I planned dessert first today after seeing Wanda’s Pie in the Sky picture on Facebook this morning.
I walked over to Kensington Market on a near-empty stomach and plopped myself down on the patio at Caplansky’s Delicatessen on College Street:
I was impressed with the way the water was delivered:
Either I was hungry or the portions aren’t as big as they are in Montreal because I had no trouble finishing this smoked meat on rye with French fries:
Then it was down the street and through the market to Wanda’s Pie in the Sky for my little slice of pumpkin cheesecake:
I guess you could say I had a full tank for the walk home.
In my ongoing quest to get to the bottom of my annoyingly reduced sleep, I received the results of a recent MRI of my brain when I visited my family doctor yesterday and the report was clearly not written for me to comprehend. Even my doctor was at a loss with some of the language but he concluded, “At least you don’t have a brain tumour,” which was more than I could deduce from this:
Clinical history: New onset central sleep apnea.
Multiple sequences were performed through the brain.
The splenium of the corpus callosum is absent and colpocephaly is present. There is a 1.2 cm gray matter heterotopia along the lateral wall of the trigone of the left lateral ventricle. There is thinning of the optic nerves, optic chiasm and optic tracts. The fornices are also quite thin. The mammillary bodies are small. The pineal is quite small. The entire ventricular system is larger than normal. There are mild microangiopathic changes in the hemispheric white matter. There is a prominent cisterna magna. There is mandibular hypoplasia. There is reversal of the cervical lordosis.
There are numerous developmental abnormalities of the brain as discussed. The predominant abnormality is colpocephaly with absence of the splenium of the corpus callosum. Of note is the presence of a gray matter heterotopia.
*****END OF REPORT*****
Some of the ‘abnormalities’ may stem from my prenatal and first couple of years of life. ” Hydrocephalus Arrested” is how my mother recalls the episode being summed up by doctors at Montreal Children’s Hospital. (Hydrocephalus is accumulation of too much cerebrospinal fluid in the brain.) Outwardly my head was disproportionately larger than my infant body, leading me to sitting up and tipping over, occasionally knocking my head. That it was “arrested” was of great relief to my parents because two children of two different cousins of my mother had been born with the same condition. One died, the other spent his shortened life in a wheelchair so one can understand how worried Mom and Dad would have been for me in my early months and years..
I’m guessing the brain’s way of retaining all its history may be partly responsible for the gobbledygook in the MRI report but I’d like to hear it from a neurologist’s mouth, rather than via the cryptic language quoted above.
Early this month I had electrodes taped to my head, neck, chest and legs, then I was wished a good night for a sleep study to see why suddenly, to me at least, I couldn’t get a decent night of shut-eye.
The results, which I received on Monday, showed that over the course of the six to seven hours that I slept, however intermittently, my breathing stopped briefly “like you were swimming underwater” hundreds of times.
This is apnea but not the most common type of respiratory apnea; mine is linked to the brain, which “forgets” to signal to breathe, and is known as central apnea.
The news flooded over me faster than I could think of questions but here’s what I know. I’ll be forming a very close relationship with oxygen each night, I am having a brain MRI this coming Monday at Women’s College Hospital, I go back to see the sleep doctor on August 29, then I meet with a neurologist on the third of September and with my family doctor the following day It’s the most intensive medical care schedule I have had for quite some time..
I’m a little nervous.
“How long have you been wasting?” the chiropodist asked me a couple of weeks ago as she updated a history on me.
The starkness of the verb, however accurate, stayed with me.
I’ve always been thin, I said, but my weight has been falling a bit since last fall.
Fast forward to preparations for a bone density test in Women’s College Hospital’s shiny new facilities today.
I stepped up onto an equally shiny, new, digital scale.
Weight: 122 lbs.(just over 55 kg)
On my worst weight dives I’ve never been below 130. Even at my usual 145 I’m off the BMI chart.
I’m accepting fattening dinner invitations.
Mr. G’s eye exam has been changed yet again so that the antagonist, though dead for more than a decade, might only be identified by his last initial and the responsibilities he held – not by full name nor school.
I’m doing this following some brief correspondence from a classmate who wondered, without suggesting anything directly to me, whether the man’s son, our classmate, might be unfairly wearing the sins of his father in this Google age. Also, as I have posted previously, something has shifted from a feeling of justified un-forgiveness to at least releasing my choke-hold.
Today marks eleven years since the beginning of events which form the basis of my autobiographical piece entitled Chopin, Roman Polanski and a cab.
I will attempt to stay home after dark.
Following a “massive stroke” my beautiful friend of almost exactly fifteen years has left me. Emma (short for Emerald, the colour of her eyes) dropped to one side, sprawled on the floor, and let out a yell worthy of her Siamese ancestors. Now my breaths draw up sobs and tears as the quietest kitten of her litter, who later went on to bite quite mischievously, won’t be waking me up tomorrow morning. I love you Emma.