I want to see a golf ball that's 5cm by 8cm
Warren went to the emergency room last night. He was having what last week's neurosurgeon calls a "partial complex seizure." He was fully conscious and had limited control over his body. He was speaking broken English, his hands were clammy, and his face was flushed. His body temperature was a couple of degrees below normal.
The doctor in the ER said according to Warren's medical record his cyst is 5cm by 8cm. The first neurosurgeon we saw on his health plan said his cyst was "about the size of a golf ball and shouldn't cause [Warren] any problems."
Warren was shaking
. He was having his father count so he coud use it to time his breathing to avoid hyperventilation. His vision was blurring. At the same time, he was cracking jokes, so we knew he was "in there." For example, the heart monitor in the "room" (partition, really) next to his was making an annoying "beep beep beep" sound. In his broken English he said, "Please turn off; that song is annoying."
When the ER doctor tried to find out the results of a test of some fluid running out of Warren's nose for CSF, the computer wouldn't let him. I saw the screen; it would only release the results to "the referring physician from Redwood City." The test was ordered by a physician in Sacramento
and was performed
in Redwood City.
This is getting annoyingly convoluted. I wish they'd just put in an effing shunt and give him back his life already. Current Mood: enraged