Like Dr. Brian, she is younger than I. She does not exude a Dr. Krystin vibe. She's Dr. Baker, all the way, but it feels forced. To be honest, we find her a bit precious. Well, if by "precious" I can convey a bit of a God-complex wrapped into a light blue cashmere twinset. But it's her hair that bothers me. It is bright, shimmery and untouched not just by dye, but from the dulling effect that time has on natural blondes.
I know she is asking me questions, I hear myself answering them: yes, I can feel that perfectly, no, it doesn't hurt, yes, it's the same at all times of the day... so college at eighteen, four years pre-med... Well, it is a little different in the shower, come to think of it, as if it's stronger... then, what, another four years of medical school? Six years of residency, isn't that what it said on wiki? Good Lord... Oh, I almost forgot, this is new - now when I bend my head toward my chest I get an electric shock feeling down my legs (which I later learn is called L'Hermitte's Sign or Phenomena). Thirty-two. Ok then. That doesn't sound so bad after all. She chastises me for not making the appointment sooner and I stifle the urge to argue with her, to tell her that I'd tried, but her offices were closed due to the holidays. I'm working at being mature and friendly in an attempt to... what, get her to like me? To bring me into the loop of my own care?
She wants schedule an MRI of my cervical level spinal cord immediately. She isn't thinking MS yet (the elephant in the room, I wonder how she feels about it being present?), but is looking at Transverse Myelitis. Conferring with Doctors Brian and Google are heavy on my mind as we both shake her (tiny, too-soft?) hand and thank her for her time.
As I question the things she didn't seem interested in I think that maybe she just hasn't gotten used to her new second skin, either.
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