Tone Parsons

I went to see the doctor today.

My back has been acting up for the past few months, slowly getting more special as time goes on.  So… last month, I called in to make an appointment to talk to the doctor about it.  Of course, having a messed up back is nothing new for me (you can read all about it on my other, more angry blog).

I was told by my wife not to do the typical male thing: walk in, give the doctor a high-five, and walk back out (yeah… I’m male, we do that).  Instead, I walked in, talked about what’s been going on, we discussed treatment options until I can get to the specialist (which he gave me a referral for), he prescribed medication that made sense, and he ordered a full work-up of x-rays for my lower back.

As soon as I was done with him, I saw the people in the lab for the x-rays (oh joy… gowns that open in the back are perfect when lying on a cold metal slab!!).  They bent me like a pretzel, told me that breathing was not an option, and then bombarded me with known cancer causing radiation.

I feel better already!

Then I hit the pharmacy and collected what the pharmacist called “The full meal deal!” (they have a sense of humor… I appreciate that).

I am forever grateful for the fact that I have excellent medical insurance.  Everything I did today came to $36.80.

I then called the neurosurgeon’s office to book an appointment.  Since I’ve been there before, and they know my history, they were able to get me in pretty quickly… early next month.  That may seem like a long time if you’ve never dealt with neurosurgeons before, but it’s actually amazingly fast (I’ve known people who have had to wait for 6 months).

So now I’m in a holding pattern until they look at the x-rays (and most likely order a MRI) and determine what fool thing is so messed up in my back.  Until then, I get to eat narcotics.

Sure… I’m still messed up, the colors are really pretty.