I think at my age what they’ll do for my head is fiddle with my dwindling hormones and I will be fine. Or make my hormones dwindle and I will be fine…at any rate…I read about it in the paper.
I will paint you a word portrait of my present state, lying low — in what could be taken for pajamas, eating dry Cheerios out of a Baggie, watching Doctor Who on my computer…something about carnivorous snow at Christmas, with Richard E. Grant playing a Victorian zombie…and having a very nice time.
The whopper migraine was just that, and the symptoms that followed—one droopy side of face, tearing eyes, change in vision (which was caused by my right eye’s pupil being more dilated than the left in response to light) that concerned my GP (Who am I kidding? Scared the HECK out of me!)—were consistent with the changes that can happen to the autonomic system in the wake of a severe episode. That they resolved at the same time and yesterday I felt completely well means no stroke or, future likelihood of stroke.
I love this new neurologist, we talked for over an hour, and as it turns out he is a past student of my old buddy, Dr. A. Tėte de Cuvée, an esteemed professor and researcher here in L.A.
I AM SO RELIEVED, and I think we are going to get my migraines down to a dull roar—the doctor said at least halved, and what he’s shooting for is one a month, a tiny migraine that melts away at the first hint of medication. I suspect he wants me to tell Dr. Cuvée that he is genius and possibly the most gifted student he ever had…