I went to a Sunday matinée of La La Land. I’d been ambivalent about it until Dwight surprised me with mild approval. And I liked it. I loved its feel and it was wonderful to forget about my problems for a while.
I thought the songs were particularly good. The lyrics were fabulous.
Then home for my favourite night of TV—my only night of TV—each week: Endeavour, Victoria and Wallander were on last night. Oh my God, I have such a crush on Sean Evans who plays Endeavour. I love the whole ensemble on the show.
I really like the lushness of Victoria and you never lose with the BBC. And Wallander is Scandinavian. Need I say more? I love their cinema; it is as austere as their climate.
Today’s big thing is my appointment with Dr. Pimstone. This is the follow-up appointment to the tests he ordered. I may be being a drama queen, but it seems to me that you don’t call people in to tell them nothing is going to be done. I suspect I am going to start heart medications or get the pacemaker that was tentatively prescribed back in September.
Now, as far as cardiology is concerned, I get on with my life.
Next up: The neurologist promised by Dr. Montaner. I am going to be drug dependent through this next stage—the “neurologist” stage. Last night I had a monster sense of dread; the only way out was medicinal. I have three levels of drugs. I tool level three last night.
If seeing the neurologist is going to be like seeing the cardiologist it will take a long time to get in. Then there will be tests I imagine and then more waiting to hear the results.
At least I know it’s neither a tumour nor a bleed. The focus of the neurologist will be neurological disease I guess. It will feel very good to rule that kind of problem out. And if that happens, it’s back to Dr. Montaner for a three-month experiment with my medications to rule them out.
It took two months to see the cardiologist. If it takes the same to see the neurologist, and his process takes months and then the drug experiment with Dr. Montaner takes more months, it’s pretty clear I may not have any answers to my questions until October. Meanwhile, my speech is getting worse and my mobility—at least in my upper body—has become a huge issue when I try to talk. Whatever is wrong with me is getting progressively worse.
Tick tock. Tick tock.