What's up, doc (part II)...

So last week I saw a specialist.

It was a visit that went pretty much as scripted... The doc asked all sorts of questions, poked and prodded me with various implements and appendages, had me walk a (relatively) straight line, and shined lots of lights of various levels of brightness into the assorted orifices of my anatomy.

All in all, a successful application of medical care.

He was professional, courteous, arrogant and condescending... in other words, everything I look for in specialist. Unfortunately though, aside from telling me I was an idiot to think that something other than the fact that I have migranes might be causing my problems, he didn’t really have much to say...

Correction... He knows what the Tullio symptom is.

You should now be impressed.

I know I was... want to know why?

Because he told me I should be impressed... many, many times.

When I told him about some equilibrium problems I was having (related to some stuff going on in one of my ears), he informed me I was displaying... [insert dramatic pause] the Tullio symptom. Then, he got all excited, started smiling, and immediately ran from the room.

I interpreted this as a positive sign... an indication that perhaps he had had an epiphany, and now, with a simple flourish of his pen upon his mighty pad of prescription, he would be able to remedy all my problems.

I would be incorrect in this assumption.

Upon returning, he said (with a very self-satisfying smirk on his face) that he was one of maybe 2 or 3 doctors in the entire Boston area who would be able to recognize the Tullio symptom.

And he said that this was something extraordinary.

[insert second dramatic pause]

I wasn’t sure how exactly I was supposed to react to this... Was I supposed to applaud? Give him a gold star? Swoon and fall to my knees? I still don’t know... but whatever he was expecting, I must not have delivered, because he seemed to be under whelmed by my reaction to his revelation. In fact, I think I even saw him pout a little. Then, he handed me a page of “research” he had printed out from the internet that described the Tullio symptom. This was all well and good except for one thing... he/it didn’t tell me anything... I didn’t know if this new found diagnoses was related to my recent episodes... or if it was some impending harbinger of doom that would trigger me going into some sort of delusional rage, giving all my possessions away and frolicking nude with reckless abandon... or even if I might now morph into some form of superhuman that would be able to read minds and fight crime with a special unit of the FBI.

He didn’t know any of this...

All he knew was that HE knew what it was called... and most people didn’t.

...so there.

The rest of my visit proved mostly uneventful. He doesn’t really think anything’s “wrong” with me per se, and most likely I’ll just have to see if I can manage my symptoms on my own. Maybe by eating different foods. Maybe by altering my sleeping patterns. Maybe by pounding medications like they’re chicklets... only time will tell which things will work out best.

That being said, he did want me to have an MRI... you know, just in case.

Reassuring.

In truth, since I have a family history of noggin’ problems, it was kinda a no brainer (pun fully intended) to order the test. These things can be passed on, and it would probably be prudent to make sure that nothing serious is going on – either as a result of my recent symptoms, or simply as a result of my genetics.

Or, to use his exact words...

[insert third dramatic pause]

“We might as well kill two birds with one stone.”

Very reassuring.