The Medical Detective

It’s been two weeks since my medical exam and I’ve yet to hear anything about it.  I know that I’m not the only patient there, but you’ve got to be kidding me.  The only thing that I’m confident about as of this writing is that I’m not in any immediate mortal danger (although, the night is still young), because if I had been, I would have received a telephone call, letter, or smoke signal by now.

That said, the headaches are back and in force.

This is the problem that I had many years ago: I’d go to seek out medical treatment for an issue and the assistance was lukewarm, at best.  There’d be more of a “Why are you wasting my time,” vibe in the air.  The side glances, the “uh-huh” answers, and the general disinterest convinced me that I wasn’t going to receive cracker-jack medical care.  Many people have to deal with that nonsense on a daily basis; what makes it bad, though, is that if you’re not going to help me deal with this “obviously painful” situation, then what is there to convince me that you’ll help with the other problem?

I’ve shared with you previously – I think – that one physician feels that my issue rests with the cranial nerves.  He came short of declaring that there was something wrong, but he believes that the source of the pain can be traced back to my cranial nerves, and that’s what needs to be addressed.  I don’t disagree with this; in fact, I’m sold.  When he determined that I was not suffering from a stroke, I was satisfied.  When another physician told me that I’ve got advanced arthritis in my neck and lower spine, I began to piece things together into a working theory – one that no one’s yet disproven.

To wit: I believe that the arthritis is interfering with those cranial nerves.  Granted, my lifestyle (of the rich and famous, no less) hasn’t helped matters – I’m still too dependent upon sugar, and I should be ashamed at how often I use sweets as a filler for when I can’t sit down to eat a normal meal.  I’m an unofficial diabetic, and that could play a role in things, too.

Frankly, I’m too young for the types of issues I’ve been having.

When you play medical detective, though, you tend to remember obscure things in hopes that they’ll factor into your theory – at least I do.  I tend to forget that I was bitten by a tick when I entered army basic training.  Bivouacking in the Missouri woods during the rainy season?  Of course, someone was going to get bit by one of those bloodsuckers.  But I didn’t say anything after I discovered that engorged little monster on my back – no, sireee.  My drill sergeant was the Devil himself; he warned us not to get bit or there’d be Hell to pay.  I was so petrified of the man (he genuinely looked insane most of the time), that I could have been covered in ticks from head to toe, and I still wouldn’t have said anything about it.  No, that was my secret – at least until I returned home and I confided my situation to Mama Furious.  The ex-nurse in her came out and she gave me the once-over, but I never visited a physician.

So I wonder now – it’s been many years since that horrific discovery; is it possible that there’s some latent reaction going on here?  Is it something that just sat dormant until now?  Truthfully, given the amount of time, it’s unlikely.  But us medical detectives think like that.

So until I hear something concrete, I’ll guess I’ll just continue to guess.


My neighbor loves to cut his lawn.  Unfortunately, he loves to do it whenever I’m watching television and his mower is pretty loud.  We’ve noticed that he’s really into taking out that long grass whenever there’s a mystery on television.  He literally shows up under the window during the last fifteen minutes of any mystery I’m watching.

Imagine investing two hours into a movie, putting up with a ton of stupid red herrings, watching car chase after car chase, and when the detective has finally corralled all of the suspects into one room for the denouement, only to have everything drowned out by someone’s overly active John Deere riding mower.

Now, I know it’s coincidence.  It’s not like he knows what I’m watching on television, right?  But I will confess that I started to doubt myself when I sat down to watch a Colombo movie and the mower ran during the first ten minutes.

Hmmm.


 

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