Prisoner of Life

You are a combatant captured by the enemy during a war.  Your captors believe you possess valuable information they wish to extract.  What does your foreseeable future hold?

 Solitary Confinement:

Him: You are thrown into a cell; solitary confinement.  No contact with the outside world.

Me: As of April 2022, I can no longer step into our car.  I now rely on the unreliable public disability transport if I wish to leave my house.  I have done so 14 times in the last 19 months--all for medical appointments.  My world is what I can see from my windows.

Sensory Deprivation:

Him: You are deprived of everything but concrete walls and steel bars.  Your memories are your only source of entertainment.  Perhaps a Red Cross worker might be allowed to see you for an instance.

Me: I'm not so bad off, but I don't watch television; I don't play video games or board or card games.  While I have books and music, one cannot read or listen endlessly.  Friends have dies, moved or have problems of their own.  Contact is rare.

Physical Assaults:

Him: You are removed from your cell and beaten so bad it leaves you black and blue, swollen with joint and muscles sprained.  Perhaps they might pull out your fingernails or drill holes into your teeth in order to play with your nerves.  Fun and games...

Me: In April 2022, I experienced spasms so severe that I felt each contraction was attempting to tear my leg from my hip.  Spasms so explosive that I screamed on each "detonation".  The leg was so sprained that I could place no weight upon it.  Lesser spasms now continue nightly.  I have sciatic hip/nerve pain which I've described to the doctor as "the devil hammering a hot nail into my hip with each heartbeat".  I've prayed for my heart to stop.  Add to that the torn tendons I have in each shoulder for which the Osteopathic doctor said nothing [at my age] could be done to repair the damage.  Broke a tooth while confined.  Cannot get to my dentist and even if I could, could I now get onto the examination bench?

Sleep Deprivation:

Him: You are intentionally kept awake by your captors.  They shake you awake every time your eyes close.  They may blast loud music at you day and night; they may flood your cell with blinding light.  Your mind plays games with you when you haven't slept properly for long periods.

Me: Nightly spasms: Every night one leg or the other will begin to repeatedly bounce.  It starts with an indescribable creepy feeling for which there is no comparison in non-paraplegic life; you want to jump out of your own skin, but of course you can't jump.  You have no escape.  Every 15 to 20 seconds, the spasms lift one leg from the bed, then slam it back down.  Over, and over, and over... They can last for an hour or two but have lasted for 8 continuous hours on one occasion.  You cannot sleep with the devil lifting and slamming you leg upon the bed for hours at a time.

Electrical Shocks:

Him: You're taken from your cell, restrained and electrodes placed upon your private parts or elsewhere.  Jolts of electricity are sent through your body.

Me: Without notice an "electrical shock" hits some point from the groin downwards.  They certainly feel just like electrical shocks.  There are two manifestations: Pinpoint shocks just as if someone jabbed you with a straight needle; wave shocks similar to what you would feel if you touched a live 120V wire.  Pinpoints can occur anywhere from the groin downward.  Wave shocks are usually in the ball or the arch of the foot.  The repeat but usually fade out after a minute.

Unrelenting Discomfort:

Him: In your unheated cell, you suffer endlessly with the unrelenting cold that permeates you bones.

Me: I have unrelenting burning from my knees downward--neurogenic pain on which drugs have little or no effect.  Cold or heat, its permanence cannot be ignored.  Your mind constantly reminds you of the discomfort from which you cannot escape.

Me: Discomfort in my incapacity to use muscles as an ambulatory person would.  Muscles deteriorate, tendons shorten, contractures between layers of tissues occur.  Your body fights you.

Granted, my situation may not compare directly to that of the tortured soldier, but I believe there are significant parallels. 

I've come to the realization that there is not much else that can be done about my situation, fewer still in the medical profession who would care to try.

End for the captive soldier's situation might come about in two ways: He may be liberated from his torturers by an advancing army or an armistice between the combatants; or his captors may just kill him outright.  Either way your torment ends [except perhaps for PTSD, etc.].

For myself, I've given up hope on any sort of medical resolution.  There's nothing on the medical horizon that would liberate me from this pain and anguish.  My only other option would be some sort of miraculous biblical intervention but I'm not counting on it.

Perhaps Artificial Intelligence (AI), still in its nascent

They May Listen, But Do They Hear?

 Listening and hearing are different!

Are you listening to the words spill from my mouth while dreaming about this upcoming weekend?  Did you understand?  Did my words have any impact?  Do you sense my desperation?  Will you follow up with pertinent questions or offer valid suggestions?  Did the impact of my words move you towards finding a resolution to my dilemma?

In the previous post I wrote about my two new doctors that I have yet to meet and their "Miss-Two-Hats" clinical assistant go between.  A pleasant person to be sure, but my words, my frustration, my desperation, simply had no impact.

I reiterated my various pains:

• Neuogenic nerve pain - burning from the knees to the toes
• Sciatic hip pain - hurts on a good day; on a bad day if feels as if the devil is hammering a hot nail into my hip with every heartbeat.  I curse my heart for beating.
• Torn tendons in both shoulders; at my age, told to learn to live with the pain.
• Painful contractures in several fingers of both hands plus the beginnings of arthritis in my thumb.  Met with a plastic surgeon last spring but still unresolved.  Does the doctor no longer relay results? Is it up to the patient to chase the doctor?
• Painful leg spasms that last for hours, preventing sleep 
• Mental anguish of recently being housebound (unresolved)
  

I tried to relay my desperation; and no, I don't want narcotics.  I'm looking for some degree of relief.  I'm looking for a path forward.

I explained "Miss Two Hats" that I have no children and I have no relatives, but that I have significant pain and anxiety.  I told her that my worst fear is that I live in this state for as long as my parents lived--my mom to her mid-eighties, my dad to ninety-three.  As of April of 2022, I've become house-bound--dependent on public disability transport as I no longer able to get into our family vehicle; that issue also left unresolved by my "revolving door" of doctors in the medical community.  Life sucks!!

I followed that revelation by telling her that I've lost all faith in the Canadian medical system.

You'd think that either one of those verbal "bomb-shells" would elicit some words of understanding, perhaps sympathy (though I'm not looking for sympathy).  You'd think she might defend the medical system in which she is a participant in some capacity.  Yet it appears that my frustration, my desperation made no impact. 

She politely listened but did not hear--immediately concluding our phone conversation by saying she will follow-up (CBD oil efficacy) in the near future.  Goodbye.

I guess I had hoped in vain for suggestions as to how to proceed, how to resolve, lessen or at least manage the discomfort that envelopes my life.

*   *   *

Changing Hats

The preceding posts outline my current frustration with our medical system--how I'm on my fourth doctor in five years and my immediate problems remain unresolved.  I still want to add to the absurdity I experienced with the current medical clinic.

An appointment was made for what I believed would be a "meet & greet" initial session where the doctor and I superficially get to know each other, review current medications, discuss immediate concerns, etc., etc.

I was welcomed by a pleasant young woman who I assumed was a clinical assistant with some medical qualification. We began by discussing all the issues, as above, at some length.  I began to wonder when she would finish and bring me over to meet my new doctor.  It then dawned on me that this interview was my welcome to the new clinic.  I would not meet the doctor.

During my interview with this clinical assistant, I raised the issues of my neurogenic pain and spasms--both severely impacting the simple joy of living.  She suggested I try CBD oil (cannabis derived oil which has no euphoric, psycho-active properties).  Desperate for relief, I agreed.

 

 

Days later, I received a phone call regarding the CBD oil trial.  The young lady who questioned me identified herself but it didn't register at the time.  I now suspect it was the same woman who I interviewed me at the meet and greet.  We had gone over all that previously.  If it was her, she should have already known my answers; if not her, then the information I relayed should be in my file.  She then told me that in order to qualify I would have to be interviewed by Doctor so-and-so either in person or by a video conference.  Because of my current mobility difficulties, I chose the video conference.

Now, I'm not a fan of Microsoft's Windows operating system--they should have stopped at Windows-7 (I use Linux).  However, I have a laptop with Windows-12 or something like that.  Though I check all the parameters to the best of my ability, some permission was not set so when the allotted time arrived, I couldn't connect.  I phoned and apologized--now leaving the face-to-face interview with Dr. so-and-so as the remaining option.  I make the appointment.

I bolt on my footrest and make an appointment with disability transport.  I arrive at the clinic expecting to meet Dr. so-and-so but instead am once again greeted by the young lady who interviewed me at the initial meet-and-greet in place of my new doctor--and the person who suggested the CBD oil in the first place (most likely the same who had initially phoned me).

So I'm re-interviewed with the same questions when 1) at the initial meet-and-greet she suggested I try CBD oil; 2) she most likely interviewed me days later by phone, and now 3) I meet her again and not Dr. so-and-so face to face.

I have to wonder, why all this interrogation?  Are they making sure my story holds?  What story--that my legs burn and dance each night for hours on end?  This is not a psycho-active drug.  I can't abuse this or re-sell it as some dope peddler on the black market.

And so I have yet to meet my new family physician and I have yet to meet the cannabinoid doctor.  My only connection to this clinic has been through this clinical assistant, resident, or whatever.  She takes off the family physician hat and puts on the cannabis CBD oil hat.  I have to wonder if she has any other hats in her wardrobe.

I guess you have to show up bleeding or have some appendage dangling before an MD will grant you a face-to-face interview.

My how healthcare has changed

My Faith Shaken in Canadian Medicine -So What Now?

Oh how I miss those days when your family physician, with his little black medical bag, came to your house when you were sick.  A doctor that got to know his patients and often looking after them throughout their lives.

These days there's a waiting list to even find a doctor accepting new patients.  I've had four doctors in about 5 years.  Family physicians are considered to be standing on the lowest rung of the medical ladder.  Higher pay and prestige lie further up.  Can't fault anyone who wishes to improve themselves but the revolving door reality leaves much to be desired for our healthcare system.

My shaken faith:

• When in my twenties, four doctors, five if you count an allergist, failed to diagnose my sporadic bouts of rapid heartbeat, profuse sweating, weak and shaky legs, tunnel vision, disorientation and asthma.  I believed I was about to experience an heart attack whenever a spontaneous episode would occur.  I was sedated with Ativan or Valium and given a asthmatic "puffer" for my breathing.  Now I was just sleepy or dopey when episodes occurred.  It wasn't until I read a newspaper article of others experiencing the same symptoms that I could put a name to my symptoms: Panic Attacks.  No doctor had used that term for my symptoms.  A family member gave me some Anafranil (Cloprolamine) and said "take this, it settles my stomach".  I had no stomach problems but at that point I was borderline suicidal and didn't care if I took someone else's prescription.  After only a day, it was as dramatic as the curtains being drawn open to let bright sunshine in on a dark and dusty room.  Symptoms were gone and I could discard the inhaler.  I remained on the Anafranil for several years; a chemical imbalance in my physiology I suspect.  My doctor at that time told me, "we know a lot more about that now."  Too late to have helped me.

• In mid-2000 I experienced a severe debilitating backache.  I had to hold onto walls as I inched from one place to another.  I left work and came home to crawl into bed.  I wanted to take a shower, but couldn't lift my leg up over the tub.  Oh how I wish I could have and prevented my infection.  I had yet to find another doctor, my most recent physician having left for more fertile ground.  I went to a walk-in clinic where I was prescribed a muscle relaxant, then went back to bed (no urine culture, which might have offered a better outcome).  How many days went by I cannot recall.  I woke up one morning and my legs would not move.  Taken by ambulance to the hospital, an MRI revealed I had a spinal cord abscess caused by the bacterium Staphylococcus aureus. Surgery followed and I came out of the ordeal as a paraplegic.  I can only speculate whether my outcome would have been different if I had my family doctor at that time.

• While in the hospital, recovering from my spinal infection, I lost hearing in one ear.  At least two doctors, one twice looked into my ear canal with the otolaryngoscope but couldn't seen anything amiss.  So that was that!  I couldn't hear but nothing was wrong.  Once discharged I saturated some cotton with hydrogen peroxide and stuffed it into my ear.  I removed so much "black junk" from my ear canal which doctors couldn't detect.  I could hear again.  My ear had picked up some sort of infection from some hospital fomite (inanimate vector) such as a pillow.

• The most recent episode which continued to shake my faith in the Canadian medical system is described in the three previous posts.  In April of 2022, I experienced severe spasms in my right leg which sprained to to such a degree that it would no longer support me in standing or transferring or more importantly, in stepping into our family vehicle as I had been doing for the previous fifteen years or so.

1. Doctor No. 1, who I found after a year's search after having moved back to my hometown.  He told me all I needed was rest - which was what I had been doing all winter up til this April episode.  I went home and rested.  I did recover to some degree but not to what I had pre-April, 2022.  The strength, stability and tautness did not return allowing me to get into our family vehicle.  My limited independence is now all but non-existent.  I have to rely on disability transport.
2. Doctor No. 2: Doctor No. 1 left after about a year and a half with no one taking over his practice.  He had left me with a years worth of repeat prescriptions which was about the time it took to find another doctor.  At the "meet-and-greet", I explained my April episode to the new physician.  He ordered an EMG [meaningless without a baseline to compare it to - a before and after to see what changed] and an MRI [something specific diagnosis in mind or just grasping?]  The EMG was scheduled for early the following year (2023) and just about that time I received and e-mail informing me that he was leaving his practice; he was handing his practice over to another doctor.  [The EMG result confirmed that I was a paraplegic and nothing more.  Waste of my time and the taxpayer's money.
   
3. Doctor No. 3: At the meet-and-greet, I was interviewed by, I assume, was a clinical assistant - prior to meeting the doctor, or so I thought.  No, that was it.  I've not met my new family physician yet though I've been to his office twice.  I did hear from him though,  When the previously ordered MRI result came in he phoned me with the result.  I had previously heard from the Osteopath? or Neurologist? or their clinical assistant? who gave me a summary of the MRI results:  I needed immediate surgery for a bone spur which was causing my spasms and I could continue to take my Gabapentin [nerve pain] and Baclofen [anti-spasmodic].  Huh, did you not read my chart to see that I'm a paraplegic and am on those two prescriptions for life [or miraculous biblical intervention].  Were they misreading my original injury for a new problem?  I discussed this with Doctor No. 3 by phone and he patiently listened but I don't recall him challenging my assumption.

 

And so after hanging up I'm left wondering: Do I really have a bone spur causing additional problems.  Do I need surgery?  Was I misdiagnosed?  Will I ever meet my new family physician or will all diagnoses and results be offered by phone?

At the time Doctor No.2 ordered the EMG and MRI he also sent me to a plastic surgeon regarding my finger contractures and to an orthopedic surgeon for torn tendons in my shoulders.  The plastic surgeon injected one finger with cortisone and ordered additional x-rays and ultrasounds.  After a half a year or more, I have not heard back from their clinic. nor my new family physician regarding the results - prognosis or possible treatment.

As for the torn tendons in my shoulders, I was examined by the Orthopedic surgeon and his assistants and told there was nothing they could do for me.  I asked therefore if I should just learn to live with the pain?  The doctor then asked me my age.  I told him.  He just smiled at me.  The only way I could interpret his countenance was that I was close to death anyways, so why bother...

The summer of 2023 has for me been the summer of medical tests.  Yet no issue has been resolved and there is nothing more on the horizon.  I guess it's up to me to raise my fists and beat on their doors to do more to find out what ails me.

I won't even get into how the Canadian medical system hastened my dad's death.  I've relayed it elsewhere in this blog.

*   *   *

What Happened -Part 3

 A summation of the previous four posts:

Ever since my spinal cord injury some fifteen years ago, I was able to climb into our family van from my wheelchair for transportation to wherever I needed to go.  In fact I last did so in the last week of March of 2022 when I visited my out-of-town dentist.

Then, on April 6th & 7th of the following week, I experienced excruciatingly painful, explosive spasms which lasted all night till dawn with only a slight reprieve during the day before they resumed again the following night.

The spasms were so intense and devastating that I could no longer place my weight upon the leg for support during transferring.  I could lift my left leg upright and hold it taught; the right leg would sag and bounce when trying to do the same.

Here lies my frustration with the Canadian medical system:

I am now on my fourth family physician in five years.  I left my previous physician when I moved back to my home town.  Family physicians accepting new patients are rare in Ontario Canada - with some wait lists as long as five years.

Doctor No. 1 (2019-Summer 2022): Though some distance from home, I found a doctor accepting new patients.  I was with this doctor in April 2022 when my debilitating spasm event occurred.   He told my all I needed was rest but ordered an ultrasound to humour me.  I showed no abnormalities and the leg slowly did recover but not to pre-April capabilities.  I tried but could not raise my left leg while balanced on the wobbly right leg, high enough to step into the van.

Just when I was about to approach him again, I received a letter in the mail telling me he was closing his practice as there was no candidate willing to take it on.  I left my name with the clinic should events change and then the search was on again.

Doctor No. 2: (January 2022-May 2023) I received a call from the clinic that a new physician had arrived and was accepting patients.  I immediately signed up and shortly thereafter went to the meet-&-greet.  I explained my spasm event to the doctor during our initial meeting.  He ordered an EMG and an MRI [along with other tests unrelated to my spasms - trigger fingers, shoulder pain from torn tendon, etc.]  Whether do to the demand or Covid backlog, the tests were scheduled into the following year.  In May of 2023, some four months after establishing his practice, he decided to leave [for personal reasons].  There was another doctor at the same building but not with the same clinic who was willing to accept Doctor No. 2's patients.

Doctor No. 3 (June 2023-?): So I go to my third meet-&-greet for my fourth doctor in almost five years.  But I don't meet the doctor; I meet who I presume was a medical clinician for the doctor.  They listen to my gripes and take my notes [which will be scanned into their black hole, never to see the light of day again.  They suggest I meet with another doctor in the same office who manages pain.  When the time came to meet this pain doctor No.4, I meet with the same clinician.  So I have yet to meet my new doctor(s).

Results ordered by Doctor No. 3 began to come into his office. Negative results are not called but I finally did hear the voice of Doctor No. 3 when he called regarding the MRI. The hospital's neurology or orthopedic doctor's clinician had already contacted me regarding the MRI results, telling me that a bone "spur" was causing my spasms and that I needed immediate surgery. They continued by telling me that I should keep taking the bacolfen for spasms and gabapentin for nerve pain. That left me wondering if I really had a "spur" or whether they were misreading my original injury as something new. When Doctor No. 3 called, I explained my reasoning to him which he took in and didn't challenge.

The more I think about it, the more confused I become.  Was there something new and abnormal in that MRI?

I guess it's up to me to make another appointment and pound on the good doctor's door [or his clinician's] for I still am housebound and unable to get into your family vehicle.  Something suddenly happened to me in April of 2022 which robbed me of my ability to get into our family vehicle; the problem remains.  Though not solved, it appears Doctor No. 3 had dismissed my medical complaint and it's up to me to continue to raise a stink.  (Oh, you were serious about that issue?)

I remain housebound, having been off my property some thirteen times in the last seventeen months (since April 2022 to present) and all for medical or related appointments.  All trips were by public disability transit.

And so it goes....

Disability Transportation

 As mentioned in the previous post, since my massive spasm episode in April of 2022, I suddenly lost the ability to step into our family van for trips away from home.

As such, I have been off my property only 13 times in the last 17 months, as of September 1, 2023, and all trips were by the local disability transport, and all were for medical, or related (pharmacy flu/Covid) appointments.

I have not left my home for entertainment, to shop, meet friends or to enjoy a meal at a restaurant.  Nada! 

Local disability vehicle

There lies another problem.  Perhaps it's the staffing shortage - the employment lethargy which appears to have resulted from Covid.  People no longer wish to return to work after the pandemic viral slowdown or downsizing.  Perhaps it's the manner of the job.  Their paycheck perhaps not compensating sufficiently for their stressful work.

Though not highly skilled work, it does demand a compassionate, tolerant, flexible and even-tempered worker, whether a driver or dispatcher.  Clients may miss scheduled rides with routes and timetables constantly juggled and readjusted.  Clients can be in pain, can be surly, exhibit anger and frustration; they may require special attention, etc., etc.  How do the hire and retain competent staff?

The earliest the local company allows me to book a ride is seven days in advance.  I had a MRI scheduled in a year's time and was unconcerned about getting a ride to the hospital.  Perhaps I would have recovered sufficiently to be able to again step into our family vehicle.  So the week finally approached and in the early morning of the seventh day before my MRI, I attempted to book a ride to the hospital.  No luck.  All booked up. Many clients have booked "permanent" rides such as those who have perpetually ongoing trips to dialysis clinics for weekly treatments.  Others have full-time jobs and have booked up daily trips into work and home again.  The slots are quickly filled up.

One bus driver told me that city hall has cut funding for disability transport even though the "boomers" are getting older and living longer with age related issues.  Perhaps the city councilors have no relatives needing assistance - or have no compassion.  Can funding really not be found?

Well, I did get a ride to my MRI by constantly selecting an earlier time period for ride to the hospital.  I found a slot two-hours before my appointment.  I would read a book while I wait.

Another time I was placed on a "wait list" to see if someone cancelled their trip in a time-slot closer to what I needed.  No one did.  One is faced with having to cancel long-standing appointments or to hire a private taxi at a substantially higher cost, to get one to where they have to be.  This adds significantly to one's stress.

At present, I have no alternative.  I'm grateful the service exists but it's inadequate.  I choose not to use it for frivolous trips - to shop or for entertainment, hopefully leaving the service for those who truly need it for medical concerns.

Frustration: What Happened to Me?

 Part Two:  What Happened?  Some Improvement.

In the previous post I wrote about the massive spasms I endured on the nights of April 6th & 7th, 2022.  So devastating that the night-long spasms attempted to tear my right leg from its hip joint.  My left the leg was so sprained from the repeated contractions that it would collapse beneath me if I placed any weight upon it--particularly if I tried to swivel upon it, suggesting the piriformis muscle may have been involved.

Though I could step into our family vehicle the week before, I could no longer do so a week later--or now months later.  Winter lethargy could not account for it as I had been able to step into our vehicle for the last 15 years or so.  Old age too does not descend from the heavens to land upon one in a weeks time.

My family doctor at that time told me it was nothing serious and that I should just rest, though I had rested all winter.  To humour me, he sent me for an ultrasound which, as I suspected, showed no abnormality.  

While strength in that leg did slowly return over the next couple of months, my flexibility and in particular my stability did not return to the pre-April 2022 event level.  That inability became compounded by self-doubt to such a degree that I fear making more attempts to get into our vehicle, proving that I cannot.

Just when I was about to once more contact my doctor, I received a letter in the mail stating that he was leaving his practice and there was no candidate available willing to take over his practice.  He was kind enough to provide me with a year full of prescription renewals prior to leaving.  I had this doctor for less than a year and a half.  I left a request with the family group practice that if a new doctor joined their clinic and accepted new patients, to please contact me.

It was almost a year later that I received a call from the clinic that they had a new doctor,  I went to the "meet-and-greet" and repeated my "April" story.  The doctor booked me for several tests, some related to my "April" episode.  This was at the tail end of Covid and with backlogs or usual long waits, the tests would be the following year.

I had been scheduled for an EMG test (Electromyography) to detect nerve, muscle and related signal transmission problems.  I wondered what this test was supposed to show for, as far as I know, there was no baseline taken after my initial injury which resulted in paralysis.  One would have to compare the "after" to the "before" to see what had changed which may account for my recent problems.  The Neurologist looked at the results and in essence told me that I was a paraplegic.  Oh, so that's why my legs haven't worked for the last fifteen years or so.  Thanks, that explains it!

 I was also booked for an MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging).  I can only speculate as to why he ordered this expensive test.  Did he have something in mind or was it just a shot in the dark.  My layman's reasoning had me thinking that a problem at this level would remain or worsen but not slowly improve (though not to my original ability).

The results from tests ordered by this doctor had yet to come in when I received an e-mail this time informing me that my doctor of about five months was leaving his practice.  I had met him only once at the "meet-and-greet" session when he placed these orders (though I did meet him before his departure to go over the EMG results.  He concurred with my observation, that there was no baseline to which the new results could be compared.  The test told him nothing,

However, this time around, another doctor was prepared to pick up his practice.  I received an invitation for my third meet-and-greet session for my third of four doctors in less than five years.  In fact, I didn't meet the doctor but was interview by his clinical assistant.  So much for cultivating a rapport with your family physician.  Find any doctor accepting new patients and hope they remain long enough to see them twice.

Well, finally I received a phone call from what I gathered was another clinical assistant with the MRI results.  I was told I had a bone-spur which was causing all my spasms and that I should be booked for immediate surgery.  I was told to keep taking my baclofen (spasms) and gabapentin (nerve pain).  Keep taking them??  Did they not read my intake notes stating I was a paraplegic and would be on these two medications for life (unless something better was developed).  A bone spur?  Bull-sh*t!

My new family physician, (4th in 5 yrs) also phoned me with the results.  I had yet to meet him but he spoke at a moderate pace and most of all, he listened.  I told him my doubts regarding the MRI interpretation.  Was the MRI doctor (neurologist?) misreading the healing of my original spinal injury for some new problem or did I actually have a bone spur?  My new family doctor did not act on the MRI results forwarded to him leaving me to believe that I was correct,  The MRI was misread.  No bone spur; no operation.  At least that's what I currently understand.

That's how things now stand.  I've not recovered to pre-April 2022 levels of strength, stability and confidence.  My family doctor had not ordered any follow-up tests or procedures to get to the bottom of what really happened that April and what, if anything can be done to improve my ability.  He's made a stab at it and with negative results; I suspect he's willing to drop it unless I demand more.  I suppose it's up to the patient these days to keep returning and pounding away at the clinic door, demanding new tests in order to answer "what the hell happened to me."  ["Oh, you still want me to diagnose your problem?"]

The bottom line is this:  For the last fifteen years, previous to April 2022, I was able to roll up to and step into our family vehicle.  My wife would drive me to wherever I (or we) wanted to go.  After April 2022, I could no longer step into our vehicle.  As such I am dependent on local disability transport which comes with its own set of problems.  The result is that I have been out of my house (off the property) only twelve (12) times in the last 16 months (over a year and a half) and all the trips have been for medical appointments.

In my home I have access to four rooms: my bed room, living room, kitchen and bathroom.  I try to minimize the time I spend in the last two.

Quality of life has taken another tremendous hit.  More on this to follow.

 

Setback: Okay, what happened?

Part 1: Okay, what the heck happened to me?

Covid was waning and life was beginning to return to normal.  I had been vaccinated--twice, and never did catch the virus.

I had broken a tooth which necessitated a trip to my out-of-town dentist on March 31, 2022.  So I transfer to my manual wheelchair and roll up to our van.  I open the door, grab the hand-hold on the frame, haul my leg in first followed by my bottom.  I close the door; wife folds up the chair and places it in back, and we're off.

My dentist of some 30 years is accommodating.  I roll up to her bench and step over to it so that the repairs can commence.  It's the reverse going home.  Simple, no?

Less than a week later on the night of April 6th, 2022, I suddenly get such severe spasms that I think the devil is trying to dis-articulate my femur from my hip socket.  I scream not only from each unexpected explosive action that tries to take my right leg further than what is anatomically possible, but also the resulting pain.

Again, and again, and again - every 15 to 20 seconds or so the excruciating contraction repeats.  A contraction so strong that I cannot push my right knee down with both hands and all my might to straighten my leg until the spasm releases.

My wife hears my cries from another room. - I swear at God, the devil or to any other entity who might listen--that I can blame--that I can plead for sympathy, for relief.  Nothing...

This goes on until dawn.  I'm exhausted.  I get up and have coffee for what else can I do?  Dawn seems to have brought some relief.

April 7, 2022:  The nuclear spasms return in earnest the following night.  Explode, scream, release, swear, then repeat til dawn.

You've heard of suicide by cop, have you not?  I was trying suicide by God. I swore and insulted God in the most vile manner--even inventing new words for I had used up my most filthy vocabulary -words which would make a long-shore-man blush, and still found them insufficient to get my anger, my desperation, my helplessness, my hopelessness across.  Perhaps in his anger he would take me, but to where?  I was already in hell.  How much worse could it get?  Would four flaming horsemen of the acropolis apocalypse ride their steeds up my ass or would I just have to clean Hitler's latrine for eternity.  End it, please!!!

April 8, 2022: There was no repeat of the previous two nights.  Oh, I still get spasms nightly but they are gentler--like trying to kick the ceiling light fixture from where it had been installed.  Those destroy me as well, but they take longer - like trying to blow your brains out using a hair-dryer.

The result was that my right leg was absolutely sprained.  I could no longer raise it of the ground.  While my left leg raised straight in front of me could stay rigid and taut, the right leg was sore, sprained and would bounce when I attempted to raise it.

I could not put weight on that leg to transfer to my bed, or to the toilet or to any other surface.  It would collapse beneath me.  I had to slide across, drag myself over or devise some other means to change surfaces.

My doctor offered sympathy but no possible explanation for my episode.  He told me to go home and rest.  Go home and rest!! Well doctor, that's what I had been doing all winter long.  Winter lethargy doesn't materialize in one week--between March 31 and April 6.  Old age too does not drop out of the sky overnight.  My doctor sent me for an ultrasound to humour me.  It showed no abnormalities as I suspected.  He was off the hook.

Well, the leg did improve to some degree but I could no longer raise it high enough to step into our van.  I would lift my leg up and immediately fall back into my wheelchair.  Had more damage been done than I (and the good doctor) realized?  Had I just lost my confidence?  What?

More to follow in the next post.