I've had a trying three weeks. After a laboring Labor Day, I was looking to that post-holiday Tuesday for some normalcy. But that never came. Any chance of respite was relinquished when we had to unexpectedly head back from Massachusetts Sunday night on the holiday weekend reserved for relaxing, subjecting Michael Alexander to a car and train ride extending hours past his bedtime. I abide by the old adage to never wake a sleeping baby (even if I'm miffed I can't find its origin and hate spewing jargon of unknown intent), but I've come to believe it's much worse to force a toddler to stay awake well past schedule. Our only consolation was three early 20-somethings, a lovely woman and two charming men, who made every effort to entertain our son and swap his tears for a delirious fit of exhausted laughter and manic energy. During the car ride to the train station, our perpetually cheerful son cried to convey an agony that ripped my heart to shreds and eroded any semblance of sanity I was able to muster. He's wept passionately only when physical pain from chronic ear infections strikes, so to hear blood-curdling cries brought on by a sudden (yet completely avoidable) schedule change stung deep and hard. That disruption lingered through the week, as his napping was off, making for more tumultuous times. I did my best to avoid the Facebook photos of those who spent Labor Day at the beach, soaking in summer's last hurrah. As I battled the envy of those who kicked off the short work week with sand still in their hair, I hoped I could at least shake off the stress of the last couple of weeks. Instead I faced the most arduous stay-at-home work week, with banal task after banal task for a freelance assignment that's still ongoing, all with Michael Alexander robbed of his naps and struggling to re-acclimate after that torturous journey home. I'd had dreams the week before of someone offering to watch, or at least stay in the apartment for an hour or so while he napped, giving me some time to get ahead on my work. That was a silly expectation! I know better now. What's worse is that week before Labor Day marked a major setback in my greatest personal (non-mommy) accomplishment of recent history. I'd finally started work on a novel, and had been sneaking minutes here and there to gain impressive momentum. Then that first of three miserable weeks reared its ugly head, and all creativity was lost. I haven't managed a word since.
As I trudged through last week, I made every effort to test my physical fitness and exert as much energy as possible in a last-ditch effort to lighten my dampened spirit. It was going great, until last Thursday when I stupidly took a spin class that I know I should avoid like a plague. It involves balancing in second and third position without touching the handlebars. Sure it builds core strength and burns calories, but for someone like me with a severely damaged spine, it's a prescription for pain. Like I said, I know better. I'm to blame. And I've been paying for my bad judgement. My chronic pain -- due to a degenerated spine and slipped discs, caused by scoliosis -- is dull and constant with episodes of excruciating sharp or stabbing pains. But those inexorable episodes rarely last more than a day or two. This was the longest bout of what's regarded by doctors as debilitating pain I've ever endured. Since I'm incapable of slowing down -- both because of my personality which rejects the notion of slothenly couch-sitting or bed-rest, and because I have to care for a very active 17-month-old all day without any childcare -- I have to rely on better living through chemistry.
On Monday, I went to see a spine surgeon, who advised that if I take another hands-free spin class I'll be on his schedule sooner than later. I'm already banned from running (even though I've logged some miles since giving birth), as I was diagnosed with scoliosis and the degenerated spine while marathon training in 2006. I had to see nearly a half dozen doctors back then before finding one who'd agree to treat me if I went through with the marathon. I finished, and would have had it no other way. I've since struggled with cutting out the running as it's by far the most effective cardio, and my metabolically-challenged body needs a lot of intense exercise. The first of three doctors I visited this week gave me a cocktail of three meds, a narcotic painkiller, a hardcore muscle relaxer and an equally potent anti-inflammatory, saying I'd only feel any relief if I stacked all three. True it masked some of the pain, but it took my brain, balance, motor skills, reflexes and ability stay awake past 9 p.m. as prisoners. I was barely functioning during the day, praying I wouldn't pass out while keeping up with Michael Alexander. Clearly that pharma-concoction was a short-term fix, and he referred me to a pain specialist who could better help me cope longer-term.
I should have been suspicious when the pain specialist I was referred to was able to see me the very next day, without my even droning on about the severity of my situation. I'll spare you the brunt of the saga of this horrific experience, as some of you may have read my reviews. (It's the first time I've written a negative review online, and I was very generous to not mention he was essentially trying to defraud me.) Long story short, I gave the woman who made the appointment my insurance and personal information, and she'd promised to call back that day if there was any potential problem with the insurance. She never called. Mike confirmed the doctor is in our network. When I arrived for my appointment, there was nobody at the front desk and I waited some 15 minutes before the doctor, with his name embroidered on his top, came to the desk. I had to alert him I was a patient, and he handed me a pile of paperwork. Another 20 minutes later, he came to call in the patient scheduled a half hour after me. The other patient was kind enough to point out that I was ahead of him, so the doctor called me to the front desk to inform me I'd have to pay hundreds, maybe more, up front because of a "network deductible" and refused to bill me through my insurance. He said "that's the way we do it," and that he'd "reimburse you if you overpaid." He said I could pay him and then seek reimbursement through my carrier. Naturally, I walked out. My back pain worsened by the time I left the office as my stress mounted. This esteemed doctor illegally denied me treatment. Mike spoke with the insurance provider after my failed visit, and was told we should never pay up front for a network doctor. Mike then called the doctor and left a voicemail message. The doctor called back Mike, again insisting "that's how we do it." A woman from the office called back later to apologize for her "mistake," for not calling me back about the insurance and for giving the doctor "wrong information." Of course I've never received a direct apology.
I am so grateful Mike recognized how agonizing this experience was, and that now with a drug-addled brain and rapidly rising anxiety, I was in no condition to call doctor after doctor in search of an honest one who'd accept our insurance, abide by the law and make time to see me almost immediately. After calls to multiple in-network doctors, Mike reached a woman, who after putting him on hold for 20 minutes, understood the urgency and booked me first thing in the morning. I've finally found a doctor who carefully listened to my concerns, examined me and recognized how the emotional stress was exacerbating my physical pain. For the last 24 hours, I've been truly managing my pain, with medications that don't leave me nearly catatonic. Hopefully the cortisone injection will kick in, too. I'm slowly regaining my full capacity to react and respond to sudden movements. Another day or so and I should be back to some reasonably functioning state. I'll be damned if I let another week drain my creative conscious.
Disclaimer: While Natasha Gural-Maiello makes every effort to post accurate and reliable information, she does not guarantee or warrant that the information on this blog entry is coherent due to her recent wranglings with Western medicine.
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