Last month I pledged to answer questions about the strange turn my lengthy medical mystery took after I was sent to a neurologist. Here it is, in Q&A form. To spice things up, you can pretend the late James Lipton, host of Inside the Actor’s Studio, conducted the interview. And, as always, more telefilm reviews are coming soon, including special appearances by our patron saints, Kate Jackson and Judith Light.

How are the Botox and levodopa going?

The first round of Botox is already wearing off, which is normal earlier on, as the doctor experiments with dosages and injection sites. The levodopa has been great for my dexterity, slowness and rigidity, which confirms the neurologist is on the right track. Now the question is whether I have dopamine-responsive dystonia or young-onset Parkinson’s. In June I’ll learn whether I have to undergo more tests or if the doctor has already made a decision.

How did you not know you were having spasms?

Here’s how that was explained to me: “A spasm is an involuntary muscle contraction. It can be short or sustained. Your neck being stuck like that was the spasm.”

Why didn’t your doctors pick up on it sooner?

In the past they noticed my shakiness and clumsiness and attributed it to dehydration, thyroid disease or sleep-deprivation. Muscle rigidity was chalked up to arthritis. No one’s going to look at a young woman with a handful of longstanding diagnoses and think “Ah, dystonia!” (which is rather uncommon) or “Maybe it’s early Parkinson’s.” The odds favored it being part of an old problem, not a new one.

But wasn’t your neck visibly screwed up?

Cervical dystonia is rare enough that it’s unlikely to be caught by anyone but a neurologist unless your case is quite severe. When I mentioned unyielding neck tightness and muscle fatigue to other specialists throughout this saga, their response was usually “You’re probably sleeping funny,” which seemed possible given the difficulties I had with sleep.

What was wrong with your underarm?

There’s still no consensus about it. The neurologist said it will take several rounds of Botox injections to determine if it’s related to the rigid shoulder she’s trying to relax. Enlarged lymph nodes might’ve been a red herring caused by my overactive immune system.

Can you explain your neurological symptoms?

It’s an embarrassingly long and varied list, which is why it took a movement disorder specialist (MDS) to connect everything. Some of these go back to 2013 or earlier, which has been painful to realize; others are more recent. First of all, the MDS found dystonia, rigidity, bradykinesia and tremor during my exam. To that you can add balance issues, shoulder pain and stiffness, hand cramping, reduced arm swing, diminished sense of smell, and a litany of disruptive sleep problems including myoclonic jerks, waking up startled for no reason (throughout the night), and difficulty sleeping. Mostly things that were easy to write off as stress or arthritis-related.

Are you surprised by this?

For almost two years now I’ve known something was seriously wrong and I expected that once it was figured out, my life would probably change. But I hadn’t counted on anything neurological, so that was a surprise.

What do you think about it?

What I think doesn’t matter; I learned that early and often. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, I’ve written in the past about an illness I’ve had for nearly as long as I’ve been alive. That experience, and a brief flirtation with alternative health nonsense a decade ago, taught me that the best approach to medical matters, even when they’re scary, is to be realistic about it. I can’t rewire my immune system or shovel more dopamine into my brain, so I’ll defer to my doctors’ expertise while looking for humor in the situation.

How is Crankenstein?

She was initially quite upset and almost seemed aggravated that I wasn’t more worked up myself. Her perspective is that of both a spouse and a physician, which makes things tougher on her because she has fears and concerns that aren’t on my radar in quite the same way. An example of this is how differently we felt about the MDS prescribing levodopa. I was willing to try anything that might improve use of my left arm, while Crankenstein dreaded the implications of a favorable response to it and worries that I’ll develop dyskinesia if I take it indefinitely.

What does this change?

In the long-term, who knows? Once we have a better handle on what to expect in the future, there are things Crankenstein and I will need to reevaluate and rearrange, individually and together. Our agreement has always been that she focuses exclusively on her career, which is more demanding than mine, and I take care of everything else, including her. Our 1930s-era house is another of my responsibilities and we probably won’t end up staying in it as long as we originally expected since its upkeep requires a lot of work.

In the short-term, there are lifestyle changes I need to make, including adopting an exercise regimen that’s tailored for movement disorder patients to slow disease progression. Once Crankenstein’s student loans are paid off later this year she wants me to start traveling to tennis tournaments. Originally I’d planned to do that later in life, when a friend could join me, but she thinks it’s better not to wait. Would anyone like to go to Australia and watch tennis nonstop for two weeks?

Finally, in the spirit of Inside the Actor’s Studio, what is your favorite word?

Obstreperous.

What is your least favorite word?

Normally it’s “discourse,” but currently it’s “queer,” with “neurodivergent” a close runner-up.

What sound or noise do you love?

Beach Boys harmonies.

What sound or noise do you hate?

My dog’s early-morning breakfast cries, when she carries on like a tragedienne in the grand tradition of Katharine Cornell.