It was early one March morning in 2013 when my arm started to tremor on its own. I was married at the time and my then-wife looked at me and said, “why are you doi… no why is your arm doing that?” I recall being worked up about something and I was also pretty sure that I had “slept funny” as we say when we wake up sore in places on our bodies we don’t even know we have.
“I’m just worked up! Let it go!” I said. I don’t recall any such tremor prior to that moment, but I immediately started to do everything I could to hide it. After all, if Vickie had noticed it that quickly, it probably isn’t going away. Remembering that my poor mother had to deal with constant questions before her cancer diagnosis when she appeared jaundiced, I spent days convincing myself, “people are asking because they cared, but I can’t help but think that they are also being ‘nebby’ and will they please just leave me the hell alone!” Deep down I knew. After all, as you read in the prior post, I had observed Paul’s living with PD, but I still hoped that I wasn’t travelling down that path.
Vickie arranged to have me see her PCP – we’ll call her “Dr. T.”^ – whom I had met and was instantly impressed by. But admittedly, I wasn’t too keen on the idea of seeing her as a patient. I was never a fan of doctors to be honest… and I was working at a radio station where the majority of the programming was focused on “alternative medicine” practices. Thankfully, the good doctor would be going on maternity leave for the summer, but she would be happy to see me upon her return.
It was October 23 before I was able to see her – 7 months after the tremor, which was still fairly minor, had begun. Vickie made a “distraction” appointment for herself merely to get me to go. Naturally her appointment was 2 minutes long with mine in the next room taking priority.
After checking my tone; looking up my nostrils; down my throat; etc. etc. Dr. T. said, “Well, it could be Essential or Resting Tremor which follow these criteria… or it could be Parkinson’s Disease. But I can’t tell you that, I need you to see a neurologist at the building next door. Make an appointment as soon as you can, it’s hard to get in over there, but it’ll be no matter where you go.”
I can’t remember the exact date, but it couldn’t have been more than 3 weeks later in the month of November that I saw a doctor at the office where Dr. T. sent me. But I remember the appointment was available the day after it was made. Admittedly I went into an instant panic over this. I was scared enough as it was. My mind went right for the anxiety and panic rather than the, “maybe we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
He was just a general neurologist and his name escapes me. But there I was on a table; Vickie nearby. Although I would say it wasn’t a “tip to tip” exam, he did a number of reflex tests and tone tests. Then, with a chuckle, he asked me, “have you done any manganese mining?” I tried to respond with the same sense of humor and said, “Oh yeah, I was just saying the other day how I needed to do more.”
We had a good laugh and then straightened up as he made his recommendations. “I am going to send you for blood work downstairs,” he said, “but on your way out I would ask that you make an appointment with a Movement Specialist here in the office.”
Now you would think that it would be easy to get an appointment when you are trying to diagnose a condition that isn’t going away. January 29 seemed a long way off – even in early- to mid-November.
I’m not always a patient patient.
Part 2 coming soon…
^Doctor names are redacted for privacy reasons.
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