I know this will come as a shock to everyone:
Jan was right. I was wrong.
A couple of months ago, I had my panties in a twist for no reason, sure that being referred to a pain specialist was a sentence to life in pain with no "real" medication to counter it.
I imagined some unbathed hippie "doctor" with a diploma from a Caribbean island, waving incense in my face, adjusting my chakra to cleanse me of past life transgressions, and forcing me to chant Buddhist prayers in order to accept and live with my pain.
Nope. They guy is going after the pain with some serious pain medication, and we're going to test a spinal catheter to deliver pain medication right to the spine with an implanted pump.
It was a rough first two months as he made adjustments and explored the nature and severity of my pain and dosages of medication, but once he had that quantified, today he pulled out the big guns and is going for the kill. And not a tie-dye T-shirt in sight nor a Tiny Tim album providing background music.
For the first time since take-down in 2009, I have hope of living a semi-normal life.
If it wasn't for Jan, I might have blown off my appointment with the hippie "doctor" and would still be writhing in pain for hours every night.
Now tomorrow, I go in for exploratory surgery to find the cause of the fistulas and possibly put in plugs. Or possibly lowering the pouch past the cuff. Depends on what the doctor finds when he gets in there.
But there is progress happening. Things being done. Plans and a resolve by my doctors that the status quo is not acceptable and they are going to get to the bottom of this.
I feel good. I feel optimistic.
.
Original Post
