After the debacle of the hula hoop competition, I hung up my dreams of taking my talent to the Olympics. After a few weeks of horrible pain and the reminder that I was no longer a spring chicken, I started to feel better.
Of course, the contact at the insurance company for my work comp claim didn’t see it as that big of a deal, which in turn made the whole ordeal even more painful than my poor back. As time went on, the more I discussed it with her, the less she was willing to listen. So I took it to our corporate office and instantly, she changed her tune. Of course, the underscore to that is a very bitter, pissy score.
I did what she told me to do, she then took a month to carry out her part of the deal, which was to schedule an appointment for me to see a specialist. While I am feeling much better and only feel a twinge ever now and again, I really wanted to start exercising again but I did not want to hurt myself in the process.
So more X-rays, turn here, bend there, does that hurt? And on and on went the questions and directions. Then it came time to check my reflexes. I almost took the doctor out with my right leg. He did it again, same reaction. I just kind of laughed and said, yeah, that is a normal reaction. After mumbling medical jargon to the nurse and a slightly concerned look on his face he pushes back to his side of the room.
Then he asks me to come closer so I can look at my X-rays with him. He again does the medical speak, mentions an anti-inflammatory to the nurse and physical therapy. I was happy with the PT, since that will build up my lower back muscles and therefore, I won’t harm myself trying to exercise. Then he has me go and sit again.
According to him, I have “brisk reflexes” and that is a sign of all kinds of things. He said it could just me a compression in my neck around my spinal cord. Umm, okay, English please? More than likely it is nothing but he said that he would recommend an MRI. Well, since I have to pay for that, it is going to have to go on my list of things to do at some point. . .
So off I go with my new meds (which make me very sleepy, so there goes that twice a day thing) and the next round of waiting for my claims rep to approve the PT. I am hoping I can start that at least by the beginning of October. I wouldn’t be shocked if she dragged her feet until Christmas to approve it. To say that I am not impressed with her ability at her job would be an understatement.
So I get home and do what any normal, obsessive control freak would do, I called upon Dr. Google himself to see what ails me. According to him, I could have had a stroke, a hemorrhage, a lesion on my brain, MS and a number of other illnesses.
The doctor (the real one) asked if I lost my balance from time to time. Umm, dude, I trip over my feet with no help, I fall up stairs and I have been known to almost take a dive off my chair from time to time at work. I am clumsy. Hmm, says the good doc.
Really, I am just a klutz. But I can tear down a kitchen to the studs with no problems okay?