Don't tase me doc!

I recently injured myself.  And by "injured", I mean I used my body to actually do physical labor.  As a result, parts of my writing hand are now chronically numb (and my other hand is a bit "iffy" also).  While that condition would be fine for my teeth (thus saving hundreds on lidocaine at the dentist), it doesn't work well for someone who basically just sits and types for a living.

So I scheduled an appointment to see my doctor.  He (sort of like an A-list celeb) has an entourage of "peeps" to protect him from actually seeing his patients.  His first line of defense is the crabby and rude telephone lady (who he apparently hired specifically for her world-class crabbiness and rudeness).

Once I can get past her and show up for my appointment, the next rampart I must hurdle takes the form of the crabby and rude receptionist (who I think just barely lost out on the crabby and rude telephone lady job and is now, as a result, exceptionally more crabby and rude).  Her motto seems to be "don't diagnose/prescribe/heal/help them until you see the whites of their insurance card (and the greens of their co-pay)!".

The truly humiliating element of these exchanges (with the telephone lady, the receptionist, et al) is that, to try to avoid rousing their inner beast, I find myself putting on a fake exceedingly happy demeanor (it is interesting that, by coincidence, the root of that word is "demean").  It is the equivalent of falling prostrate in front of them, kissing their feet, and shamelessly groveling just out of fear of hearing the words "off with his head!".  But I digress...

My doctor's office

Anyway, when I successfully made it inside of Fort Knox for my hand problem, my doctor told me that I needed to have a "painful" test performed.  Now, since doctors are prohibited by professional oath to admit anything is painful, this scared me (especially since there was apparently no better name/description for the test and since I am severely allergic to pain).  As the world started spinning around me (but before my face slammed against the tissue paper on the examining table), I distinctly recall hearing words like "needles", "electrical shocks", "Chinese water torture", and "bamboo under the fingernails".

After he brought me to, all I could picture were scenes from "The Right Stuff" where they do various strange medical tests on the Project Mercury astronauts (BTW, if you haven't seen this movie, you ought to).  The one scene in particular that kept flashing before my eyes is where they jab a big needle (the size of a McDonald's drink straw) in the arm of Scott Glenn (ironically portraying Alan Shepard), hook it up to a generator, and turn on the electricity.  This causes his hand to spasm and convulse wildly.  When he gets up to leave, he has to use his other hand/arm to pick up his tested arm (which looks like Harry Potter's arm after Gilderoy Lockhart removed the bones from it instead of mending them).

An astronaut medical testing scene from "The Right Stuff"

Comparative size of McDonald's straws

Harry Potter's boneless arm

Needless to say, when I showed up for the (scientifically and appropiately named) "painful" test at the hospital, I was very nervous.  However, it turned out that I had blown all of my "electrical needle" fears completely out of proportion.  Unfortunately, there were other fears which I had totally neglected since my doctor hadn't warned me about the "taser" portion of the test.

During this part, the person administrating the test (I don't know his name, but I think "Igor" will suffice for the purposes of this post) used a taser to shock me at several places along my arm, wrist, and hand.  The taser was connected by wires to some sort of monitor so that Igor could determine the places that were most sensitive to the shocks (thus maximizing his enjoyment).

Ladies and Gentlemen, does this look like modern medical science?!?!
Why couldn't we have just stuck with the leeches?
They seem like nice enough little things (especially by comparison).

However, I am proud to say that I survived the test.  Amazingly, the test itself miraculously cured all of the feelings of numbness and pain in my other arm (basically 'cuz there is no way I'm ever going to suffer through that test again).

After receiving the results, my doctor told me that I have Carpal Tunnel syndrome.  He then said that he knew that was the case even before prescribing the test, but that the insurance company would require the "painful" test be completed before they would allow treatment.  Yet another reason to hate insurance companies.  I'd like to see Igor have a field day at their office.

So, now it appears that I will require surgery to address the problem.  However, the hand surgeon, to which I was referred, wants me to try 30 days of an anti-inflammatory drug first to see if that might relieve my symptoms.  Why couldn't I at least have gotten to try that before the "painful" test?!?!  It seems like the order of events got slightly out of whack somewhere along the way.

I'm thinking/hoping the surgery won't be as bad as the test that I've already endured.  However, I have read some articles on the internet (which is always a bad choice when looking for reassurance regarding anything of a medical nature) that say the surgery is often performed with just a local anesthetic (possibly to sate the sadists at the insurance company yet again)!  What day and age are we living in here folks?!?!  Why not just pour some whiskey down my throat and give me a bullet to bite on?!?!  Surely the findings of Albert Einstein (and/or the other geniuses of our time) can be applied to the alleviation of medical pain and terror!  C'mon people, something is wrong here...our priorities are all screwed up.

My fear-o-meter is once again pegged.

Old age really does suck (and I'm only in the early onset of the disease).

Flint