Moving On
By Citronella on Thursday, June 5 2008, 22:43 - Permalink
I arrived at the bus stop with ten minutes to spare. Surprisingly, my bus was not there yet; as this stop is it leaving point, it is usually there way ahead of time. I sat down on the bench and opened my book. Without thinking about it, I scratched an itch on my left shoulder. And then it dawned on me; I looked at the burning spot and realized, sweet, I have a sunburn. Blame the lunch in the sun, not putting any sunscreen on this morning because the weather was, then, cool and cloudy, and not correcting that with the lotion I keep in my office before heading to lunch. "I'd better get damn good at curing cancer,'' I thought.
Focusing my mind on a more urgent problem, I started to worry about my bus. Why was the damn thing not here? Buses were pulling in, people would get off or step in, and they would roll away. But of my bus? No sign. What could I do? I narrowed down the possibilities pretty quickly and fetched for my cell phone.
And then a bus with the correct number arrived, ten minutes late. It came to a halt, and the noise of the engine died off. I walked towards the front doors; the driver was opening them. "Leaving in twenty minutes," she said. Great. That's the next bus. And twenty minutes was exactly how much time I had left to get to my appointment.
I unlocked the cell phone keypad, and called the Fabulous Feline. "Are you busy right now?" I asked. When he answered that, well, no, not really, and what was going on, I explained: "Is there any way you can drive me to the women's health care center by three thirty? The bus I was supposed to take was sucked in by a black hole, it would appear." We agreed to meet on the opposite side of campus (I was already walking in this direction). I tried to run, but the worst effect of the medication right now is that I am constantly out of breath, which is not exactly improved by running.
Eventually, I hoped in the car, thanking him repeatedly and confusedly, and off we went. "I've asked my contact at the company were I worked last summer," he said after a few minutes of chit-chat. "They've already filled in all the open position in his department," he said. "Even internships. But he's going to ask around. They might have something in this other department I don't like all that much," he added. "It would still bring money in, I guess", I said. "It's not as if you really hated..."
"Damn!" he yelled. "Did we just missed the exit?". I couldn't really tell, because I was looking at him and not at the roadsigns, but it looked a lot like if we had just passed it. "It's fine," I said. We still had seven minutes. "Just take the next exit." So we took the next exit. And the car in front of us came to a halt, unable to start again. Eventually we were about to drive around it.
After an incredible number of red lights, he stopped the car right in front of the building. "Thanks so much," I said. "Don't worry about me; you just go run your errands and I'll take the bus back home. I need to stop at the store that's just across the bus stop, in any case." I kissed him, pressed his hand, and rushed out of the car.
I entered the building, feeling sweaty from the hurrying up and the scarf I had wrapped around my sunburned shoulders so as to protect them from the sun. The lift took ages to come, but I stepped into the reception a few minutes before my physical therapist was ready and had time to sign in and sit down for a few minutes before we got started.
"So," she said. "I guess you have plenty to report!"
"Well, I have to report that there is nothing to report, I'm afraid..." I told her what the back doctor said. She pouted. "Not very helpful, eh?" No, not really. She said I might have to go see another specialist, one who is aware of this kind of issues. She could not believe the doctor said I was fine ‒ not with all this pain and spasms! I changed into a hospital gown, and she checked on me, finding the tender spots and making them give in (not all, but a little). Then she worked from the outside. "I have to find a way to get to your pudendal nerve externally," she said. She pressed on some spots on the inside of my thighs and outside of my vagina. "Ough!" I screamed. "This one really hurts. The burning sensation... you got the nerve alright!".
"You definitely seem to have some kind of pudendal neuropathy", she said. ''I want you to schedule your next appointment with the other physical therapist of the group," she added. "She'll have a fresh look at your issues and might come up with good ideas."
She exited the room, and I cleaned up and got dressed. Then I went home, stopping at the store at the bus stop on my way.
It could be pudendal nerve entrapment. This is like carpal tunnel syndrome, but with the pudendal nerve instead of whatever nerve it is that gets entrapped in your wrist to cause carpal tunnel syndrome. It could be some other kind of pudendal neuropathy. It could be something else entirely. So I am not letting the pudendal nerve entrapment websites out there guzzle me in and frighten me with their stories.
As I cannot do so earlier (for dull and boring reasons), I am going to wait until Monday, and schedule an appointment with the other physical therapist, hopefully for the end of June. And we'll proceed from then on.
Comments
Fingers crossed for your next appointment.
At least you're getting somewhere.
Hoping it all works out for you
OK, I'm annoyed. You have a problem, the treatment of which is affecting your ability to breathe and think and live, and people keep shrugging and telling you to wait? What the hell is wrong? I guess I've worked with too many aggressive doctors to accept people who keep referring you to other people and pushing back any sort of useful diagnosis. I don't want you to be in pain. And so I'm Not Pleased with the medical care you're receiving.
Apart from that, many good wishes for Fabulous Feline and job stuff. And take care of your sunburn, poor thing.
Brennig > Thanks.
Amy > As long as she does not send me back home saying that she has no idea what else we can do for me next, I'm fine.
Katie > My physical therapist is wonderful. She has really helped a whole lot during the past *counts on fingers* twenty months and thanks to her the pain is really, really less than what it used to be. She is always contemplating new methods and solutions, going to workshop to keep up with the latest knowledge in the field, and trying to think out of the box. But I think she might have a hard time seeing the big picture now, and me seeing her colleague is a good idea. The medication is an idea from one of my doctors (acting on what my PT reports to her) and I think it would be unfair to dismiss it until I have reach the highest dosage she recommended, which I will try next week.
But the back doctor? Clearly not at his best on that. The more I think of it, and the less pleased I am with how he dealt with the situation.