New Shoes

About a month ago my back began to hurt. I think I told you guys, it started out like other times when I danced too much or worked out too hard. This time it progressively got worse. When I got to the point that I couldn’t walk, I went to the emergency room. Then I went to a doctor once the holiday weekend was over. I was sent for an MRI which showed a severely herniated disk. I saw the MRI myself! And although I am the least medical person you know it was amazing seeing where the black part suddenly jutted out and onto my nerves, sending pain down my leg. I saw it with my own two eyes!

I was told it was way beyond being helped by physical therapy, but a block might help. Tim even asked if we would do a series of blocks, like he had done years ago. They said that we would have to make some decisions after one. We  had all sorts of delays because the office didn’t write some letter they were supposed to send the day I was there, but finally two weeks later I got an epidural block. It did not help. They had said it might not and to come back a week after the block to see if we needed to talk surgery. I keep saying “they” because I never actually met the doctor. He never came in the room. I talked to nurses and a really nice Nurse Practitioner, but never the actual doctor. On the Monday after the Friday block procedure, I decided to just go back to acting normal. I started my morning stretching and yoga, taught my drama class, went to the grocery store, etc. for a week to see what I really felt like. Three weeks of sitting around had turned my body, mind and spirit to mush. It was time to go back to being me!

After a week of that, I realized I still hurt and I needed to go see the doctor to figure out the next step. And that is where I found myself today. I had looked at my schedule to see when I could do surgery, and what questions I have about recovery, etc. The Nurse Practitioner came in, asked if the block helped, I told her no and she went for the doctor. She came back and said he wanted some X-rays. That made no sense to me, but I am a good patient and I am not medical (see above) so I went. I was positioned in ridiculous poses that hurt on an extremely hard table. But I did each and every pose, on my back, on my side, in a ball, and on and on. Then I went back to the room to wait. And wait. And wait…

Finally the doctor came in and introduced himself. As the third date rule crossed my mind, I thought maybe the third appointment rule was now that you actually met the doctor! He asked me immediately  what my pain level was on a scale of 1-10. I told him about 5 (I hate that question!) He looked at me and said, “Now, Ms. Lunceford. Zero is no pain and 10 is the worst pain ever endured in the whole history of the world.” I have no idea how the worst pain ever endured in the whole history of the world feels! I know what 36 hours of intense labor feels like. I know what coughing through bronchitis days after having my tonsils removed feels like. I know what watching your 4 year old scratch the chicken pocks on his eyeballs, crying out, “Mommy, make it stop!” feels like. (For reference, the child crying for something I was helpless to fix hurt the worst!) But that is all I’ve got really. The doctor said again, “Now what is your pain level?” And I said. “Right now a 5, but it has been a 6 or 7 at times through this ordeal.” And he said, and I quote, “Now Ms. Lunceford. That is an exaggeration, isn’t it?” I was floored. I wanted to say, “Look dumb ass- you asked the ridiculous question. It hurts, OK? More than anything I can remember and it has hurt now for over a month. Stop asking asinine questions and fix it!!” Instead I said softly, “It really hurts.”

Then he asked me to put on some horrible, navy, paper shorts. And then he begins to twirl me like a pretzel. Bends my legs, bends me back and over and around. And I, being super flexible (always have been) let him. Some things hurt, some things didn’t hurt any worse than just standing still, which hurts! And then he looked at me and said, “I think you have a sore tailbone, so try not to sit too much and maybe you have some arthritis in your hip because you are old, although I don’t see it, so we will get you some physical therapy and you’ll be fine.” I sat there with my mouth open and thought, “Wait, what??” I thought how they showed me the herniated disk, how they told me I was too far gone for physical therapy, how I had already gone through a block and how I was in pain, REAL PAIN! (Be thankful I don’t use the F word!) So I say, in my nice, sweet southern voice, “But what about my MRI? What about the bad disk?” And after he got past his momentary look of confusion he said, and I quote, ” You are old and most old people have a bad disk.” And quickly left the room before I could say another word. (I don’t care if I was 97, which I am not, calling me old, again, goes way beyond poor bedside manner!)

I sat there in shock, slowly got dressed and left. I hobbled to my car. And then I did what any furious woman in huge amounts of pain does. I went to buy shoes. Lots of shoes. I have not been myself for weeks. I haven’t dressed cute, I haven’t felt cute. I haven’t done things I wanted, or done the things I usually do. I went looking for help and what did I get? Contradicting diagnoses from the same doctor’s office and being called a liar and OLD! TWICE! All any self respecting woman can do is go buy shoes. Oh, and then call the doctor’s office, ask them to put my MRI at the front desk so I can pick it up and take it to my new doctor! It’s amazing how new shoes can make me think more clearly. A fabulous pair of booties and new patent leather, red flats can clear your mind and make you realize- you are the customer! They might have the medical knowledge, but I have the check book. It can buy shoes and pay for a doctor that actually sees his patients, looks at their MRI and tries to help.