Jen, who, by the by, is 11-1/2 years younger than me, has been having some pretty intense back pain and spasms. She’s only copped to having them, to me anyway, in the past week. This means she’s been experiencing them for at least a month. She did see her primary care doc this week. They talked about it and Jen was given a referral to physical therapy.
My thought? What, no MRI? Granted, I’m no medic but still … automatically prescribing PT seems inadequate, hasty, perfunctory.
Well, Thursday morning, as our hero was getting out of bed, she had a spasm so severe she passed out from the pain! As she toppled to the floor, her head bashed against the windowsill. Oni immediately whisked her away to Mass General’s ER.
On the way there she was, incredibly, in a fine enough state to text Ten and I to let us know:- She had fallen so wouldn't be stopping by before work. (ummmm, the first part was the most important bit, little Missy!)
- That she and Oni were on the way to MGH's ER but she was mostly okay (yeah sure, Babe).
I was panicking! I felt astoundingly useless — unable to do ANYTHING to make things better for one of THE most important persons in my life. Was there anything at all that I could do to help? Not really. I could crack wise — I can usually make Jen laugh and, as Readers Digest (an unimpeachable source, of course) has long told us, laughter is the best medicine. During her ER sojourn, as she went from CT scans to different exam offices to various rooms where her split lips and broken nose were stitched up and glued back together, I sent a few dark, ridiculous texts.
Meanwhile, I’m home having panic fits AND, conveniently, a Zoom appointment with my therapist, Janice. I discovered that part of my panic was related to the fact that none of the docs seemed to be zeroing in on the cause of her fall — the extremely painful back spasm. I mean, what the diagnostic fuck?!!
This brought up wretched memories of when I almost, permanently, lost all feeling and mobility from my tits down (this was 25 years ago). I was experiencing weakness and numbness in my left leg. My new insurance-approved PCP kept telling me I had sciatica and it would clear up in a month. It didn’t and, in fact, got worse to the point that I was beginning to walk like Quasi Modo. The doc knew I had NF2 but was clearly not a big picture, 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle problem solver type. Eventually, I demanded the doc give me an insurance-okayed referral to my MGH neurologists because her diagnosis was OBVIOUS bullshit. She did though I had to jump through more hoops first. By the time I got into MGH I was in dire straits. I had a fast MRI and an immediate appointment with one of the best neurosurgeons who wanted me in the OR yesterday. There was a mass of tumors on my thoracic spine the size of the Nimitz.
Lesson? We must always advocate for ourselves in everything. I can trust my doctors, lawyers, financial advisers, plumbers, repairmen, electricians, etc. BUT I NEED to be involved, informed, and have all my questions answered to my satisfaction. Not doing this can cost me my life. Do I need to know as much as the professionals? No but I need to be able to think clearly, critically, ask questions, and get clear, thorough answers. I need to be awake and aware — no blind trusting. Dammit.
In Jen’s case, what we NEED to know is this — WHAT is the root cause of her back spasms and pain? Don’t just treat her damn symptoms — go to the source of the problem. FFS!
So, Thursday I was home feeling useless. Worried that Jen was dying and I was in no position to make the docs pay better fucking attention. Then I remembered that we’re due to fly to Iceland Sunday evening for our long-planned holiday at the lux geothermal lagoon. Yeah, that’s not happening anymore. I could at least be useful and cancel our flights and hotel reservations and, hopefully, get refunds. (Yes on flights but, very sadly, no on the spa) Maybe we'll be able to go there again someday. Maybe not. It depends on our health and finances.
Jen came over to visit yesterday but texted first to warn me that she looked like she had a serious case of Mar-A-Lago face gone bad. Hmmmmm. Honestly? Mar-A-Lago face already looks like Dr. Frankenstein was more than a bit tipsy when he reached for his scalpels. So, how bad could it be?
How’s our girl look? While there’s definite swelling, she would definitely NOT fit in with the scary crowd at that tacky joint in Florida. No, there will be no pictures at this time.
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