Morning before the vertigo specialist

I'm going to see the new specialist this afternoon.

Last night we were theorizing about best-case treatment scenarios. "They'll pat your head gently in just the right spot and make everything in your ears go back where it's supposed to," said timprov. "No," I said, "it'll be a very simple physical therapy routine: it's just a jump to the left...."

I have no idea how our lives would go if we had to be serious, but we've never really tried it, so no great risk.

Reporting in

So.

What we do not have at the moment is a diagnosis.

What we do have is: 1) an appointment for further testing; 2) the ability to rule out BPPV as a diagnosis; and 3) a sense that this clinic is the right place for me to go, and that we are going in the right direction here. A sense that this doctor is asking interesting and relevant questions and pursuing the answers to them with intelligence and energy.

So that's where this is. Of course we would have loved an instantaneous and miraculous cure, but we didn't expect it. (And would have distrusted it, honestly.) The tests were unpleasant and at times alarming but not actually painful. And did not involve my ears. Until next time.

All thanks are due to Dr. porphyrin for assuring me that there was a better way to go than my last specialist, and that if people didn't take this seriously she would do due and diligent violence upon their persons for me. It's nice to have doctors and PTs who don't actually need their butts kicked just now.

Paraphrasing TMBG in song before bed

"If it wasn't for diagnosis, I wouldn't have any gnosis...."

Except I don't. Oh. No gnosis for me.

Darn.