Scratch my last


I don’t hope the CT scan shows something. Because if it does that means there’s something worse than muscle strain going on; there’s longer recovery; there’s me being weaker for a long time.

Too damn bad. I made my wish and I have to deal with the consequences.

Got my CT scan results back today. I have mild to moderate disc bulges in the three lower discs in my spine; the lumbar region. They’re not herniated, which means I’m very lucky.

But I can tell you right now — if my mom had not been with me a week ago today, if she hadn’t taken me to the hospital, if I’d gone by myself or with a friend…. The chances of me having a herniated disc in my back afterwards would be infinitely higher. I would have gone back to my house, where I probably would have slipped and fallen, and one fall could ruin my back. One fall, and I’m needing surgery and looking at never horseback riding, playing racquetball, etc etc ever again.

And that would have happened, without mom. Because the doctor in the ER ignored me when I said I have chronic back pain. He assumed I was a hysterical hypochondriac fat female and told me it was muscle strain when it was three bulged discs. Even I knew that he was wrong when he said the pain was in my pelvic muscles and not my spine. Because I know my body better than he does.

I’m mad and depressed and on the verge of tears. I wanted it to be a muscle strain, because that would have been 6 to 12 weeks of recovery, but fewer worries about permanent injury. Disc bulges mean I’m screwed for ever having a normal life again. I know, because my mom went through this. She almost died.

My discs are not as bad as hers were, but they can get there. All it will take is one fall. Just one moment of me being careless, thinking I’m better than I am, and boom.

And had mom not been there for me, I would have gone on and done just that, because I know myself. I would have made myself work through the pain. And may have ended up on the floor of my house, unable to move or call for help, until I passed out and then eventually died of dehydration.

All because the doctor at Nanaimo Gen. emerge. assumed I was making mountains out of molehills and begging for attention because I’m fat, and didn’t give me the goddamn time of day.

Thanks, Dr. Dorran. Thanks so bloody much.

And thank the GODS for my mom, who got me to Coquitlam where I have the use of wheelchairs, walkers, and elevators, got me an x-ray, got me a CT, got me a doctor’s appointment for today with someone who knows what the hell she’s doing, got me a referral to an endocrinologist so I can balance my hormones and lose weight, and is now trying to get me a physiotherapist, massage therapist, and chiropractor.

I am very, very lucky that I have a parent like my mom. She’s saving my life. Quite literally.

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