1.25.10 – Bonjour

This morning a friend of mine, who is from the Netherlands, commented on my unhappiness surrounding the dreary weather we are currently having (my drive home in the hail and snow storm that produced white-out conditions and that came out of nowhere didn’t help my mood), reminding me that places I've stated I wanted to relocate to – London, Paris, Copenhagen – also suffer from rainy and dreary weather. She forgot one thing that outweighs the dreary weather – universal health care.

Have I mentioned how much I hate doctors? I spent ALL morning and part of the afternoon at a medical center, after being referred by my doctor last week to a Pain Management and Rehabilitation specialist. He recommended this as my pain has become chronic after my 2008 accident and the recent accident has not helped matters. I waited nearly an hour in an uncomfortable waiting room chair, then stated my information to a medical assistant who was going from one computer tab to another, barely listening and probably not even understanding what I was talking about, then I was sent downstairs for x-rays, back upstairs to wait again to see the doctor, who I then had to repeat everything I had already said to her assistant. At least the doctor seemed more open to alternative therapies and didn't think I was seeing a voodoo doctor when I referred to seeing a Chi Master for therapy. Of course voodoo might be the next step.

The outcome of all this is – who knows! It could be the disc, it could be a nerve, or it could be goblins. The doctor kept referring to her concern and “curiosity” about various letters and numbers on my spine, much of which I did not understand. The recommendation was continuing the muscle relaxant that I can only take at night as it makes me too drowsy and prescription ibuprofen. If the pain and inflammation doesn't lessen then I have a prescription for steroids she’d like me to take. If it still doesn't lessen then it's an MRI and an epidural, which I doubt my insurance will cover. I did leave with a complimentary copy of my x-rays (why pass up something that’s free), although I'm not sure I'll be able to afford the originals.

At the end of this day, all I keep thinking about is that in France, a doctor would come to me. If I had to wait an hour, at least I'd be in my home, could wear my own dressing gown, and there'd be no concern about what my insurance will or will not cover. I did take a year of French in college, but didn't get very far. With as many French films as I watch, I should be fluent by now. Perhaps instead of trying to learn Japanese last summer, I should have been learning French. I suppose it's not too late.