Today, I had an appointment with my chronic pain specialist. He definitely had the McDreamy thing going on- in fact, his hair was even longer and since he already walks everywhere incredibly fast, he reminds me of Hugh Grant in the movie "Music and Lyrics" a slightly neurotic rock star.
I always drive to my once every three-four months appointment with a certain amount of trepidation as relatives always load me up with lots of questions to ask in my generally five minute appointment. Please don't get me wrong, he is a very nice and caring doctor but he is overworked and sees patient after patient in pain...it's difficult to be fully in the game with that type of schedule.
I wait for only twenty minutes and scan my small list of questions carefully thinking of how I can cover these off in the appointment. He suddenly appears and calls me in by name, something I definitely appreciate. We do the customary greeting and when he asks me how I am doing, I answer honestly that I have truly struggled in the past four months and that the level of pain and my new arthritis pain has rendered me quite depressed.
I should mention that I am being treated for nerve pain caused by severe scoliosis that was diagnosed when I was twelve years old. I was fortunate enough at that time to have a stellar young surgeon who did a tremendous job of fusing my entire spine except for L4 and L5. It was the dreaded "S" curve that pulls all your spine and muscles one way at the top and the opposite way at the bottom- basically your spine is a mess. But this post is not meant for the details of that operation but rather what I face now-today.
So, after my rather bleak answer to my handsome doctor, I study his face to see if there is any reaction to what I have said but there is nothing, he is too busy looking at my chart. I know that he heard what I had said and that is must be truly difficult for him because to delve into the sadness involved having chronic pain could take hours so I actually understand why he needs to remain detached. We evaluate what medications I am currently taking (practically everything possible) and we agree that I need to go for my lower back injections (HORRAY, they hurt like hell but are necessary). "Hugh" ends the appointment with a beaming smile and says that we will re-access in three months. I was wondering...."Yes," he frowns rather impatiently as we need to keep things moving. So, then I ask about one of my concerns over a potentially frightening side effects to one of my newer medications but am reassured that it won't affect me. Well, that's good news, I suppose and together, we walk off to his nurse where I watch him at the speed of light, write out a couple prescriptions for me before he says goodbye.
My movie star's nurse is quite the character herself, low-cut blouses and lots of jewelry and a superior attitude that rubs me the wrong way. She seems to pick up that I'm not too impressed by her and gives me a bad time about one of my prescriptions saying that "OH, SIGH," I have to type out this letter AGAIN because "OH SIGH," the prescription has lapsed so you might has well take a seat."
"Holy Mackerel, " I think silently to myself, it must be quite the letter because SHE was VERY PUT OUT. Ten slow minutes pass while I wonder if I can walk fast enough to my vehicle before a ticket and then suddenly the good fairy announces, "Your letter is finished," and proceeds to fold it three times before handing it too me. I felt like a chastised child, I didn't mean for the prescription to lapse... sometimes the appointments are so long in between that it can happen...how fortunate am I to have such a kind nurse to take her time to do this letter for me....OH WAIT, isn't that part of her job? Imagine my surprise when later after arriving home, I unfolded the precious letter to see ONE SENTENCE TYPED OUT, I actually laughed out loud.
I walk to my vehicle feeling the exact same way as I usually do after my appointments, a sense of sadness that despite the many medications, I still truly suffer. I hate putting all that stuff in my body and at the the end of the day, I still am just holding on.
BUT, in that same moment, I remember that I AM HOLDING ON so that is something, I guess.
Now, I get to phone my worried mom and grandmother to basically tell them nothing because so far my condition remains a challenge and there is no magic cure to fix a broken spine. I dread these calls because I know they want to heart more positive news but it just isn't the day for that. So, just before I make my first call, I take a long look at the beautiful blue sky and hope that a better treatment is on the horizon. Just like all the other people who are fighting a health challenge, we need to keep hopeful and be thankful to the doctors who continue to research better ways to treat all of us.
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