So if you’re going to the bayou
Man I’ll tell you all I know
She’s got skin so pale
She’s six feet high
And she’ll look right through you
With just one eye
Sunday, February 22, 2004
Stage III of Bell’s Palsy: Contemplation
I hate to get philosophical, especially since both my IQ and obsession lie within the 80s, but after the flight from Seattle to San Francisco, a shuttle ride to the Clarion in Burlingame and a long trek to my hotel room my right eye was absolutely destroying my soul with its inability to close, and it brought to mind those stories of people who lose one of their senses, such as their sight, only to have their other senses overcompensate, resulting in incidences of super-hearing and super-taste.
And I realized with some horror that my inability to block out the world occasionally by closing my eye had resulted in another kind of super-sensation.
When you can’t close your eyes, you suddenly see how ugly the world really is.
- - -
At the hotel, my staff were bickering again, each coming up to me with behind the scenes details of how horrible the others were. And suddenly I could see!
“I SEE YOU! AND YOU’RE EVIL!”
But the ability to see the truth, as anyone who’s seen it will tell you, is more a curse than a blessing. Seeing that people are mean to each other, secretly covet the insignificant objects their peers have and don’t leave reasonable tips to waitresses and hotel staff are all more alarming than any head-paralyzing disease. I could no longer blink away the truth when it became too much, but had to endure it endlessly, through painful, bloodshot, blurry eyes. This is the untold curse of Bell’s Palsy.
- - -
In my hotel room I called my wife who once again begged me to go to the hospital.
“I’m fine,” I assured her.
“Please! Do eet for me!”
And it was getting harder to argue with her, especially since my eye was now unbearably painful, the pain, oh the pain, like I had been smited, or is it smote? Smitten? For my transgressions, for Lane, for liking Glitter, for not knowing what the hell Survivor is (It’s not an 80s band! It’s a TV show! Bullshit! You lie! The truth is evil!)
I call the hospital.
“Hi, my name is Brandon, first-time caller, long-time listener.”
“How can I help you?”
“The right side of my face is paralyzed. But I’m an EMT, so I know it’s Bell’s Palsy.”
"Paralysis on the right side of your face? You need to go to the emergency room."
"No, it's just Bell's Palsy. Here are the symptoms."
The nurse looks up Bell's Palsy on WebMD. "You should still go in to the emergency room. It might be something else. They have medicine that can help."
"I'm fine, really."
"I can't make you go in, but you really need to go in."
I now see myself as every patient I've ever treated as an EMT who does not want to go to the hospital. In my mind, all of them have been idiots. If I'm telling them they need to go to the hospital, I mean that they need to go. Here I am arguing with a nurse, who knows a hell of a lot more than me about disease. I'm a doerk© .
"Fine, I'll go in."
- - -
I walk to the hospital, two miles away. I check in. The attendant is wearing 6 crosses. She asks me if I've seen the Passion of the Christ yet.
"My face is paralyzed," I say with half my face.
- - -
The ER doctor finally sees me. He's very pleasant, I make a few jokes about diagnosing myself on-line. He agrees with my diagnosis. He calls Neurology and they recommend Acyclovir, an anti-viral, and Prednisone, a steroid.
"But won't they disqualify my baseball stats?"
I walk to the drug store. My shopping list includes:
- an eye patch.
- eye lubricant.
- a bottle of wine.
I notice that the check-out girl is very pretty. Normally I would try to say something charming, but looking down at my shopping items: an eye patch, eye lubricant and 3 liters of Riunite, all I can do is smile at her.
The terrified look in her eyes reminds me that only half my face is working at the moment.
just a couple more...
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