Trading one pain for another

I needed to obtain my M.R.I. images. I was notified it would cost me $125.00 to remove them from the hospital. Because my appointment had been moved up, I would need to have them with me as it would be faster than the system. Getting them would also include a painful call to Greg at his office to drive me. He was bogged down in meetings and could leave, but it would have set him back. I tearfully understood. I drove myself. I was completely manic. I was crying one minute, calm the next.

I reached the hospital and stooped waiting for the elevator. I was stared at a great deal. I had bloodshot eyes from crying and my heart was racing. I got on the elevator exhausted. I exited on the wrong floor. I had to use the restroom. On my way, I passed a very attractive doctor (hey, I wasn't dead.) He nodded hello and smiled as I walked by. The doctor surprisingly appeared in the restoom. I was not ready for this. My heart began to race faster as he took the urnial next to me. He was not there to relieve himself but to get relief. This would end up as a random sex act in a restroom stall. He orgasmed quickly and asked if I was okay. We quickly went to an open area of the restroom. His caregiver side took over. "What are you here for?" I explained the reason for my visit. He calmly whispered: "Follow me." He lead me to radiology and flashed his badge and said: "I need the a file for Matthew Cortez." The clerk handed him the large envelope for which he signed. Dr. Jeff put his hand on the back of my neck motioning me to walk. He handed me the packet with a wink and a hug. I was teary-eyed. "Take care of yourself and good luck." he said with a smile. I would never see him again.

Finally, it was appointment day. Greg kissed and hugged me before heading to the office with a "Good luck." I was in for another long wait at Charity Hospital among the many in the "system." I just thank God I had any care at all. I have no pretense. I was sitting with others like me, no where to go but Charity. Every now and then a shackled criminal from New Orleans Central Lock-up would appear. If spoken to, I chatted up others. I felt I had something in common with everyone: they all had a story, usually one of hard luck. Tell me about it.

My name was finally called and I was ushered to an examing room. I had my M.R.I. images which I had uniquely obtained. The neurosurgeon entered the room with a resident intern. He intoduced himself along with Dr. Brad. He quickly remarked: "My God, a skinny one. How did this happen? I've seen obese folks ALL day." I told him it was an accumulation of incidents. He told me to remove my pants and lay on the table. He chatted with intern Brad as he pulled out some tools that he would roll in all areas of my leg and foot for sensitivity. He then lifted my left leg cupping his hand on my knee to keep it straight. He couldn't even raise it more than half before I began to wince in pain. He took the M.R.I. films and thumb trough the images. He put up the one he needed and turned on the imaging light. "Wow!" "Poor little guy. You must be in serious world of hurt." I just began to sob. I was so embarassed. It was just his words. Finally, someone said it.

The doctor ask me to sit up and put his hand on my leg. "I know, it's gonna be okay." "Matt, you're pretty bad. You already have progressive nerve damage. I want to operate next Thursday." I agreed. He explained it would be an out-patient procedure: early in with discharge in the evening, barring no complications. "Heavier patients usually require an overnight stay" he explained. "The incision will be about 2-1/2. Keep in mind, back surgery procedures like this have evolved. I'm not promising an end to ALL your pain, but we should be able knock out a good bit of it, especially the sciatica, which is most painful."

I made my way to the reception desk to set up labs, etc. The Dr. passed me as I left. "See you next Thursday, Matt" he said confidently. This was a good day.

-Matt