|Mal SSES-OS, magnetic resin-ants, B-9 spidery cysts + how-to DIY self-trephination ± defenestration
12 July 2019> ℝealized we was wearing our Bad Brains shirt as we were psychling out to get an MRI this a.m... why not? What a mindfuck, magnetic resonance... the ultimate selfie, of yo inner noggin. When we toll the technician (he aksed why) we was getting an MRI cuz we had vertigo + hearing loss/tinnitus, he aksed what kind of music we liked + we said "loud". But then realized he was aksing cuz he was gunna Q up tunes to listen to during the MRI. "Like rock'n'roll?" he aksed + we said sure, but then he said, "like Bon Jovi?" + we said please no, more alternative or heavy. We wished we hadn't had headphones on at all tho, as the sounds of the MRI are music into + of themselfs. Allreddy feels like u's in an isolation chamber, when suddenly it's like u inside a giant jackhammer. The 1st 20 minutes was a peace of cake, laying toetilly sighlent... even dozed off to the beautiful cacaphony of noize that drowned out the music on the headphones. Then came the part we was dreading.... we ain't claustrophic, but we got an extreme fear of needles. Don't be fooled by the tattoos. Another tech came in who we couldn't see cuz we wasn't sposed to move our head + she injected us w/ a contrasting agent, witch weren't so bad... our 3rd needle in the past 2 months so we're getting used to hit, starting to look like a junkie w/ bruised trackmarks. And then we did it all ova again w/ the contrasting agent coursing thru our veins to our brain, prezoomably so they cd see bedder. The last 10 minutes we started to get antsy + really wanted to shift our head to get comfortable. And then finally it was ovawith. We aksed how it looked, but the tech wasn't gunna say nada... dat was the radiologist's job. But we snuck a peek at nuestros SSES-OS up on the monitor as we went to get dressed... what a trip. Now we got to wait out the weekend to get the results.
14 July> Saw Operators last night at U st music hall. Dan Boeckner is definitely the most earnest + sincerely grateful rocker we've ever seen + it translated to the music, wich felt very urgent. They just had a good contagious vibe about them. Our bedder-½ split to Ethiopia for a quick trip + M + L wint back to Bklyn. Rigged up the new jack on our acoustic, but the pickup/preamp still don't work so guess we'll just mic it the old-fashioned way. Making headway on Textiloma (seaquell to 'SSES" 'SSES" "SSEY')... just when Telemachus co-missioned us (a.I.) to undergo this textiloma surgery on his bee-½ cuz of his iatro/aichmo-phobia, ends up he might halve to halve a surgical proseedjure of his one.
15 July> Got the results of our MRI back... evidently we got what's called an arachnoid cyst in our left cerebellar hemisfear. But don't worry, it's b9. The spidery polyp is pressing up against our 8th cranial nerve—the vestibulocochlear or auditory vestibular nerve, the 1 dat transmits sound + equilibrium data from the inner oreja to los SSES-OS. Sew perhaps dat x-planes our vertigo + hearing problemas. They also said we probly halve "dehiscence" (SCD) cuz the bone along our superior semicircular canals is thinning, witch also causes vertigo + hearing issues. We also got a b9 developmental venuous anomaly + maybe even a b9 cavernoma, both incidental + not uncommon... + as w/ all this other stuff ain't much u can do about it sides trephination or fenestration.
... so guess we got bad brains after ∀ll, that most likely we was born with (congenital). What a mess. Psychled back to the hospital to get the riport + a disc of the imedges cuz they dint give them to us when we aksed on friday, the fuckers... + ends up u gotta have a PC + sum bullshit proprietary software to vu the images. When we called to aks how we cd see the images on a mac they said we was S.O.L, they was for our doc's eyes only, not for us... how insane, "it's our brain!" As Malkovich said.
Seams silly we ain't allowed to see hour one SSES-OS, they shd be aksing our permission! But thank Inurnet for YouTube, always sum geek hacker that demonstraits how-to do such things, so we was able to extact the images (for any1 needing to do this, sign up for an OsiriX lite trial by lying + saying you're a radiologist).
We feel a bit bedder cuz at least we know we ain't crazy, that there's an explanation to why weave bean halving all these isshues, might even x-plane why our eyes have deteriorated so rapidly these last 5 or so years, cuz vision can also be effected. We upped our drugstore reading glasses to 2.0 when we got hear last March + threw out the 1.5s we had last year in Rome (after upgrading from 1.0). Now already we're ordering 2.5s on Amazon cuz we're straining too mush with 2.0. Irritability, dipression, fatigues, memary loss, psychosis + even schizophrenia are also side-FX of what weave bean diagnosed with, so might x-plane our behavior + mentoll capacity in resent years as any 1 dat follows this hear blog can probly testify 2, dat we can't spell or use carwreck granmar + we're luzing hour senses... when we started blogging on 5cense we was in cumplete control of all 5, hence the URL. Bud weave bean questioning our one sanity a lot lately.... are the voices we here in our cabeza pulsatile tinnitus or are we certifiably loco? Are there arachnids in our SSES-OS spinning webs in hour organ-ick circuitry? Communicating on our bee-½?
U can still say "it's all in our mind"... it is fizzically. But at least this stuff is b9, cd bee worse. Let's just hope we can manage the symptoms + knot (knock on would) halve to get brain surgery cuz that wood suck.... we got an appt next week w/ a neurosurgeon for a surgical evaluation (of the arachnoid cyst). And we're trying to schedule another appointment w/ a neuroTOlogist, cuz the semicircular canal dehiscence ain't sumping neurologists nor neurosurgeons deal with. Let's just hope if they got to crack our cranium they onelie halve to do her x1! Scheduling all these appointments is a royal pain in the neck (wear we harbor most of our pane, where our brainstem meats our spine into our shoulders + down our left arm)... these doctors got buffer admin minions that make u jump thru all sorts of red-taped hoops to prove to them that your worthy of their greatness before they'll even see u. They need an audiology test but insurance won't pay for it cuz the BCBS reps (likely in India, reading carefully scripted responses, pre-empted w/ disclamers to cover their asses) tells us our plan "is not for adults" so weed halve to pay $900 out of pocket to witch we said fuck dat. If it ain't for adults then whose our insurance for cuz we don't got no kids? And then the neurotologist reakwires a CT scan before they'll see us but we need a referral from a neurotologist to get a cat scan in the 1st place.... absurd chicken + egg circular conundrum! Finally our neurologist agreed to do it reluctantly saying it was unethical + innapropriate making sure we knew he wasn't happy about it then starts bitching about the elitist JHU docs + how absurd it is + all we can say is tell me about it. And we even have an inside angle, we can pull the JHU faculty card since our bedder-½ is a distinguished professor + her colleague way up the ladder nose this pertickler neurotologist. Regular peons god it even worse. And even if we can schedule sumping, it won't be til 3-6 months from now... even for just a consultation. Feels like David Bowie in The Hunger (1983) waiting for Dr. Susan Sarandon, the scene where he ages 30 years in 30 minutes in the waiting room, then just gives up + goes home to die. But hey, we do got an electric drill! Worse comes to worse we can google how to perform a DIY self-trephination to release the pressure building up in our inner canal.
De todos modos, this is what's going in our head, sorry to complane + thanks for listening, dear Inurnet:
We tried to use The Ramones song "Bad Brain" to accompany the above video of our defective SSES-OS, but YouTube blocked it, so instead we used a Bad Brains song. We'll leave u w/ the liarics to the nameake Ramones song tho:
+ hear's a playlist to help us cope/console...
|# 656 <( current)> 658 > The old nadsat index of our mind spinning in-out of Huxley's dystopia like clockwork, o my droogies|