Today, I met with an orthopedic doctor about my numb left hand. It has been like this for 12 days, 4 hours and 13 minutes. After two massage appointments, two chiropractic appointments, 24,000 mgs of ibuprofen, cold compresses and an improvised sling made from a ratty old towel and a tensor bandage, I was ready for someone to tell me that everything was going to be fine and that my golf club and I would meet again.
My doctor came into the examining room and promptly turned me in to a woman who could not form complete sentences. I'm not sure what the deal is with me and certain men but sometimes, without warning, I am rendered beyond dumb blonde. The trouble is, I never know when it is going to strike.
For instance, we outsource our IT to a local company. One of the employees of this company tends to handle a lot of our business. He is pleasant, ordinary and just...normal. But, his voice is remarkable. It is the depths of the ocean deep with a slight gravely edge that melts my spine and makes me stutter like a schoolgirl. I have to write talking points out before calling him. He is also very, very happily married and still, I cannot control the goose pimples when I have to discuss FTP logons and password resets. Ridiculous, I know.
So today, in walks Dr. Mc Make My Heart Skip a Beat, and once again, it's the deer in the headlights show. I am not sure what specific quality it was. Maybe it was his hands. They were man hands, with nails of the proper length and get this...a golf tan! Or maybe, it was his outrageously expensive Italian black leather shoes. They looked custom made and soft enough to wear to bed. Maybe it was the perfectly trimmed stash and goatee and the good haircut or perhaps it was the stylish glasses. Who knows? Whatever it was, it made it much easier to hear the news that my numbness was likely caused by a ruptured disc at C8. That means surgery.
So, until I get the MRI to confirm the suspicion, we agreed to treat it like cubital tunnel syndrome, which resulted in this:
It is removable, thank god. My memories are still fresh concerning the last time I had to wear a cast and I vividly remember an incident with the cast, me and a bunch of Texas fire ants. I'll save that story for another day.
I think the reason Dr.Sexy Metro Boy had such an effect was nicely summed up in his parting comments to me. He reassured me that everything would be fine one way or the other very soon. Then he said,
"You know, it's no fun getting older, is it? The day after my fortieth birthday, I got my first set of bifocals. That same year, I suffered through compressed ulnar nerves in BOTH arms. It will get better. I promise."
I might be a little bit in love.
2 comments:
You don't have a tag board so I just chose the top post. I was journal surfing and landed here. I enjoyed several of your posts. The one about your daughter, DNA and panties made me laugh. You definately have a handful!
I am not so sure you really understand America after reading your July 4th post, but I see some of your view. As far as dropping the bombs on Japan, you might think it was overkill, but what you aren't taking in to consideration is you are just looking at the size of the country not the size of their egos. They wouldn't have listened to less. Remember they were the ones who started it and they weren't going to end it without powerful reason.
Overall it was an interesting visit. Hope you don't have to have surgery and your hands get better!
Your poor hand! I'm glad that the prognosis is good!
You could NEVER appear gobsmacked-can't imagine it for a second! Even with Chris Martin begging to sing for you...well, maybe THEN!!!
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