Friday, August 5, 2016

Another trip to the doctor, another suicide mission survived.

For a very long time my elbow has been sore. It would fluctuate between hardly noticeable to blinding, burning torture. I had asked a couple of doctors about it over the years. It was always kind of an answer to the "do you have any thing else?" at my normal checkup. And I had received various diagnosis. None too bad, none worth pursuing. So, we just cruised through life, my elbow and me.

Several weeks ago I noticed my little finger was numb. And the pain in my elbow was more persistent. It was troubling. So I went to the doctor. He is a new guy, young, dedicated, an absolute demon on taking your medicine. And he hates beer, or at least he hates it when I enjoy a frosty beverage.

He looked at my arm, my elbow, and my finger and asked about "any trauma?" I told him there had been none. He said that was odd. The symptoms were not indicative of "nerve constriction" or something like that, he felt there was something else.

He scheduled an xray, and an "EMG" (whatever the hell that is). Which had me a little worried. OK, really I was starting to panic. Seeing a neurologist is right up there with seeing the mortician. I was sick. What next, an operation, and a closed casket. I started telling my co-workers how to divide my office supplies.

Then, he sent me an email saying the xray showed the marks of an old fracture, and some inflammation. There was no need for an EMG, I was saved, it was a reprieve from the governor. He is going to send me some exercises, and I will be good as new, or better than I am. There is hope, after all.

But, that means at some point I broke my elbow and didn't know it. But there are a lot of days of my youth that are kind of lost in a fog. Oh well, no neurologist. I can live with that, maybe forever.