV in my arm. That was no big deal, but I had no clue why. I'm not scared of needles, and such small amounts of pain were no longer an issue. They said it was so they could do contrast...that meant nothing to me. I just wanted to it to be over with. So they asked me my height/weight, adjusted the bed thing, and put me on it. They covered me with a blanket and gave me ear plugs. Then they said that the hardest part was going to be that I had to lay absolutely still for at least 45 minutes. I figured that would be easy since I was allowed to fall asleep. hahaha...there's no sleeping in those things. It was so loud. Clicking, banging, squeaking, pounding, screetching, etc. You name a noise, that machine made it. Every few minutes, I moved further back into the tube. They had strapped my head down, so there was really no way I could even move it.

Since this was February, I was preparing for my first year of JV Bible Quizzing which was the first week of March. So during the MRI, I was reciting the verses and questions I had memorized to myself. It's the small things like that, that can give me comfort. And I was praying the whole time.

When it was all over, we had to wait while they printed out the films from the scan. This hospital had not yet converted to digital equipment. So it took quite a while to print out every picture. Then we went to visit my primary care doctor.

They took us back to the lit up screens where they put the MRI films up, just like an xray. The doctor said he didn't know how to interpret pictures of the brain. But from what he could tell, something wasn't right. And he said there I could possibly have a tumor.

WHAT??? A TUMOR? I really am going to die. GOD NO! Please! I don't want to die!

The Dr. told us we needed to go to Children's Hospital and see a neurologist there. And so he called and got us an appointment for that day, about 2 hours later. Mom did not want to drive me into Pittsburgh, so she called Dad and since this was becoming even more serious as the day went on, he wanted to take me. By the time we got home, Dad was already there and had changed clothes and was ready to jump in the car and drive.

Little did I know, that day I was finally going to find out what was wrong with me.

...to be continued in part 4.