Johnny Be Good?

No, johnny be humiliating.

I had to see an orthopedic doctor this week about my back pain. I have very strong opinions about orthopedic doctors and this guy didn't change any of them.

Some of it was my fault. I should have left when the nurse handed me a johnny. Why would I have to wear a johnny? I was wearing yoga pants (no, I don't do yoga; yes, I wear the pants). Any doctor, if they even needed to look at my back, could work with them.

I asked the nurse if I really had to take off my clothes. You would think my surprise would have made her think twice, but in her defense, I don't think she could think once. She just repeated herself and then told me I could leave on my underwear like that was a big treat. She left and I changed into a johnny. Like an idiot.

Then I had to make that decision about where-to-sit-while-waiting-for-the-doctor. If I waited in the chair by the desk I would have a problem. The set up meant that if the doctor asked me to move to the table, it would be quite a bit more than a few steps. I would have to walk across the room. To clarify: I would have to walk across the room in a johnny (opening in the back)...with the doctor sitting at his desk behind me.

Okay, that wasn't going to happen. I waited on the table. Like an idiot. Swinging my legs and thinking about how good I was looking...wearing a johnny and little white sports socks.

The guy finally showed up and introduced himself. Coincidentally, his first name was "Doctor." (That seems to be fairly common in orthopedics.)

He sat at the desk and asked me why I was there. I told him about my back and then he asked again why I was there.

I was stumped. For some reason, sitting there on a table, in a johnny, staring down at my little white socks, I started to feel a little at a loss for words. Maybe...Like an idiot?

He, of course, quickly concluded I had the IQ of a pet hamster. After an awkward silence he said, "Let me rephrase the question. What is it you have come here expecting me to do for you?"

At that point, it started to feel like a test. I was breaking into a nervous, clammy sweat and I was purposely trying to keep my mouth shut.

My back hurt. This guy was being a condescending @#$%&. He had to be more than 10 years younger than I. Put him in jeans and a tee shirt at Target and I'd call him a punk. But there I was, standing in front of him, sweating, wearing a johnny, and little white sports socks. I became painfully aware of MY clothing folded neatly on the chair next to HIS desk.

What was it I came there expecting him to do for me? Perhaps I should have suggested to him that I had come there expecting him to lend me some money. Or maybe give me the outfit they made me put on and in fact, let me wear it home.

I don't know, maybe it was crazy, but I at least expected to be treated in a respectful manner.

The upshot (apparently): My spine looks fine.

"[Almost everyone has arthritis; 10 days of pain is not concerning or unusual. Come back in eight weeks* and if it still hurts, we'll do an MRI.]"

Thanks for the invite, I'll decline.

You would think if my experience was that common one of my friends or relatives (or perhaps the Y Chromosome Who Lives In My House) or maybe the doctor I saw at the urgent care clinic would have pointed that out to me, but they must be as ignorant as I am.

He asked if I needed more vicodin or anaprox and gave me a script for physical therapy. He got a little nicer at the end but certainly not enough to make up for his grand inquisition with regard to why I was wasting his time and certainly not enough to make up for the fact that I had to wear a johnny for no reason at all.

I have wondered how much more I would have gotten out of that appointment if I had not been wearing that stupid gown. I am sure I would have asked more questions, understood more of what was said to me, and would not be wasting more money, making another appointment, with a different doctor, to figure out what's wrong with my back.

I have also wondered this: wouldn't disagreements and negotiations go a whole lot better for me if I made people wear a johnny when they talked to me? THAT'S why doctors are so smart! I bet I would be a lot more successful and I plan to try it.

*I had to live with the pain another 10 weeks before I got an MRI. It showed a protruding disk and two weeks of Prednisone fixed it. In other words, I went through all that pain, missed work, and took all those other drugs for 10 weeks because "an MRI is an expensive test." This confuses me. Was he going to pay for it himself?

Wondering where I've been?

That's okay, I'll tell you anyway.

First, I have to admit (not really, no one ever has to admit anything) I did have blog block.

But then, my back started hurting me. I really thought it would go away by itself but finally, after a few days of it, I just got too annoyed and I caved. I went to see a doc-in-the-box about 15 miles south of my home, one my neighbor has described in the past as "very tidy." (How weird is that description?)

He's right, it was very tidy.

It was also humiliating. They wanted to know 1) How much I weigh, 2) "Where did you get the vicodin?" and 3) Whether I drink ALCOHOL.

Well, of course, my answers were something like this:

1) Weight:..."Too much, okay? Are you happy now?"

2) Vicodin:..."On the street, where else, well, really my primary care, but it sounds cool to say on the street." It also sounds cool to say, "well, I know this dude..."

And finally,

3) Wine, I mean ALCOHOL:..."Hello?!?!...The whole reason I'm here is because I can't sit up to get my drink on."

I was thinking I would do a short review on narcotic pain killers...morphine, nubaine, dilaudid, vicodin...of course, I would never pretend to know anything about those which are illegal...but, like the drugs, it would just be too boring and sort of confusing. Which is kind of the way I'm feeling.

So instead, I'm just going to complain.

I'm sleeping almost as much as the dogs sleep. I'm really finding out what this dog thing is all about and as far as I'm concerned the gig is up. They're all learning the word MUSH and they're all getting jobs. Bunch of freeloaders.

And my back still hurts.

I have bone spurs. You know how you get bone spurs? You get them when your bones have too much weight on them so they grow little things on them to try to distribute the weight better. How insulting is that?

And the doctor described my joints as "raggedy." That's nice, I'll try not to get into a car accident when I have them with me, I wouldn't want the people at the hospital to see them.

There was more, but let's face it, it's all criticism. Apparently, my spine is crooked and my bones are junk. Send them out to Popeye, splash some acrylic paint on them, and call it a day.

(A lot of people will look at this and say, "hey, this doesn't look so bad..." SAVE IT. I don't want to have to keep wondering why it hurts so bad.)