This may have been the longest two weeks of my life to date. Grab a cuppa, as there is no restriction as to its contents. Snuggle into a rocker. I will turn on the fans. Let’s talk.
Like the entire rest of the country, the Third Circle of Hell (TCH henceforth) was covered in what is considered a crippling amount of snow, namely 6ish inches. Since people on or south of the Mason-Dixon line have no idea what to do in those conditions, they did what people here excel at… nothing. My entire week after my trip was cancelled.
One thing which was cancelled was advanced today, but it is a topic for a much later date. Its posts are written, but on ice. When the time is right, you, too, shall know. The other thing which was cancelled was finally rescheduled, although I am livid at the results.
Some of you may recall I recently called for a medical break the day after my birthday. This week, I finally received the results from my MRI. Waiting nearly a month for results is barbaric to my mind, and I only got them Monday because I flatly refused to wait an additional six weeks for the “next available appointment”. With sufficient explanation to the receptionist sentenced to rescheduling everyone whose appointments were missed because my county was at home quaking in fear (Not cold, everyone had heat.), she overbooked me and agreed to take the heat from the physician. She is a star in my book.
The doctor with a standard MD and an additional specialty in neurology, not so much. His answer to me was, You don’t have what I thought you did, which is good.
The radiologist who read my MRI did not see what the neurologist had put on the order for him to determine. This means my results were negative. This does not mean something is not wrong. It only means the guess my doctor ventured was all which was even contemplated.
At this juncture I am compelled to add, no mention was made of the condition with which I was diagnosed years ago: degenerative disk disease, despite the fact it could play a factor in my current pathology. Rather than suggest something more definitive, the single answer I was given was a prescription for pain medication.
Over the course of my life, every doctor who has ever seen me for pain (and most who saw me for non-pain) has made an unsuccessful attempt to medicate me for pain. I flatly refuse pain med until I reach a level where I can no longer function at a basic level, which means sitting or standing for more than 15 minutes.
I have been through physical therapy (PT) to alleviate some of it and maintain a modicum of regular PT to cope. My answer to the neurologist was simple: I am non-compliant. Prescribe what you want, but I will not be taking anything until the pain is killing me.
Are you insane?
No, frankly. A list is in order for validation.
1. Pain is a symptom of something wrong. Medicating pain without identifying its source is as fruitless as putting tape on a crack in a dam.
2. Pain med at the level commensurate with my level of pain has narcotic effects: sleep induction and addiction. I have young children who need me awake and cognizant. My body’s natural resistance to the meds reduces the chance I could become addicted but increases the chance they will be ineffective until the dose is high enough for overdose given my body weight and produces mental deficiencies up to and including brain damage.
3. If I wanted my senses dulled, there are far more fun ways of doing it than some pill.
So, now what?
Now, we wait. I have trips planned to see Big V and #1 grandson with new grandson and to bring Middle V to see us. Somewhere in the middle, I have to schedule a trip to civilization to see a real doctor. Perhaps, I would be better served with a trip to a witch doctor. At least that would be entertaining.
Until next time,
Why do professionals look for assumed-lesser others to make judgments and claim them as their own? Does anyone still take pride in being thorough?
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