Multiple Sclerosis Symptoms and My Story: Part 4

My Introduction to a Disease Called Multiple Sclerosis

Once Monday came, I went to see my new ophthalmologist.  She did a bunch of eye things and said I had optic neuritis, and told me that is a first sign of a disease called Multiple Sclerosis.  She arranged for me to see a neurologist later that day.  (I didn't like the idea of "having something," and getting in to all these specialists meant that "something" was pretty serious.)

After seeing the neurologist, I was scheduled for a bunch of tests early the next day, including a Visual Evoked Response (VER) test.  This VER had me looking at a small tv screen with a red and white checkered background that changed, the black squares became white when the white squares became black, back and forth.  I was supposed to be staring at the little red dot in the middle.  My right eye was boring.  My left eye was fun! The black and white colors zigged and zagged across the screen, and up and down.

When I saw the neurologist after these tests, he had already scheduled me for an MRI (magnetic resonance imaging) of my head - at 3 pm that day, and for the first of three steroid (Solumedral drip) treatments - one hour each day for three days - to hopefully help me regain my sight.  More flags going up that this was serious.  And although I am not great with closed-in spaces, I told them I would be ok with a closed MRI because it would be like being in a tube, with both ends open, and just my head inside.  I was still a bit worried.  I canceled all the plans I had had that day (including going to watch a football game with a friend who was counting on me to be there), and began a journey of surprises.

The MRI, which was actually two, one without a shot of stuff that would show up as "contrast" in my brain, and one without, was nerve-wracking for someone who had no idea what to expect.  It was full of loud, pulsating whumps that changed now and then.  I was further in the tube than I thought I would be, and my head was encased in this contraption to keep it totally still.  I have always hated for my head to be held in any way, so I am not sure which was worse:  the tube,my head being held like that, or the shot of "contrast."  All contributed to unsettling my nerves, and all I really wanted after two whirlwind days, was to go home and curl up, but I knew I still had to go to the hospital for the Solumedral.  (I still didn't know what all that entailed).