The Quest for Relief on Back Pain Island
By Bobby Lumbago La Douche’
This here story is a tale of defeat and triumph and not necessarily in that order. It captures the essence of my quest to find relief from life restricting back pain that I fondly like to call Back Pain island. More than three years ago my award-winning lifestyle was put in jeopardy by intermittent sciatica, butt pain, leg pain and lower back pain. Sometimes much worse and sometimes much better. The purpose of this is not to solicit sorrow or too bad for me emotions. It is to show the medical mechanisms in place to foil your desire for relief on Lumbago Island. Here goes.
October 2017: I seek out help from a pain management physician. Was hurting really bad. The doc is really well known in the entire county and there are probably fewer people in the county that have never had services by her than have. She could stick a needle in a fly’s eyeball from 40 paces. As I walked back with the nurse to my consultation the first thing she does is weigh me. Anxiety up and adrenalin is dumping. I’m fat and it’s a source of anxiety and agitation. Second, she takes my blood pressure and it’s a bit high. Is your blood pressure always this high? I say “Let me see now, I just crawled in pain two blocks from where I was parked to get in here, then I had to fill out papers that I had already filled out online, and then as I was sitting down I was called in for my appointment and then you put my fat ass on the truck scale in the hallway where everyone can see you and then you take my blood pressure. Can I suggest that you fill out the prescription list etc. first, ask some of your questions and then take the blood pressure? Get the weight on the way out.” In a nutshell I cannot walk or do too much therefore my weight loss quest is at a standstill. The doctor comes in and we chat. After a very short while,she is aware of all the areas of distress and my pain level at every moment of every day. Before she schedules my epidural spine injection, she needs for me to have an MRI of my lumbar spine to access the damage done.
Off we go. The MRI is really no big deal unless you have fears of being trapped in a tunnel or being buried alive like I do. I request some sedation prior to the exam and they prescribe 5 milligrams of valium to be taken after I sign a consent for the exam and the sedation. The technologist hands me a pediatric gown and asks me to change. After I try to put one arm partially in the gown, I go on a search for a gown that may cover my ass. This happens all the time. I never shop in petites in general so I don’t understand why all these people believe that I fit in a gown that says small on it. I minute before they suck me into the tube of hell, I get my valium pill. It’s supposed to be injected but what do I know. I’m no scientist but I had real doubts about my relief from the valium pill while the test was happening within a 60-second time span. And by the way, 5-milligram valium may work on an 80-pound geezer at deaths door but not me. I was in a full sweat while that tube seemed to get smaller as the 45-minute exam took place. I was joyful when the table was brought into the light and I could leave.
Confirmation: Back is a mess. Three areas of spinal stenosis. I proceed with several spinal shots that have varying degrees of success. During one mind-bending bout of back pain where I had to use a cane, I decided to seek out an opinion about surgery. Luckily for me I orbit in a medical solar system. I was referred to Dr. I Need a New Sailboat. Gladys and I sit in consult with Dr. Sailboat. He reviews the MRI with me and then proceeds to tell me I need surgery. Nothing easy here. Day one of surgery is being opened in my belly by a general surgeon who will pull my guts and blood vessels out of the way as Dr. Sailboat constructs the deck of an aircraft carrier on my spine. Day two of surgery consists of being cut open from the back where the hull of the ship is to be fixed to the deck. Rehab time around 12 weeks with me being able to use a laptop at 8 weeks out. But we can’t just do that as the general surgeon, Dr. Accomplice, tells me I’ve got to lose 50 pounds before we go to the surgical shipyard. Again, this will certainly be no problem as losing lots of weight without being able to move around is a snap. Having been in medicine for quite some time the real success rate for these surgeries is almost zero. I didn’t jump in. I went through facet injections and sacroiliac injections and was able to function better during the last three years. It gets very tiring however not being able to stand for any length of time or walk a half block without stopping. Add the snail-like pace and you have a situation.
December 2020: Request more spinal shots from pain doc. Before we progress to that I need another MRI as my old study is out of date. You may be surprised but things got worse. Imagine that. In the time since I chatted with Dr. Sailboat, I got information about a different surgeon who was well regarded in my world. Let’s call him Dr. Common Sense. I made an appointment and off we go. When was the last time you went to the doctor and they knew why you were there? Well, Dr. C. Sense had reviewed all the imaging and historical facts before he entered the room. Dr. Sense walks into the room and introduces himself to myself and Gladys. He has a lab coat on with a dress shirt and tie. His shoes are shined. (I am old school. I like it when a physician is well dressed). We proceed with the physical exam and he brings out the plastic model of the lumbar spine and shows me the potential surgical area and how it would be done. There will be no shipbuilding taking place. No screws and no rods. He orders one more x-ray of my back to see what happens when I bend forward and backward. If the vertebrae move too far then the surgery would be hardware and stuff, and if they remain stable than the surgery would be as expected. It turns out there was no movement and we are ready to schedule. We will never know why Dr. Sailboat didn’t order this x-ray exam but then sailboats don’t order themselves.
The Pre-op physical: Since there was no hardware and screws to be involved Gladys and I determined that the laminectomy would be a go. I called Dr. Sense to schedule my surgery even during the Covid cow pie minefield.
Things to do:1) Chest x-ray, 2) lab work,3) pre-op physical, 4) EKG,and Covid test three days before surgery. Keep in mind that Dr. Sense and I had been face to face in his office and he was not visually impaired. Schedule the surgery for January 4 th a week before on December 28 th . Go to get pre-op physical where again I am weighed for the 50 th time in a week. Guess what, my blood pressure was up. The Nurse Practitioner, let’s call her Samantha, goes through a thorough physical that was much more robust than the Medicare physical I received from my actual doctor just a week before. Samantha measures my neck and leaves the room. Another person comes in and takes blood pressure once again. Yes, it was lower and fell within the operative parameters. Another person comes in and measures my neck again as if Samantha’s work needed to be rechecked. Nurse Samantha comes in and says I’ve got bad news. You can’t have surgery. You flunked 4 out of 5 of the judgement criteria. Your neck is too big, you weigh too much, body mass index is shit, and you are over 55. Except for neck size all the other information was tattooed all over my medical record for quite some time. “So, Miss Samantha, if I become incontinent, they would immediately do my surgery but now I can’t get it. You know that you had all the information to flunk me without me even coming here. I am a little bitter about this whole circus.” Samantha held it all together as a real pro would. In order to proceed with the surgery, I would have to have a test for sleep apnea. I had already signed several information papers that stated I did not have sleep apnea because after sleeping with the same wife for 44 years I would have been notified by her, rest assured.
Samantha tried to get me in for a sleep apnea test that week but they were full. I canceled the surgery and the rest of the tests. I sent a note to the surgeon asking him after actually seeing me why he wouldn’t tell me in all likely hood that I would need a sleep study.
I went home and explained what happened to Gladys and was pissed because I was looking forward to the pain relief.
The Sleep Test: A call comes from the unknown to let me know that there is a spot for me at the Sleep Test Center in two days. I’m to get there at 9 pm and spend the night being monitored for sleep apnea which I don’t have. Even though I’m a prize-winning author to describe this test in all its glory would be quite taxing. I filled out the same paperwork again. I was led into a rather sterile, clinical looking room. It had the large ceiling tiles and a huge vent in the middle. Across the entire bed there were 60 wires waiting to be placed all over me. The technician was very pleasant and obviously knew her craft. It took her 30 minutes to place the electrodes on my head, face, chest and legs. There were two elastic type straps put around my chest and abdomen. A final electrical connection the pulse oximeter was placed on my finger which was very tight. Along with this there was video and sound monitoring the entire night so I had to clench my ass down so there would be no embarrassing sounds from my nervous colon. I had stopped drinking water a few hours before so I wouldn’t have to be disconnected several times to pee due to my gargantuan sized prostate. Time for bed. This will be a snap. When I finally got my “sleeping” position I felt like a dolphin stuck in a fishing net. My mind was wandering when I was trying to force myself to sleep. The vent providing air was making the sound of airplanes taking off and landing. There was enough air flow to provide comfort for an entire high school. I diverted my attention from the vent to the expressway that was 400 feet from my room. You wouldn’t believe the amount of semi’s that rumble by through the wee morning hours on a major highway. I have no idea how long it took me to fall asleep and if I stayed asleep. I gave up the ghost at about 5 am when I had to go to the bathroom. All I had to do was say “hello” in the room and the tech was right there. She uncoupled some fittings and I went to the bathroom. When I came out, I asked if she had enough data. Yes, she did. Fabulous. I went home.
I did not have sleep apnea. I had been a victim of body habitus discrimination.
Can’t wait to tell of my victimization to Biden and the ACLU.
I completed all the other tests and scheduled the surgery. Surgery January 11 th 2021: I get there at 6 am with Gladys as prescribed. I take a few questions from the receptionist. I hand her my Power of Attorney documents and tell her it’s probably over kill for a penile augmentation. She laughed so I knew she was cool. The nurse comes out from area 51 and takes us back to my staging room. Jolie the nurse is a winner. Hands me a gown of the proper size. Starts my IV with one poke. I am asked to pee. I ask her to control herself as she shaves my back. I hated to tell you that but that’s where the hair is now at age 66. The anesthesiologist comes in and introduces himself. Within 2 minutes I get 2 Tylenol and a morphine pill. I like the way this guy thinks. At 7:30 am I’m wheeled into the OR suite. Lights out. Do what you want.
I wake up in my prep room and Gladys is waiting for me. The surgeon comes in and tells me all is well and that he thought he was doing surgery on a triceratops. I like this guy. I had to pee one more time for proof that I could on my own. I was in my own home at 11:30 am. We live 30 minutes away. Holy man. Impressive I must say.
Rehab under way: As of January 26, 2021, I am able to walk 2 miles without the terrible pain. The actual pain from the molestation of bone, muscle and skin is retreating. I think its going to be good. Care Survey: About a week ago a received a satisfaction survey related to my experience from the surgery. I gave all the highest marks. In the narrative section I wrote that the entire process was done very professionally by very, very nice people. I did however wonder why my underwear was full of KY jelly in the back.
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm……………………….
Bobby Getting Better La Douche’