Brokener
I was a bent, simian, Chaplinesque shuffling question mark when I woke up this morning, so I made an appointment to see a doctor between my classes (I had a group presentation in the first one), correctly predicting that I probably wouldn't make the later one. It was hard to hide my pain at school, hunched over as I was, looking like I was carrying an imaginary piano, but that didn't mean I'd take insults lying down.
I told the doctor my life story, said I was being seen by other doctors for the five-year-long back issue, but I was more immediately concerned that I'd been 5-foot-7 the last four days. He prescribed a torodol shot (muscle relaxer) into my back, flexeril, and tylenol with codeine, as well as an X-Ray and MRI, since he said I'd need that for my Ortho appointment in two weeks. He also said my blood pressure was very high, though he thought that might be because of the pain.
He went to DOCTOR school for that kind of diagnosis.
He was also the first doc to bring up the possibility of someone convening a Medical Evaluation Board if I couldn't get into shape. Which means (most likely) getting kicked out of the military. As if I wasn't already aware of the consequences looming over me these five years, can you just get me out of pain, you cold heartless prick?
After about an hour, the shot kicked in so I could finally stand up and walk normally, though the back was still very tender. But at least I could render a proper salute to those walking by, as opposed to, you know, ants.
I am sick of hospitals, sick of telling the same stories, sick of trying to remember what medications they've already tried. Sick of the time away from my wife and, in some cases, personal expenses that have been required:
"Dan!" Rich said. "You look awful!"
I punched him in the shoulder.
"What's up with your back?"
"Oh! My back, you meant."
I told the doctor my life story, said I was being seen by other doctors for the five-year-long back issue, but I was more immediately concerned that I'd been 5-foot-7 the last four days. He prescribed a torodol shot (muscle relaxer) into my back, flexeril, and tylenol with codeine, as well as an X-Ray and MRI, since he said I'd need that for my Ortho appointment in two weeks. He also said my blood pressure was very high, though he thought that might be because of the pain.
He went to DOCTOR school for that kind of diagnosis.
He was also the first doc to bring up the possibility of someone convening a Medical Evaluation Board if I couldn't get into shape. Which means (most likely) getting kicked out of the military. As if I wasn't already aware of the consequences looming over me these five years, can you just get me out of pain, you cold heartless prick?
After about an hour, the shot kicked in so I could finally stand up and walk normally, though the back was still very tender. But at least I could render a proper salute to those walking by, as opposed to, you know, ants.
I am sick of hospitals, sick of telling the same stories, sick of trying to remember what medications they've already tried. Sick of the time away from my wife and, in some cases, personal expenses that have been required:
- Military Chiropractor
- Traction
- E-stems
- Steroid Injection
- Civilian Chiropractor
- Surgery
- Pool Physical Therapy (Aqua-aerobics with old people)
- Military Chiropractor
- Civilian Acupuncture
- Civilian Massage therapy
- Steroid Injection
- Military Acupuncture
- Steroid Injection
- Chocolate Hydrotheryapy (okay, that was fun)
- Traction (Spinal Decompression)
- Torodol Injection
- Drugs, drugs, drugs, drugs
posted by Dan at 10:51 PM
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