Mysteries and Latin Time With the Doctors

Always on a Friday... right? Well, actually it started on Thursday. I got a phone call from Dr. Rosen, who is the chief doctor on the Senior Depression Study at UC that I somehow got myself into. 

In the beginning I dealt with a dear young man named who did the original interview over at UC/SF on Parnassas... at Langly Porter. I was there all afternoon and when we were finished, I was told that I had been accepted for the study... and got my original $50 for all the time spent in being interviewed. Next, I was told that they would let me know about the rest, would send an email and let me know when and where... they don't do everything over at Parnassas anymore. Now most things are done down at Mission Bay or the other area down there, whose name I cannot remember. 

Of course when I did get the info, I picked up on the wrong name and gave that to the cab driver, as I had forgotten to put the printout in my purse. It was lying on my desk, of course. The people at the other named area didn't have any idea what I was talking about, but i finally found someone who did, and got there in plenty of time, as I am an early person always and had plenty of time to get lost. I found a charming young man named David... and we spent the greater part of the day doing all the things they do with old people to see how well their brains are working... numbers, names, places, objects... pictures of the objects, etc., etc. Anyone who has ever had anything to do with psych people knows what I mean. i had a great old time and was told that the next thing was to have a PET scan of my brain... and again, they would let me know... by phone or by email. Then I met Dr. Rosen and had a nice chat with him and went home.

I had almost forgotten about the study, when a few weeks ago I got a phone call from Sam, another nice young man who was taking over for David... who seems to have moved on (well, it was quite a while ago)... telling me they needed to get my complete address again so they could send my compensation... and they had gotten more funding and were ready to do a PET scan of my head. Then the email, or course, with address, area, number, all the stuff one needs to find anything in that mess that is Mission Bay. Oh... I loved what a young guard told me when I asked why I had to go all the way to the other end of the long, long, long building to walk my walker up the ramp... then walk the mile back down to the end of the building that my cab had passed getting to the address I had to give him. Well, it was because there were only steps at the end where I was expected. He then said, "Yeah, they didn't think very clearly about these buildings... it was as if they just built a very tall building, then laid it down on its side, so all the entrance stuff is only at the one end that's like a ground floor." What an apt description of a building done by an arcitect who must have been thinking of a skyscraper, but was only allowed two stories. One could just see great giants picking up the tall buildings and laying them out flat... well, after all, down at Mission Bay they had lots and lots of nice flat land... not San Francisco-y at all. More like all the space one sees in Chicago.

So, anyway, I had a lovely time with Sam, leading me around all over this very odd building... it is divided up into little tiny offices, all of which seem to have been designed for 'something else'... anything else. The last room I wound up in with Sam had a HUGE giant chair he sat me in, plus one small one next to me and a sink next to that... and four chairs along the wall across from me... but very tight, we were almost knee to knee.  We chatted about the Midwest, the West Coast and families until they finally got the stomic stuff for my arm... and put it in... then Sam left and another guy took me across the hall to the waiting room across from the scanning machines. At last, across I went and was strapped into the PET machine... SO TIGHT... but I lay there daydreaming and finally went to sleep as I am wont to do in these  machines. Woke up being slid out of the machine and another aide took me out to the mile long walk to the ramp, and sat on my walker and wrote a poem about the noisy people waiting for buses, until my cab came and brought me home. Both my drivers were fun chatting with, as always with Luxor cabs.

Then... yesterday morning, the call from Sam, and finally that Dr. Rosen wanted to talk to me. He started with some vague chatter about "Now, this is probably nothing... but we just thought you should know and maybe check on it... and with PET scans one really can't tell... so I felt I should call you... well, it's -- then a bunch of Latin --- long Latin words." I must have sort of giggled, as he said... "Well, it's something like a hole in your head"... at which I burst into real laughter, and he said, "I must say, you are taking this well." So I replied, "Well, I am VERY OLD... and that is an old expression from my childhood for someone who is a complete dope... as in 'he has a hole in his head'." 

Well... I went through all the stuff about my doctor's name and phone number... and she called me and told me she had talked to Dr. Rosen, and he thought it was maybe... and all the Latin name... and that it was probably nothing... the usual. The upshot is that now I have to call Davies and make an appointment on a Friday morning before I go to the pool for my exercise program... this time for an MRI of the old Brain or head... whatever they have decided and THIS TIME I WANT A CD of my brain. I was promised one in the last study UC did and never got it, so now I want one. 

I just can't wait to see the hole in my head... but it is Friday and I got home from my pool exercises late. I may never live it down if this gets out! Not that I have anyone to share it with... all my old friends are dead... bet none of them ever had a hole in his head.