Visiting my doctor was not very helpful. Rather than focus on what I was telling him, he seemed intent on finding out if I was depressed or not. I suppose it didn’t help matters that I was sat in front of him, near breaking point and unable to voice my real concerns.
But the second collapse had really shook me up. And while I have real empathy for anyone who suffers from the horrors of depression, that wasn’t what was wrong with me.
Eventually he was convinced that I needed some further help and/or investigations done.
So, I was pencilled in for a neurology appointment.
Again, the doctor wasn’t the most helpful - which is becoming a recurring theme - but he did decide to send me off for an MRI scan.
Given that the scan wasn’t completed until January of 2009 - some six months after the second collapse - I had honestly put all thoughts of being sick to the back of my mind. Apart from feeling tired and few headaches here and there, I felt fine.
Also, in October 2008 my darling boyfriend proposed, and my thoughts had been taken over by wedding preparations.
But when the MRI scan came round it did make me think - what if there is something wrong?
Then, the women operating the MRI explained that I would be in the tunnel for around 40 minutes, with four seperate scans being taken. I counted out the scans and was relieved it was over.
However, when I was taken out she explained that I actually needed two more scans done. It worried me that this was in addition to the usual procedure - and I did wonder if there was something amiss that she felt was worth investigating further.
But told myself that if anything was REALLY amiss then my neurologist would be duty bound to tell me asap - with nothing forthcoming from him, I put my head down and got on with organising my wedding.
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