There Is a Lesion on My Brain, and I Don’t Know What That Means Yet
This journey started three years ago, and I won’t have answers any time soon.
It felt a bit like I was dying. One day, seemingly out of nowhere, I was hit with fatigue so intense that walking thirty feet across a parking lot felt like a marathon. It didn’t help that I also couldn’t walk straight; my gait was suddenly crooked and unsteady. I might have even looked drunk to onlookers, despite the fact that I had been sober for nearly a year at that point. I fell twice in a three week period, the second time it was onto my bathroom floor, where I lay for several minutes before I could muster the energy to pull myself back up using the sink. It was surreal, and terrifying, and it was only the beginning.
The severity of my symptoms lessened after about three weeks. But they also lingered, my body never quite regaining it’s equilibrium. After three months, I went to see my family doctor.
“Why did you wait so long?” Her first question when I described my symptoms has grown a bit ironic in retrospect. It was also likely rhetorical, as she had been treating me for a few years at this point, and knew that I would avoid coming in until I was absolutely sure I needed to. She referred me tests to checked my blood, heart, and inner ear. They…
