Saturday, March 16, 2013

Meeting Eyes

Tall, dark eyebrows, body made to work.  Then he was gone.

My doctor had swooped by the open door first.  I knew the patient would follow, so I waited, actively waited to see who it was.  Tall, dark eyebrows.  A possible "You too?"

I knew his name was Adrian; I had heard the doctor calling it.  Now out in the waiting room, I heard Adrian say, "Ceramic, granite, anything you want."  A thank-you, a thank-you.

The assistant warned me the numbing shots would feel like bee stings.  She and the doctor walked back and forth in their lead aprons.  The machine whirled about me, a cross-section of my pelvis up on the screen, my chin resting in my hands.

They rolled me out; they stung me; they shoved a needle through my butt cheek toward my ischial spine.  The anesthetic would kick in immediately and last several hours.  The steroid would take a couple weeks to kick in (or not) and prove (or disprove) the nerve-entrapment hypothesis.

"How do you feel?"

I walked a few steps between the curtain and the bed.  "Strange balance," I said.

"Do you feel any pain?"

I sat down.  "In the urethra?  But it might be fading."

"That makes sense," the doctor said.  "The urethra is the most innervated area."

Now it is a week and a half later.  A couple days ago, I thought I was feeling less pain.  Then my period started and it was all back to normal.  The reduced pain, I think now, was a coincidence.  It happens sometimes.  So I'm still waiting for signs that the steroids will work.

That guy I saw walking by the door, Adrian -- he was the first person with pelvic pain I've ever met.  Not a word between us, and only a split-second's look, but I do think it was a look of "You too?"  Me too, and maybe the nerve blocks will also work for me and I'll be so thrilled that I'll offer the doctor a free counter top or bathroom floor or, I guess in my case, a really, really lovely blog post.

= = =


  1. A lovely, lovely blog post sounds great. :) So sorry that you are living with this, but I love this post about it, if that's okay.

  2. 2 Weeks to the hour for me.

    Hang in there.


  3. I hope the steroids work for you, Esther. You deserve to live a pain-free life. *hugs*

  4. Ouch ouch ouch. :( I'm hoping you find relief soon.

    1. Thanks. I'm trusting that at some point, these guys are going to find something that helps. They are extra-special specialists :)

  5. I am so sorry to hear about the medical problems, Esther. I hope you get some relief soon.
    I loved how you pointed out that moment of recognition, of quiet camaraderie that passes between people some times. I had a moment like that the other day when I passed another Mother on the escalator for the 4th time in a row. Her child appeared to be the same age my middle son and to also have autism. We exchanged a glance and a smile as we went around and around... I know that feeling.
    All the best,

    1. That sounds like a very sweet moment. I love the phrase "quiet camaraderie." Perfect. Thank you for your kind words.

  6. Fingers crossed - and YES to that moment of recognition. I always wonder if it's imagined or real when I have one of those fleeting glances in an office. Thank you for sharing this.

  7. I love the way that you shared your visit to this specialist. You could have given a very dry report, but you framed it so well.