Surgeons Blow

I have now seen the MRI for myself. The herniation of the disc is quite ugly and it protrudes significantly in to the spinal canal. No wonder I hurt like hell. That said, surgeons blow.

I went to a surgical consult, only because the orthopedist wanted me to. He is convinced that he will do surgery on my owie some day. AS IF! I cannot remember anyone I know who has had back surgery who said, "wow, I'm glad I did that. That was a great idea."

I have apparently bitch slapped my owie enough that the mere threat of a knife has hopefully frightened the healing process into beginning. One week ago, a dose of vicodin would have worn off after two hours. Even Tuesday, I needed the newly approved higher does of vicodin and an afternoon sleep off to manage the pain. Today, I have had no vicodin since noon yesterday, because I have not needed it. I have had no pain meds of any type since 8:30 last night, because I have not needed them.

Actually, the most effective relief for the condition thus far has been endorphins. I feel great and have absolutely no pain after a good run, or after . . . uhm . . . you know . . . certain other recreational/procreational activities common to grownups. If I could just figure out how to live perpetually in a post run high or post-whoopie afterglow, I'd have this thing wired. If I have any medical readers who would like to pursue such research, I am willing to donate my body to science. I'm sacrificial that way.

And so it goes. By the time you actually navigate the hoops and hurdles to gain access to a physician, you are either dead or you don't actually need them. And this holds true even if you're a highly paid uber professional with copious medical insurance.

And forget about even getting enough cooperation or information from a physician to permit you to make judgments about preparing for long course triathlon. Just try and get them to understand the training. They're used to treating Americans--i.e., people who sit eat on their couches while watchin the Bachelor, and/or complain while they waddle from prescription to prescription, waiting to expire.

I however, prefer 8x800 yesterday and a 20 mile long run this weekend. (Holy crap, wish me luck). I'm going to do it until it hurts or until someone I trust tells me to stop.

Wow, that was kind of a rant.

In a more positive vein, I know that all you guys out there like to support your significant others. In particular, if your girl has complained about her gear, and if you want to be supportive of those special qualities about her that you find so desirable, go here. She'll thank you for it. I'm just sayin'

Word? Ladies?