I haven’t posted any new stories on Hometown Matters for a couple of weeks because a mysterious malady, that acted a lot like COVID, put me out of commission.
In the interest of full disclosure I should say that I may not have contracted COVID. But chances are good that I did.
My body was wracked with extreme fatigue, pain, confusion, loss of memory and impatience. As a bona fide workaholic the guilt of doing nothing only made matters worse.
I couldn’t stand easily, let alone walk. Brain fog would not allow me to put thoughts together. Words, that are the tools of my life’s work, were just gone. I knew what I wanted to say but could not call up the words. Trying to read the computer screen – where I do most of my reading these days – hurt my eyes.
At first I ruled out COVID. I had two shots and one booster. I did not have a cold, sore throat, or loss of taste that are the most often reported symptoms of COVID. I was just feeling really bad.
My husband Bob was impatient, if not downright scared. “We need to get you to the doctor,” he said. But I kept thinking I would get better.
Finally after two weeks with no relief in sight, I decided that I had probably had COVID and did a home test. The results produced only one line on the test panel, which meant negative. However the home test instruction that said negative tests for persons who actually have COVID are possible – not frequent but very possible. The Centers for Disease Control said the same thing. “Negative results, may not rule out infection, particularly in those with COVID-19 symptoms,” the CDC reported.
I concluded that I had probably had a non life-threatening course of COVID and that I would eventually pull out of it. When I finally went to the doctor’s office, the nurse practitioner came to the same conclusion. She said what I described to her sounded a lot like COVID, that after the disease runs part of course tests won’t reveal a positive result.
This not the first time I put off seeking medical help. When it comes to visiting a doctor, I have been a chronic procrastinator. In the most extreme example of putting off seeking help, in the 1970s I had a back ache – a tough and long-lasting back ache. When I finally started seeing a doctor, I distinctly remember saying over and over, “I’m getting better.” That was hopeful thinking. I should have said I was trying harder. When I reached a point that I could not stand, an MRI revealed that I had a very advanced tumor wrapped around the nerves inside my spinal canal. I had been nursing this thing for at least three years.
I visited a renown California neurosurgeon, whose plain talk is still hard to believe. “If it’s cancer no one can help you,” he said. “If it is not cancer I can help you walk again.”
It took the blunt talker and another neurosurgeons five hours to carefully scrape the tumor off my nerves and spine. It turned out to be a benign meningioma. This happened on November 2, 1976. The day Jimmy Carter was elected president. The date is imbedded in my brain because I lay awake all night listening to election results. And three years of crippling pain was gone. The following morning the doctor said that I was lucky but they had done some damage to the nerves to my left leg. I might walk with aid for the rest of my life, but I would walk.
I was luckier than even the straight talking doctor suggested. I have had 45 years of walking. Only in the last decade have I needed aid to walk. My greatest helper has been my husband Bob, who is always at my side so I can hold onto his arm for stability. During my recent malady he cooked, cleaned, did laundry, shopped and kept me supplied with water and coffee. I was well cared for.
At some point in recent years I became aware that acquaintances were noticing how unstable I had become. When I found myself stranded on a steep hillside, at the top of an outdoor staircase with no rail at Pacific High or Jensen’s Point, an alert acquaintance would step up to help me. One person after another, without mentioning that I looked like I might fall, has offered me stabilizing hand.
I’m writing about this now to explain my inactivity on Hometown Matters in recent days and to let readers know that I have not abandoned community news. As my strength returns I will look around for the stories that define our community.
But also I’d like to remind readers, that the sooner maladies and tumors are identified and treated the better the chances are for a good outcome. In our town there are always people who will give you a hand if you need it. But you would probably do yourself a favor if you seek help as soon as you know something is wrong.
You can likely see that I’m having a better day today. If you have a good story that needs to be told, send me a note to [email protected].
