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.
= = =
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.
ReplyDelete2 Weeks to the hour for me.
ReplyDeleteHang in there.
jenji
Thank you :)
DeleteI hope the steroids work for you, Esther. You deserve to live a pain-free life. *hugs*
ReplyDeleteThank you Bee!
DeleteOuch ouch ouch. :( I'm hoping you find relief soon.
ReplyDeleteThanks. I'm trusting that at some point, these guys are going to find something that helps. They are extra-special specialists :)
DeleteI am so sorry to hear about the medical problems, Esther. I hope you get some relief soon.
ReplyDeleteI 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,
Dawn
That sounds like a very sweet moment. I love the phrase "quiet camaraderie." Perfect. Thank you for your kind words.
DeleteI hope the medicine helps.
ReplyDeleteThank you Jack.
DeleteFingers 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.
ReplyDeleteI 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.
ReplyDelete