Black & Blue, In Crutches Too
It was the day after the whole foot injury #2 fiasco, and I had calmed down over the whole situation.
I went to the new hospital to have the appointment with the new orthopedic surgeon that I had booked a visit with so many months back.
I showed them a document I had kept that had the history condensed along with images of the decline in progression of my foot.
They took many notes and wanted to speak with some colleagues to see if anyone had any ideas on the case. We looked at the MRI CD that I had brought from Texas and found that it was too difficult to see anything because there was too much inflammation in the IPJ area. This was a comment I had heard from a few other doctors who looked at the MRI as well.
I was told that the most recent injury that had occurred the previous day, was likely a pressure sore/blister. I needed to be extremely careful that it didn’t rupture or else I needed to return to the ED immediately. The bruising had turned to a blackish color, and I was told to remain off of my feet as much as possible.
When I got back to my apartment, I called my parents and explained that I couldn’t move around, let alone get groceries to be able to cook food for myself. We came up with a plan and my dad got on the earliest flight to Boston to be able to help me. He would arrive two days from when I had called.
For the next 2 weeks my dad stayed with me and helped with errands around the house until my foot bruising and swelling returned to normal so I could return to work.
During this time, we thought we had gotten a glimpse of hope over the MRI because the orthopedic surgeon I had spoken to thought they had seen a foreign body (what they thought was a sliver of a bone fragment) in one of the images. They had more people look at it and realized it was just a computer glitch.
I received a portal message the next day from the orthopedic surgeon saying they spoke with colleagues and had no idea about the case. They said I should maybe try seeing an orthopedic oncologist or allergist to see if they had any thoughts. They wanted me to let them know what ends up coming of everything, and they left the case.
Still on the hunt, my physical therapists helped create a list of doctors I could see and gave me one last name to try.
I scheduled an appointment with one last orthopedic surgeon who happened to be at the same hospital for July 7th, 2021.
I had another follow-up test with the allergy clinic to see if eating chocolate would trigger those odd symptoms I had. To my complete surprise- the symptoms didn’t happen. I had lots of acid reflux, stomach pain etc. but no muffled sounds or dropping blood pressure. I had no idea what made all of those symptoms go away.
I was told by the doctor to get back on Omeprazole because I was likely just having issues with my GERD.
I called my GI office to restart the medication and was told that my nurse practitioner had also left the hospital, and I didn’t have any form of a GI doctor anymore. They were trying to assign me to a new doctor, but I kept getting told my case file kept getting lost.
I had an appointment coming up with my primary care physician so I figured I would be able to get back on Omeprazole when I saw them next. I had also been on the Nortriptyline since mid-May at this point with no differences in my abdominal pain.
My dad had just left (after he had stayed a little extra just in case I somehow got hurt again) and I had my appointment for my EMG of my leg and lower spine on June 21st.
I went in knowing it was going to be painful, so I was ready that day for when it came. The doctor came in and explained it was going to be painful and if I needed them to stop so I could take a break, to let them know.
The EMG requires them to put in a needle into different muscles in your foot, leg, thigh, and lower back where they send electrical pulses to see if the nerves are firing correctly.
It was painful but I was surprised at how well I kept everything together. The doctor even commented afterwards saying they’d never seen someone be able to tolerate it so well (perhaps my chronic pain history helped me tolerate it).
The neurologist who performed the exam explained they didn’t see anything, but it didn’t mean that it couldn’t be a small fiber neuropathy. They told me the neurologist on my case would discuss it with me further at my next appointment.
I felt relatively normal within this new limbo of getting my foot case dropped left and right and began introducing the case to doctors by saying, “I don’t expect you to help me, I am just asking for you to look at this and then I’ll leave.” It just became the norm that I was just going to doctors to add another tally to the number of them I had seen at this point.
This is why, when the next doctor answered my comment by saying, “I’m not going to leave the case,” I was taken aback and shocked.
This last statement jumps the storyline a bit since a lot more happens between June and July. Read more on how the story unfolds in the post titled, “Don’t You Forget About Me!”