The Enchanter's Theorem

And that's it, right there.

To say that I am pathetically, wrung out, falling down grateful, is to put it so mildly as to be an understatement of the first water.

The neuro, Dr. Regev, was a treat. Soft spoken, blunt, and on his game. Saw me at 2 pm promptly. Did some basic physio. Was actually surprised that yes, I really am ambidextrous, but was fairly much in agreement that it was buried drusen. Looking at the photos of my optic nerves, (he was a mutterer), he kept saying, "No, no, I don't think it's that (mutter mumble)," which was great, but I couldn't understand a damn thing he said. He then called his friend who is apparently one of the best radio-neurologists *in the country*.

By the way, this was a neuro I got through referral from Dr. Schneider. You know, my epic awesome OB. Yeah. Jessica Schneider for the win, *again*.

She got me an appointment at 4 PM for the MRI. An hour and a half from me sitting in Dr. Regev's office. This would be Dr. Rachel Gordon at the MINK center. Seriously. It's called MINK.

The husband and I left there, he went and got food, I went and found a Coffee Bean and made my first round of calls as promised. And then we went to MINK.

They were running late, and I could tell how seriously they were taking it, because the admin at the front desk came to me only to let me know they were running late, but they'd get me in as soon as possible. Amusingly enough, they saw me about five minutes after that. Where my first tech reminded me that I had to take my bra off too. Metal clasps.

Jonathan was the name of my MRI tech. Dapper young black man who gave me ear plugs and got me as comfortable as possible.

And then he dropped the plastic guard over my face and tucked the foam blocks around my head.

Some of you know that I'm claustrophobic.

I nearly panicked.

Yet again, I am grateful grateful grateful, for the years of meditation practice. I closed my eyes. I made myself not open them. And I went to my Center and I *stayed there*, seeing myself in the open, while the MRI howled around me like the interior of a BMW engine, shifting through all five gears on the Audubon.

30 minutes went by in what felt like about ten, when I felt the table roll out of the MRI and I let myself open my eyes.

I put on my shoes, got my stuff, stepped outside, where a handsome woman only a little older looking than me caught my eye and said, "Ms. Hunt?" (She was wearing this gorgeous turquoise necklace.)

I stopped and looked at her.

"I'm the doctor."

I just stared. I don't think I breathed.

"There's nothing there," she said. "Your brain looks fine. No tumor."

"Just the drusen?" I asked stupidly. It hadn't sunk in.

"Just the drusen."

The rest of the conversation was just noise in my ears. I walked into the waiting room and told the husband. I managed to not break down in the waiting room. He just held me. I only broke down when I was in the car, was on the phone with the Mad Model, and we both began to cry.

It's not great news. The drusen are still there, camped out on my optic nerve. The damage to my visual field still exists. But this? This I can deal with. This I can work with.

I know, I know, I know down to the bottom of my soul, and I knew while I was in the MRI, that you all had my back. I could feel how well I was surrounded and protected.

The cat and I thank you.

*kisses each and every one of you*