So I've dedicated
the last year and a half to going to the doctors. I came back from China for
primarily medical reasons (more on that another time) and because I felt I
needed to have more comprehensive medical care than I had in Beijing. More on that
at another time, too, but my health insurance was only good in Asia.
The most
recent gauntlet of specialists has been addressing, since 1 July, the: knee
pain; the discomfort that turned into sciatica that turned into a snake
writhing from deep in my right butt cheek, eating it's way through my thigh and
my already delicate knee, and down my shin and finally sinking it's fangs into
the inside of my right ankle; the tingling, then numbness in my hands and
fingers, and then pain in my palms and wrists and forearms; the depression--against
which plenty of love and help I seem to have minimal defenses--that accompanies
my little physical ailments. It seemed
to begin all at once, driving down the M1 in England, when I couldn’t get my
hands and arms and legs and hips comfortable. I'm perfectly aware that--in the
midst of my troubles, good friends have had breast and thyroid cancer and many
others have had health problems this year--there are far more serious health
problems people face in the world every day.
These issues, while uncomfortable, don't stop me from taking pleasure in
life, don't stop me from traveling, and only stop me from working when I let
them. (Sometimes I'm willing to let
them.) But they are besetting and they're getting worse.
My general
practice doctor thought maybe carpal tunnel especially as I came up positive
for the antibody. or whatever it is that comes up in a blood test, for
Rheumatoid Arthritis. So he sent me to a
rheumatologist, who, after further blood tests for Rheumatoid Arthritis, Lyme
Disease, HIV, and half a dozen other things including thyroid, said, nope, no
rheumatoid factor. I'm healthy. Which in rheumatologist-speak means:
"You don't have what I tested you for." He sent me on to a Neurologist
(and, you know, "It takes forever to get an appointment with a
neurologist.") whom I saw a month later. He said, "Looks like carpal
tunnel." "We'll do an EMG
(Electromyogram) in which after determining a baseline of how your legs and
arms carry electricity by increasing levels of electroshock up and down your
legs, hands and feet, we’ll place small needles in your muscles and determine
how the nerves carry impulses down your legs and arms into your hands and
feet." But that test couldn't be
scheduled for another three weeks.
Three weeks
later he expresses astonishment that I laugh, rather than jump and groan and
complain, when he sticks needles into my thighs and biceps and watches a
readout and listens to a speaker track electricity as it works it's way into my
fingers and toes. But then he doesn't
know me very well. I told him I was surprised it was the neurologist instead of
a tech who was doing this. He explained that it took extensive, particular
training and it was hard to learn to nerve impulses. We had a brief conversation about sex toys.
"Listen?"
I ask.
"Your
legs sounds good." That's a relief.
"Your hands are bad. Bad Bad, You have bad carpal tunnel."
"Let's
see if it gets better in a couple of months, and maybe look into surgery."
"Lets
check into surgery now. I have a $6,000
deductible that I've burned through with these tests, and I'd like to do any
further procedures on this year's tab."
Three days
later I'm at the surgeon's. "Well, looking at the test results and the
neurologist's report, You have severe carpal tunnel, and the only thing that will
relieve it is surgery."
"It will
get better?"
"No,
you already have severe nerve damage"
"So it
will make the tingling and pain go away?"
"No,
it will prevent further damage." He went into a parable about a garden
hose (my median nerve) which waters the grass (my ring, middle, index fingers
and thumb). "Your grass is yellowed to
brown, almost dead. See that muscle at the base of your thumb? See how mine's nice and round [he had a nice,
round muscle]? And see how yours is flat?" He paused to let me ponder my pathetic lawn/thumb-base muscle.
"Fine."
I said, a little embarrassed about my poor gardening/physique. Will it make the pain in my palm and wrist
and arm go away?"
"No.
That's something else. We can refer you
to sports medicine. It looks like
tendonitis."
"So it
won't fix anything except keep the lawn from dying?"
"Right."
Next day
back at the neurologist, the first thing he says is, "Throw away the
letter I wrote to you about your issues."
"Pardon
me?"
"I got
the neurologist's report, and just read the first half that said your legs were
fine so I wrote to tell you that you were fine."
"Uhh..."
"Just
throw it away. I think I was distracted.
I guess I'm over-worked. I only
read the first half of the report."
"Not
knowing quite the polite thing to say, I asked him about the surgeon's
prognosis. He agreed. Carpal Tunnel. Severe.
No, don't wait." and "No it won't fix the pain or the
numbness, but it will keep it from getting worse."
So I'm
having surgery (not arthroscopic--"more complications") on my left
(the marginally worse) hand (hence the insane trouble with d's, e's and c's and
pretty much any other letter I type with my left hand)(You should hear what the
surgeon said about gyms.)) later this month, and the right hand later in
November. I can't go into the ocean or
pool or gym until the middle of December so I'm making up for it like crazy
this week. Waah, Waah, right?
Oh, and to
add injury to insult, Rheumatologist said, "You should have taken care of
this right away."
When I said
that I'd been trying to see doctors and get appointments and had three MRIs (my
spine's worn but in great shape, otherwise, you'll be happy to know), since
July 1st, he shrugged.
And none of
the three has an observation as to why or how this happened. Not their job. Maybe bicycling on the
California Lifecycle ride in 2008?
"Oh, and no bicycling."
