I found out what was wrong with my bayonet, and it’s looking like it’s NOT ovarian cancer! Yep, all this comfort from a diagnosis that didn’t involve any instruments being shoved anywhere.
I went to a new bone cracker tonight, a recommendation from The Hoff. I explained when all this started, Friday in my ovaries. He told me that’s a common start, the nerve wraps around to the front, north of the bayonet, right where I was having the pains.
So it’s spine/nerve/fucked-up-edness.
I was a Hot. MESS. at the new doctor. By the time I got in to see him today, I couldn’t keep the tears at bay. Seriously, Reader, I either have a very high threshold for pain and only pay attention when I’m dying, or I have a super-low tolerance and the least little twinge has me puddling up.
He got me on the table, face down. Proceeded to probe along my spine, found my neck pinched nerve that’s caused me the last 5 years of arm numbness, and then found all the other problem areas. He was good at fingering all the problems. He fingered it so well at the bottom, the pain decided to show me who was boss (the Pain is the boss, in case you’re asking), and it had me throwing myself off that table and into an upright sitting position. I was crying so much the doctor just gave up and rubbed my back for five minutes. I liked that.
Finally, shew, after I composed myself and got the puddles dried up, he asked me to lie back, face-up. Couldn’t do it. Nope. Too much radiating pain. So he twisted and cracked me from a sitting position.
I was in too much pain to even look at him as my “date.” My last chiropractor, I thought he was foxy, and pretend all of my appointments were “dates” – dates that I had to pay for in the end, after he was done twisting me into a lot of positions. You know, the typical. But this dude? He’s purely there for medical reasons. Although I’m sure I made quite a sexy impression on him with my twenty minutes of a breakdown.
I cheered myself up with a Dairy Queen Blizzard. And then some vicodin and a muscle relaxer upon returning home. Those are the three best friends that any girl can have.*
*reference: The Hangover.