Monday, June 22, 2009

My Deductible Has Not Only Been Met, It's Been Wined and Fucking Dined

Wahhhh. Seriously. My back is totally fucked. I went to the orthopedic specialist last week because I've been in some serious back pain and was convinced that either one of my ribs had detached and was carving my initials into my left lung, or I had a massive tumor growing right up against my spine, making it difficult to breath and/or move in any way, and if this was the case, I was going to name it Squid and keep it in a jar if I survived the surgery.

Both X-rays revealed absolutely nothing, which should surprise me exactly zero because nothing is ever wrong with me, according to modern medicine, I feel like there's a problem with my pregnancy and they tell me it's just too early to see the fetus, it's too tiny, everything is fine, and I have acne literally erupting from my back and chest and neck like some kind of pissed of Hawaiian lava-wielding deity and they tell me it's just stress and it will go away on it's own and then when it doesn't go away on it's own they tell me there's nothing they can do to make it better because it's "truncal" and therefore unresponsive to topical treatments, and I should just wait some more. And then I up and stop pooping. For, like, two months. And they tell me that it happens sometimes and they tell me horror stories of city bus drivers who get massive anal leakage and can no longer run their routes and other stories of women who are in the ER every three days for emergency enemas because they haven't pooped in, well, about the same amount of time as me, and that maybe I should stop taking calcium supplement and schedule a colonoscopy that probably won't tell us anything useful about why I'm not pooping, but holy fuck do they think it's fun to shove cameras up ass holes.

And now my back hurts so badly that I can't sleep, and I can't really breathe when I'm laying down, but during the day it comes and goes (thank god) because like right now it doesn't hurt AT ALL (kind of like when I was at my appointment with the orthopedic specialist and he asked me to bend and crouch and twist and show him where I felt the pain, but because it wasn't acting up, I could do all of those things just fine except show him exactly where the pain was because I couldn't remember EXACTLY where it was), so I'm going to physical therapy on Wednesday because he thinks maybe it's a muscle and/or ligament issue and feels we need to "stop the cycle" of pain before it gets worse.

And I'm pretty sure I'm going to go to physical therapy on Wednesday and they'll ask me to do back flips and even though I've never done a back flip before in my life, I'll somehow be able to crank them out like freaking Paul Hamm, and they'll say that I "seem to be fine" and to "let them know if I'm still having trouble in 30 days" and then the instant I walk out of the clinic, my entire body will seize up and my rib will explode from my chest and impale my left eyeball and they'll find me writhing around on the sidewalk and the doctor will come down and rub his chin and furrow his brow and say, "Hmm. Maybe we should make a follow up appointment."