Medical Monday :: Progress

Let’s call her ‘Nursey’. Actually, let’s not. That’s a rubbish name, and also potentially rather patronising. Let’s call her Dr Lovely.

So, after hearing all about my stomach pain on Friday, and then prodding me for a while, both physically and verbally, Dr Lovely gave me a couple of pieces of paper. One of them I'm to take to one hospital and have blood taken from me, after first fasting for twelve hours; the other I have to take to another hospital and arrange for an ultrasound.

‘Is that OK?’ she said. ‘Are you content?’

I liked Dr Lovely. She was extortionately personable.

I’d also told her about my back problems and the fact that I’d been seeing a very expensive chiropractor. In response, Dr Lovely not only gave me a brief but detailed and useful overview of workstation ergonomics, but she also informed me that her surgery had a resident osteopath with whom I was welcome to make an appointment.

When we were all done and she was writing up my request forms, I mentioned the knot of lactic acid which Naomi had identified in the small of my back. I told her that when I’d first discovered it, aged 19 or so, I had assumed it was cancer and had gone along to the doctors to receive the last rites, only to be told that it merely a sebaceous cyst, and utterly benign. Charming even. Dr Lovely had a little look and told me immediately that it was too near the surface to be lactic acid. It was definitely a cyst of some kind. ‘Are you sure?’ I asked. ‘I mean, is there no room for doubt?’ She shook her head. ‘This doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence in my chiropractor,’ I said.

‘I can understand that,’ said Dr Lovely.

At reception on my way out, I was informed that there'd been a cancellation later that afternoon, so I returned a couple of hours later and shook the stout strong hand of the osteopath. Let’s call him Dr Payne.

Half an hour later, on leaving the surgery, I actually felt better. It didn’t last that long, but for a while I could feel a definite improvement. Plus, where Naomi couldn’t actually manage to make my lower spine go ‘pop’, Dr Payne managed it in seconds. He even stuck some needles in me for good measure. And he explained lots of things to me about the two sets of muscles in my back and how the smaller, postural ones which deal with the day to day movement of the body sometimes get a little lazy and fall into disuse. Plus when he massaged the larger muscles in my back, it really really hurt. At one stage, just to illustrate something he was saying, he had a go at one of my shoulders. I can’t actually remember what he was saying because the tremendous pain immediately blocked everything else out. I do remember telling him that what he was doing was agony, and he explained – whilst gleefully digging in a thumb – ‘That’s because this what we call a “trigger point”.’ The sadistic bastard.

Still. Rather a sadistic but effective, free bastard than an extortionate and weak-fingered fool. Sorry, Naomi, but I feel rather let down if I’m honest.

Indeed, the first thing I did on returning home was to cancel my next appointment with the chiropractor.

So. On the whole, Friday was very satisfactory. I still have a pain in the stomach and I still have a bad back, but at least I’m doing something about them. The one thing I didn’t make any progress on was my increasingly distressing and frankly rather unpleasant anus. The fact is, I was embarrassed. Dr Lovely was simply too lovely, and clearly too much of a lady to even have to hear about such an abomination. Let alone potentially look at it, or give it a poke. I think I might hang on for a male doctor. It feels kind of cowardly, like someone refusing to buy condoms from a female pharmacist, but there it is. On the other hand though, coward? Or gentleman?

Yeah, OK, I'm a coward.

Bye for now. And here's wishing you a Happy Monday. I hope your anus is in better shape than mine.