Diagnosis dilemma

Flash back to June 18, 2008. All my life I was considered the child that got the most attention for one reason or another; none of it serious. My brothers seemed intent on doing things to please my parents - even if it meant lying about things they did that were not so "savory." Unfortunately, they got little attention and no kudos.
In the early 90's my brother Marc got cancer. He got little attention from myself and the twins as we knew mom would fight hard for her "sunshine child". We all stayed posted, but we knew he would not want for much; especially since hearing our grandmother paid for a chunk of his hospital bill. Marc often irritated us because he set a bad example. At the time of his diagnosis, he was new in the film industry and had not gotten health insurance. After his trip to remission, and mom could breathe again, the twins and I got letters delineating the way in which we would receive money for help if needed after Nana died. At the top of that list was health insurance. We all could have cared less - as if she really would help! We were healthy, young and not really all that interested in her money. We were floored, as a side note, that after a childhood of hearing how we had college funds set aside we were never going to see those funds. They apparently went to a pool, in which we as children were not of a mature enough age to really decide between a pool or college. Seriously, how many of you have kids or were kids that cannot see past the next Nintendo game or the next holiday or birthday and think college is light years away? Personally, I never remember being asked and I think the entire thing was rigged so my parents could get a pool. Seriously, we lived on a golf course with a two story house, huge screened in patio, 4 bedrooms and four bathrooms (a cabana bathroom as well which is right off the pool so guests can change & shower); what more could you need?
So, the precedent was set by the sunshine child and we were quite agitated. How could you have a job without health insurance, and why did mom seem to think our propensity to be responsible was tied to whether or not we had health insurance.
Fast forward 15 years to my diagnostic demise.  The first thing she asked was whether or not I had health insurance. So caring. The second comment was "isn't it great you have good friends such as Erin who will take care of you?' Totally shifting the responsibility to a non-family member without their consent. Never even asked Erin if she was up to the task, and when I told her, she was shocked (not sure why).
Dad, on the other hand, was quick to tell me how the family would come together to get through this. I was so touched. Meanwhile, Richie called and asked me if it was hereditary. Hmm, I am sure he was so concerned about the arm stiffness, spasms, itchy neck, numbness on my right side and slurring of my speech.  Such concern; for himself. My brother John was no where to be found; I was in LA at Marc's when I got the diagnosis. It was my birthday weekend and I liked spending it with my friend Johnnie in LA at the time. However, it was 117 degrees, he had an apartment the size of a postage stamp and I was not comfortable no matter how hard I tried. I called my brother Marc and he agreed to let me stay with he and his family.
Marc, although being annoying in that he had set precedent 15 years earlier, the one thing he was well apprised in the quelling of anxiety due to a not so grand diagnosis. He and his boys, my nephews, decided to take me to see Kung Fu Panda. While the movie was funny, I was crying quietly in my chair as I faced my new diagnosis with a mixture of fear, dread and relief. What would come of me? Would I be in a wheelchair? How did this happen? Why me? I asked that many times, and still do it on occasions when I get very ill. Sometimes the disease itself can be debilitating - without the help of viruses or other immune system stimulators. In a word, no matter how you slice it, it sucks. I dreaded the future. I had no idea what to expect. I heard so little about this disease. Ironically, I had a friend in Seattle that was just devastated by it and I spent many hours with her; Susan. She was a great person. I later told her about my diagnosis and she was devastated.
My brother looked over at me crying in the theater and had to sense what I was going through. He leaned over and told me "Dad told me the corniest thing when I got sick. He said "Look up, it will make you feel better." I laughed. But it worked. Try it", he said, showing compassion.
I did try it but think I was too shocked and the time was too early for me to feel comfortable with my new life.  The weekend went on, and I was scared to death. I was told the earliest I could see a neurologist was 3 months later. That was just a travesty. how was I going to cope until then?
Next: meeting the Doctor of Death; my first neurologist who was sure to be a classmate with Christ he was so old.