A leap of faith!

I have been struggling with an arthritic knee and an aching neck for the past several months. These ailments and their associated pain have taught me many things, one being that I am not good with chronic pain, and second, that I am an excellent complainer. Just ask my husband (the word "whining" has been used)! I never really appreciated being in good health. Oh yeah, I always chimed in with nodding approval upon hearing, "nothing is more important than your health," or "if you have your health you have everything," but in truth, they were just words in my happy little healthy life. I have always been in pretty good health. I have had my broken bones, my surgeries, my parasites, things that were easily fixable. Now, I am dealing with degenerative bones, not so easy to fix.

The knee pain made me pine for the days when I could walk without a limp, climb steps without feeling like a razor blade was just behind my knee cap, get in and out of the car without wincing, and roll over in bed without fear. After a series of x-rays, an MRI, a cortisone shot, fluid drainage, four different doctors and hundreds of co-pay dollars, I was told I was a future candidate for knee replacement. Me and a million other baby-boomers.

Just as the knee was beginning to feel a whole lot better, I had a new ailment to complain about. My neck was killing me! Back to the doctor. I told him I was becoming a real regular and he joked we needed to stop meeting like this. Dr. Bass, or, as Harry calls him, Sea Bass, because his first name is Charles, gave me wonderful painkilling drugs that I wanted to take for the rest of my life. He said, no, no refills. (But you can get them over the counter in Mexico!!) He suggested physical therapy. I followed doctor's orders and went for physical therapy twice a week for a month with no real improvement.

This past weekend the pain was bad enough that the over-the-counter painkillers washed down with a series of gin and tonics gave me no relief. So on a whim, I thought I would try a little massage therapy. I found a therapist near our condo and opted for an hour-long session. The therapist said the muscles in my neck and back were rock hard. The massage was a bit painful, but it seemed to help. At the end of the session, she told me to drink lots of fluids in the next few hours and to consider a trip to the chiropractor. She said all I probably needed was a tweak or two and I would be fine. Wow! The quick fix I was looking for.

The next day the pain was back in force and I took my leap of faith. I have never been to a chiropractor and never understood why people go to them; but, being desperately open-minded, I called for an appointment. The chiropractor I saw did a series of x-rays of my spine and neck. He took a look at the results and made a face like the one the doctor and dentist made when they looked inside Harry's mouth to discover his jaw was floating around in his mouth. I said in my most calm panicky voice "What is it?" "What is wrong?" He said I should come the next day and bring my husband. This would give him time to present my x-rays in an understandable way to both of us. What did he have in mind, a PowerPoint presentation entitled: Jeanne Baxter your neck is a real mess?

Harry, who believes chiropractors are akin to witchdoctors, came with me to the appointment. We learned that my diagnosis is called F.H.P. chiropractic-speak for forward head posture. There was a slim ray of hope, he said, if I came several times a week for a month. He said if the treatments did not help, a neurosurgeon would be my next step. For what, I thought: are they now doing neck replacements? He then gave me an adjustment. The word itself was more than a little scary. I feared he could render me paralyzed.

I went back to my regular doctor and told him about my latest attempts to treat myself, leaving out the gin and tonic part. He gave me referrals to a spinal specialist and a neurologist. He said he thought it fine that I go for therapeutic massages and see a chiropractor if I felt it helped, though when Harry, whom I had dragged along for this one as well, implied certain limitations inherent in chiropractics, he did not firmly disagree. So, I have been to the chiropractor three times and have experienced some relief.

Both my knee and neck pains are probably related to injuries I suffered in my thirties that I thought at the time were no big deal. Harry says my big mistake was turning 60, since it has all been downhill from there and my trade-in value has been plummeting. I can hardly wait to see what 70 might bring if I make it that far. I only wish I had purchased that long-term-care insurance they tried to sell me at age 50.

*I wrote a blog about quilting called: NO EXCUSES! last week that was published after my blog entitled, A Week of Tears. It, for reasons I could not correct, did not appear last week in the right chronological order. It is listed on the list of March blogs however should you want to read it.