About ten years ago my right hand went numb. I thought “that ain’t right” before I replied “Well, actually…”
Bad joke aside, I didn’t do anything for a long while, indubitably making things worse. When I finally realized it wasn’t going to get better on its own, I went to the doctor.
The Doctor
The appointment had plenty of challenges. But luckily it was before masking and I didn’t have to fight that fight. My PCP at the time was a dude with a very soft voice and for whom words were painful. Or at least that’s the impression I got. Why else would he be so stingy with them? But I digress.
I went in knowing that the problem started at my neck. I remember slipping while doing an elevated side plank. That put too much pressure on my neck and I feared I had a pinched nerve. After a little back and forth (with more back than forth, thanks to his parsimonious word allowance) he decided on physical therapy. I thought it odd that he didn’t want to run any imaging but he was the expert so I deferred to his opinion.
And away I went.
The Physical Therapist
This was eons before I started speaking up for my hearing needs, so there was no self-identifying by your fearful narrator. I bluffed. Badly. Being a decade ago, I don’t remember many individual interactions but I do remember not catching everything the PT dude said. I figured details didn’t matter, he’d be showing me the exercises, having me do them to make sure I had proper form, and send me on my way. But one interaction I do remember.
He took out metal thingie that had all sorts of pointy ends.
One end had a wheel studded with spikes. The other end looked like the business end of a javelin. By Yoda’s pointy ears! What was he going to do with that? What had I bluffingly agreed to? I had no choice but to ask that. (I left out the bit about Yoda’s ears.) Turns out it wasn’t that serious. It was to see which fingers were numb. In case you’re interested, it was my pinky and ring fingers.
Thus informed, he gave me a few exercises to do. Most of them had me facing away from him. The only one that didn’t was the chin thrust. He had me straighten my neck and thrust my chin straight back. It was suppose to straighten any wayward neck muscles and strengthen them along the way. The other two I remember are the wall pushup and the prone bench row.
I remember these two because the therapist was talking at the back of my head. He would demonstrate the exercise and then get me into position. He would say something whilst I was facing away from him and I’d get out of position to face him. He’d tell me the adjustment I needed and I’d get back in position. Then he’d say something else and I’d turn to face him to get him to repeat himself. Sometimes I missed hearing him say “that’s good” and when I got back into position, it wouldn’t be good. So he’d say something else and I’d get out of position. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Ad nauseam. What really gets me is that he was behind me. That’s where my bionic ears hide. I understand they may seem invisible hiding behind my ears when someone’s in front of me. But when someone’s behind me, they have to be hard to miss.
Apparently not.
Luckily, that vicious “huh-cycle” only happened at the first appointment. The form wasn’t hard to learn. Once I knew what the proper position felt like it was easy to get into. Insurance only covered a few sessions. I could do the exercises at home. Which I did. But they didn’t help. So after a few months, I went back to Doctor Word Miser. Who thought it might be time for an X-ray or an MRI. Gee. Y’think?
The MRI
The X-Ray took two shakes of lamb’s tail and was done the same day the doc ordered in. Same building too. But when no problems appeared, it was off to get an MRI. I learned something about myself that day. I didn’t think I was the least bit claustrophobic. But I am. Damn, that tube is tight.
This time I did self-identify. I had to. I’d heard horror stories of undisclosed piercings being ripped out. My bionic ears are more easily removed but I didn’t know if they had enough metal to cause what is essentially a giant magnet to wreck havoc on them. They didn’t and I was able to keep them in. They gave me a set of headphones to listen to the radio (I chose WZLX) while I was in the tube. They didn’t fit great but were tight enough to make my ears hurt by pressing them against my head. The technician could also speak to me through them. That made hearing him pretty easy. I didn’t catch everything he said, of course. But most of what he said was simply “Stop moving”.
I wasn’t in there long in reality but in my head it was an eternity.
The end result was a bulging disc. I don’t think PT could have helped. Which made those appointments all the more frustrating. I ended up taking steroids. Incidentally, that was when I was banned by MLB. (No, not really). I took them for a couple of weeks and it worked. I also learned I’m a moody wretch on drugs! You’d think those challenging interactions at PT would have made me start to self-identify. You’d be wrong. They didn’t. I never claimed to be smart!
They’re invisible,
Even when they’re visible.
Worst. Magic. Ever.
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