Don't just trust the doctors.
I mentioned my husband's battle to have his Parkinson's Disease diagnosed in a previous post. This post is to sound off about my own experience with what I consider to be seriously inadequate health care.
On Monday—it doesn't matter which Monday—I started to experience pain in my lower back. Not the usual sciatic pain at the very bottom of the spine. This was different, not like anything I had ever felt before. It was just above the waist, and to one side of the spine. I assumed I had pulled a muscle, took a couple of ibuprofen and waited for it to go away. It didn't. In fact, it got progressively worse. By Wednesday I was getting a shooting pain, like an electric shock, when I moved a certain way, stretching my arms, twisting or even just standing up from a chair. On Friday, I set an appointment with for the following Monday afternoon, with the physicians assistant; my doctor wasn't available at such short notice. By Sunday, I was barely able to move without the pain knocking the air from my body. It wasn't just excruciating; it was frightening.
At first I suspected a kidney stone, then I thought maybe a herniated disc. Of course, Dr. Google does tend to feed us all sorts of frightening information. But in my eightieth year, and having lost both my parents to cancer in their seventies, I can excuse myself for being slightly hypocontriacial. My husband talked me into going to the ER. I didn't take much persuasion. So, I drove the 30 minutes to the nearest hospital in Cedar Park. Checking in at two in the afternoon and waited.
A doctor examined me and ordered a back X-ray. We waited some more. After the X-ray, we waited again. The ER was kept busy but wasn't too crowded. Eventually the doctor came and told me no broken bones. That thought hadn't occurred to me! She said it was arthritis and probably had been aggravated by something. We waited again. A nurse came and took us into one of their more private areas, applied a lidocaine patch and gave me one pain pill which she said was oxycodone and acetaminophen. She told me a prescription for lidocaine patches and a topical gel for the pain would be sent to my pharmacy. Then we waited some more. Finally, I was given a bunch of papers to sign—as far as I know, there was no mention of not blogging about my experience. I asked if I would get a prescription for painkillers and was told no. That was just as well, because CVS refuses to dispense codeine so I suspect they would refuse oxycodone too. Incidentally, that pill worked like a charm and I drove home pain free, stopping on the way to pick up the patches and gel.
I slept badly on Sunday night; every time I moved, the pain woke me. On Monday morning, a full week since the problem started, I showered and opened up the packaging to apply the gel. Luckily, before doing so, I read the instructions. I posted a blog a number of years ago, on how important it is to read the fine print. Fortunately, I didn't forget that lesson.
Not only did it specify to NOT use on the back, it also stated it should be used on only three areas at a time and there was a risk of heart attack if misused. Clearly pretty serious stuff. Unless of course, the intention was to cause a distraction from the pain in my back—that would work. Needless to say, I didn't apply the gel.
I got onto Amazon and ordered a back brace. That was at 6:30 in the morning. It arrived three hours later and supplied instant relief, helped by a couple of ibuprofen.I was still in pain, but it was very much better.
That afternoon I saw my doctor at 3:00. She agreed that I was correct to not apply the gel to my back, under any circumstances. She asked me if the ER had done any lab work, or given me a prescription for muscle relaxers or pain killers. The answer was no on all counts. She didn't even try to hide her amazement. Because of the location of the pain, she too entertained the suspicion that it could be a kidney stone. She gave me a referral to get a Renal CT scan, also physical therapy, a prescription for a muscle relaxer and a painkiller stronger than ibuprofen, plus she asked me to go by the lab on my way out and have a urine test.
The medication helped immediately. On Tuesday, the results of the urine test showed no issues. Early on Wednesday morning I had the CT scan.The results of that came in on Thursday afternoon. No kidney stones, no suspicious mass. Yes, some signs of diverticulitis, not infected. Conclusion, musculoskeletal. Recommendation: Physical Therapy. Unfortunately, my faith in PT is less than my faith in ER doctors, having had less than ideal experiences with various different PT clinics, on more than one occasion.
Silver linings—yes, I still look for and find these. Two weeks later, the pain is almost gone and I didn't put that gel on my back. I shudder to think what could have happened if I had.
I guess the moral of the story is read the instructions? I really don't know. But I'm learning to trust the medical profession less and less. I remember a time when doctors actually cared about their patients. With the exception of the physicians assistant, who did help, and did care. Now it's just a conveyor belt. And yes, I do understand that they are understaffed and overworked, and constantly being sued. I'm sure that takes it's toll. Hell, recently my husband asked to be referred to another neurologist, he was told there was a six to twelve month wait for an appointment with the only other available one in the area.
