I showed up at the hospital for the CT scan and was taken to the machine. The same doctor who performed my ultrasound was present and they took a number of scans to try to see what they were after. When he'd had enough of that, he decided he wasn't getting the imaging he wanted from the CT so he casually suggested we walk across the hall to the MRI. Canadians, please pick up your dropped jaws. I know. I was dying over how casual the whole affair was. No rebooking at another facility, no waiting several months, no showing up at a children's hospital at one in the morning to sneak into their machines while they slept. None of that. Remember: I'm on private care here. Apparently if I were on NHS (think OHIP equivalent, but across the country), it would still be relatively simple. I'm sceptical, but that's what I've been told. Anyway, into the machine I go and within minutes we're done.
Once I'd changed out of my fashionable gown/house coat ensemble, I returned to James in the inner waiting room by the MRI. The doctor overseeing my whole diagnostic affair was sitting in a dark room at the end of the hall and he beckoned for us to join him. On the screen in front of him he had both my CT and MRI images side by side and was doing crazy digital comparisons of both. He proceeded to point out what he was looking at and explain several of the findings to me on the spot. I was just thrilled. James was slightly taken aback ("Did you see your ovaries?! He could see your ovaries!"). As I left to pay for the tests I was handed a disc with all my images from the day on them. I was on my own little Cloud 9.
I went back in to see my main doctor and we discussed the options. It was very clear that the scarring was superficial and didn't affect either muscle - it was just inconveniently wedged between them, making it difficult to resolve. Because surgery was going to require doing damage to the muscles that were perfectly fine, it was ruled out and the option we came back to was physiotherapy. At this point, I was done. I came in too optimistic and hoping for a wild, radical, revolutionary solution to get me set right asap. Hearing that physio was the recommended course of action put me right back to the countless hours (and thousands of dollars) already spent in Canada on this injury and that was it for me: I cried. My doctor became uncomfortable. All around, it was a lose-lose scenario. I couldn't get my points across and he was at a total loss for how to handle me further. So he wrote out the name, address and phone number of the physiotherapy practice he'd like me to visit and I took my leave.
Apparently my crying was difficult for him because within minutes of leaving my doctor's office, he'd called the physio practice and had a discussion with them regarding my case. Then they called me to book me an appointment. I was gob-smacked. And relieved.
I was exceptionally hasty to judge the physio recommendation because what I've experienced in physio in the UK is completely unlike any of the care I received in Canada. It's not to say it's better, just very, very different. Quite frankly, it's kicking my butt. I've got a constantly updating list of exercises to do and am expected to be in the gym doing weights four or five days a week. On top of skating. And at-home stretches and movements. And now I'm running. I secretly believe my physiotherapist wants to make me into a marathon runner.
The physio practice has a podiatrist on site who has assessed my gait and alignment. That was a strange experience in itself, but it has given me a better insight into my body. I'm very symmetrical, apparently, with high arches. Combined with a few other factors, it was decided that I should change my running shoes immediately. Good thing too, mine are filthy. So with his recommendation in hand, I went to Runners Need as directed and picked up a pair of Brooks Adrenaline. Now, five weeks into physio, I'm feeling pretty positive. It's all steps towards getting me fully functioning, but even more than that, it's helping to decrease the pain. Skin pain still abounds, but it takes less time to subside now.
If I can be permitted, which, let's be honest, I can, I consider this to be mehab Step 4: get your body sorted.
No comments:
Post a Comment