Such Good News (?)

fingers crossed and toes

It’s been awhile since I had the desire, or stength and ability, to write.

So I am celebrating, in a way.

So many days of extreme cold have put the kibosh on any desire to do anything but crawl out of bed, kiss my honey goodbye, and walk the dog. I cannot remember at any time when such a cold snap affected, not only my outlook on life (which is usually darn positive), but all my working parts, especially my damn back.

Bad back? Nothing new to most adults, so this might resonate.

Especially for old guys trying to endure extreme cold, and long sleepless nights. The good thing at this time, the sleepless nights have abated. Nothing like having a Molly sleeping pad. But the back? Oh the back, never. Fortunately, I write now with hope, tempered, as once again, relief might be in sight, German style.

In most of my adult life, I cannot remember a time when I’ve not been to a doctor for help. Too many years of driving a truck, bending over a computer screen, doing too many stupid things to put my back in jeopardy. By this time, after reading and reading and reading about the back, its treatment, and specifics of my case (which seem to be pretty universal), I’ve only been able to come up with a way to deal. So, there are good days, and bad, and sometimes so horrible I am desperate to keep my mouth shut to keep Susan from trading me in on a newer, pain free, hunkier model. The recent cold here brought out the horrible, so much so, a desperate epiphany dislodged.

In 2014, we were living in Bavaria, in the beautiful little town of Erlangen. A recent bad back episode sent me to a local hospital for a three day stay. The hospital specialized in Orthopedics and Neurology. I am not sure such a medical institution exists anywhere in the States, dedicated to just these two maladies. Since I had also been diagnosed with peripheral neuapothy, my orthopedic guy highly recoimmended I go.

I knew something was different after the half hour ride to the small town of Rumnlesburg, one with with a big hospital and its own train stop. The intake nurse, after taking all my particulars down, apologized when she said they would have to charge me for each night. I felt the hammer about to drop. Ten euros per night. I looked at Susan. With a smile, she assured we could afford that. For the next three days they ran every test under the sun on me, no other charges, but I had to bring my own towel.

All was confirmed: I had a bad back and peripheral neuropathy. What to be done, other than the usual, Ibuprofen, exercise, and prayer—in other words, next to nothing, except a referral back to the ortho guy who made the original referral. After seeing all my test results he said a shot would be in order. In his Xray room, he had me lie down on an Xray table to make sure the shot headed in the right direction. When he jabbed me, blinding pain, but it only lasted a few seconds, and then: ALL BACK PAIN DISAPPEARED FOR SIX MONTHS. I wish it could have lasted forever, because he said a constant introduction of what he injected would ruin my spine.

So, for the next ten years, once again, I learned to deal with the good, the bad, and ugly, until 2023/24, when my primary doctor in the States referred me to a pain management clinic where, once again, on separate occasions over two years, I had two more MRI’s and two more injections. Sadly, they did not help at all, so, that was that.

The half hour visit to the doctor in Erlangen ten year ago cost whatever an office visit was charged to my national health care plan. My visits, in the US, to a hospital, with nurses circling as well as anesthesiologists, and probably a janitor or two, cost about 15K each. Fortunately, I was covered by Medicare. Sadly, they did not work.

So, back to my back in this frozen wasteland where I started to become desperate once again for any relief.

During the epiphany of which I spoke, I was struck: was I not in the same country where got so much relief years before? Was the town I saw this ortho guy not just 100km south? Now all I had to do was pray he was still there, that I could remember his name, and that he still had my records. And did I not have my brother-in-law’s translation of all the results of my visits, and maybe if I searched high and low, I could find these records?

Long story short, I found the name of the doctor, he was still in business, at a clinic five hours north of Leipzig. All toes and fingers crossed when I sent him an email. Violà. I now have an appointment, with records from his work in hand, along with two more recent MRI’s and the two injections I have had since.

Even better, he suggested a colleague at a clinic much closer in Burg or Herbst, only an hour train ride north. Am I excited???? The clinic looks like it specializes in my specific problem (the one we all have more or less I guess, who knows) , and when I contacted him, he was happy to fit me in. The town of Burg is well known for its hospital and their Department of Orthopedics and Trauma Surgery, according to all my research.

I am even thinking of taking Susan and Ms. Molly up a few days early to explore. It is also well-known for its medieval churches and towers and carries the sobriquet, City of Towers.

If all is for naught (trying to keep it real), at least we will have had a nice excursion out of it all. Hoping all family and friends are well.