Sparks Fly


I had my EMG/Nerve Conduction Study this afternoon. Luckily, the doctor wasn’t busy. He was the only doctor there and his schedule was just people getting this specific test, so when I say it wasn’t busy, I mean I only saw 2 other patients. The wait was a little long, but that was my fault because I came about forty-five minutes early…on purpose.

I didn’t actually have to have the EMG portion of the test because the doctor was able to tell from the Nerve Conduction Study that I didn’t have carpal tunnel syndrome–which was what the hand specialist wanted to find out. So we now officially know that I don’t have carpal tunnel syndrome. Yay. The doctor today said that whatever is causing my thumb pain is either a type of tendinitis or is a structural issue.

The test wasn’t bad. I’d had it done before, so I knew what to expect. I don’t remember it feeling exactly like it did today. (It felt like the shock was repeating in my spine and head each time today. It reminded me of what I feel like when I’m having one of my myoclonic episodes.) But I’m not worried about it possibly feeling different this time.

Mom’s exorcist home health nurse came today, right as I was headed out for the tests. She decided that she would do her own exam of my hand to see if I had carpal tunnel. She ended up squeezing my elbow, and I had to keep from screaming at her for touching me without asking. I know that she’s a medical professional, but that doesn’t mean that I want her to just put her hands on me without asking. Besides, it’s not her job to examine me, since I’m not her patient. Now, if my mom was complaining about thumb pain, then it would be perfectly fine for her to do an exam on her. I just wish more people understood personal space boundaries.


About Janet Morris

I'm from Huntsville, Alabama. I've got as many college credits as a doctorate candidate, and the GPA of some of them, too. I have a boss by the name of Amy Pond. She's a dachshund. My parents both grew up in Alabama.