Botoxic Avenger

My dear fellow neurologically challenged compatriots, a word of warning... Although just a few months ago I was singing praises to all things Botox, but I feel I must add a crucial caveat: Botox is a wonderful tool for dealing with residual effects of facial paralysis, like asymmetry of features or expression, tics and muscle twitches and spasms. HOWEVER, much in the same way that all haircuts are not equal, neither are two different Botox treatmets equal. As some of you may remember, back in the summertime, I discovered that my insurance would cover Botox treatments for the neurological problems in my face. My wonderful neurologist gave me some injections, and my left eye opened up to the same size as my right, the left side of my forehead was rendered as smooth as the right, my eyebrows were leveled with each other, and the little twitches were eliminated. The only thing he refused to inject was my chin, where a crumpled dimple the size of my thumbprint had appeard on the right side of my chin. I had read that crumpled chin dimples could be fixed with Botox, but he seemed to think this would not work for me. I didn't believe him. I wanted more.

Then I moved. I did not have a new neurologist, but I did have a friend of a friend who worked at a plastic surgeon's office. I ran into her at a party, and she told me to come on in, they would fix me right up. After all, if a nurologist was good at Botox, I thought a plastic surgeon would be even better. He even agreed to do the chin, "No problem," he had said. No problem until the effects began to show. I am guessing that people who have had paralysis to part of their face likely have a good deal of muscle atrophy, which means they would need fewer units of Botox to relax the muscles. Instead of opening up my left eye, the injections closed it even further, my upper eyelid was heavy, and my left eyebrow sagged well below the right. This was not the worst part. The injections did not fix the dimple in my chin, it actually made it worse, and so much Botox was injected that for four months, I could only smile with the left side of my moulth. On the left, my lower lip could not even strech below the edge of my front teeth, which meant that when I spoke, ate or chewed gum, I would bite my lip with such force that my canine teeth pierced my lip through and through on several occasions. It was constantly purple,bloody, and swollen (thus making it more prone to future biting.) I saw a friend soon after getting the treatment, who, knowing about my AVM, became very alarmed and thought I had had a stroke.

This was almost as traumatic as my post radiation hair-loss bad hair cut. Almost. After all the progress I had made, all the physical therepy, here I was with self imposed pseudo Bell's Palsy. I am not sure if it has completely worn off yet or not. I don't really know what I am supposed to look like anymore. I am not back to the way I used to be before the initial paralysis. I look strange, I feel hideous, and I am desperate for more Botox, but this time from a neurologist.

So What is it That You Do, Exactly?

I should have gone to medical school. That's the racket to be in, for sure. Yes, you have to go to school forever, and I hear it's pretty hard, but, you know what they say:
Q: "What do you call the guy who graduates last in his class in med school?"
A: "Doctor."

(insert drum roll--ba-dum-dum!)

After all, for all the money it costs to "follow up" with a neurologist, I fail to see exactly what it is they are doing. I went for an appointment after gamma knife, and had asked for botox injections when I made the appointment. I have annoying muscle spasms in my face, and a little botox can make it stop. So I arrive, expecting to leave a new woman (and planning to claim that the spasms also affected all my "problem areas"). Well, apparently the "botox appointment" is actually an appointment to make a botox appointment. What's more, the doctor says he will only do the botox on one side, which he says will make me look asymmetrical. So, I tell him I'd like to get rid of the spasms--but since I'm not so keen on looking like Quasimodo, I ask if he can just do it on both sides. No. He will only do it in a disfiguring way. And not today. And by the way, that will be $300.

As he picks up his clipboard and leaves the examining room, my mind is racing. This can't be "it"! He's got to do something, right? Wrong. As a last ditch effort I call after him, panicked.

"Wait!"
He turns around, clearly not pleased, with a weary look on his face.

With my voice full of hope, I plead, "Do you think I am 'totally and permanently disabled'?"

He shakes his head and smirks, "No" is all I hear as he shuffles off to collect his next check, leaving me slumped on the table, shattered and defeated.