Update

I've never posted about Dr. Marvin Greenspan*. Marvin is my neurologist. I call him Marvin because that's what he prefers. Or Greenspan. Lots of people, including his patients, just call him Greenspan. He is a brilliant guy, and yet the most unassuming, unpretentious doctor you'll ever meet. But that's not what makes him really special. What sets him apart from others in his field is his altruism. Marvin sees patients gratis. Not all of them of course, but for the ones he knows can't afford their copay, he waives it. I've known him since elementary school. He was in the "A" class while I was in the "B" class. There was also a "C" class. In those days they didn't worry about stigmatizing kids; if you were a dummy, you were in the "C" class. Over the years, Marvin has been more than a doctor to my family and me. He took care of my father A"H and has seen my mother as well, and has never accepted a dime. He has become more a medical confidant than a doctor. He had a very serious heart attack a few years ago, and yet he works his butt off. I asked him recently why he doesn't retire; L-rd knows he doesn't need the money. "I love it too much," he said. I knew what he meant, too. He loves helping people. He's funny, he's brash, and he can sometimes be blunt to a fault. He's an absolutely terrific doctor but more importantly an amazing human being. When I first awoke from sedation after being on a respirator for a week, I had Chayie call him for me. I was confused and frightened and wanted him to use whatever clout he could to get them to discharge me. Because of my trach, I couldn't talk. So I listened. "Idiot!", he yelled lovingly, "You just used up one of your nine lives. Now lay on your ass and let them make you well." That's the Marvin I know and love. Back around seven months ago, my hands (and sometimes the rest of my body) were trembling terribly. He told me I had something called Benign Essential Tremor. I got the feeling it was just a catch-all phrase that doctors use for tremors of unknown etiology (or idiomatic tremors, in medical jargon). I wanted him to prescribe something for them. He wouldn't. The only medication he thought was any good was contraindicated for anyone with breathing problems. Of course. "But what should I do?", I wailed. My shaking was really bad back then. There were times I even had trouble writing. "Ignore it," he said. It was difficult to do at first, but after a while a strange thing happened: I kind of got used to it, and as a result I didn't think about it that much. And when I stopped thinking about it, it improved. In fact it has improved to the point where it's almost non-existent. Yes, my hands still shake occasionally, but very slightly and usually in the evening when I'm very tired. My writing is no longer affected whatsoever. Then there was my Drop Foot. Marvin said it would improve on its own, and eventually would probably disappear altogether. Well, it has improved. I haven't bothered to wear my brace for a while and i can walk just fine. My left foot (starring Daniel Day Lewis) still drags a little, but I'm conscious of it so I compensate by deliberately lifting it a bit with each step so it doesn't get caught on a sidewalk crack and send me flying. Marvin is of the opinion that there must have been a period while I was sedated when my brain was oxygen deprived. But he explained to me that the brain is a remarkable organ, very capable of healing itself. It also has the uncanny ability to have different sections take over the function of other sections that have been damaged. Patience is key; I wanted everything to be all better right away, and Marvin cautioned me not to expect overnight miracles. So I waited, and Marvin was right. Doesn't he ever get tired of being right all the time? However, there are still three things that I would like my brain to work on. Are you listening, brain?
1. The ringing in my right ear is still there. It's not loud enough to drive me totally bonkers, but it is rather annoying.
2. I've developed little tics. Sometimes they're in my hands, sometimes my legs. They're tiny and only last a second, so I don't think they're noticeable to anyone but me. But I know they're there and I'd like them to stop.
3. This one is really driving me nuts. I have eyebrow problems. Okay, you can stop laughing now. I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. I'm not quite sure how to describe it. I think I might have to dedicate a whole post to it.
I don't want to sound like too much of a kvetch**, considering how much modern medicine has done for me. In the back of my mind I know I'll never be 100% physically again. But if Marvin can arrange for everthing else to resolve, can't he have a little one-on-one with my ol' gray matter and fix everything else? Well, Marvin, can't you??

* Not his real name.
** Kvetch = Complainer, Whiner.