Another day, another doctor

Off I went to work today to attempt to catch up from missing three workdays over the weekend. Everything seemed to be going swimmingly until about 11:45 when I got a call from Beastie: "Come home. Now." So I raced home.

I found him lying on the living room floor, weeping. He'd fallen--he thinks it was about 11 when he got up to go in the other room--and had crawled back to the living room where the phone was so he could call me. I called the doctor--who was at lunch--and then 911.

He's still in the hospital. Fortunately, the pain is under control now, due to massive amounts of morphine and Dilantin. He says the trip down the porch steps on the gurney--which our neighbor said caused Beastie to 'howl'--was nothing compared to the trip over the "fucking awful roads in this fucking county."

When I came home for incidentals about 4:30, I was stopped by four different neighbors for a full recounting of what was going on, which was at that point: {shrug}

They are now saying the X-rays showed no structural damage and the doctor's about 95% sure that the whole thing is sciatica. Yes, those of you (us) who've had that can now clutch your thighs and weep along in sympathy. Beast will have an MRI tomorrow (or late tonight, I guess) to see if it's 'just' the nerve, or if a disk is involved too.

And wasn't that phone call to his mom a lot of fun on the way home from the hospital? I didn't have the phone number of the hospital, but I'm sure glad we get along well; otherwise I think she'd've been totally on my case for that and for not calling sooner.

I think this is our "annus horribilis"--Remember 1992?--although I guess Liz still wins the award for most things going wrong on a huge scale. By comparison, three hospital visits, a wedding, a trip overseas for Sparky, my mom's health tanking, surgery for Beastie, and multiple relatives staying at our house (not to mention another relative getting mugged) is pretty tame compared to Windsor Castle burning and the Royal Family imploding as a unit.



The most ironic part of the day? Beastie waited in ER in the 'minor care' section. Apparently, since he wasn't acutely infarcting or bleeding out, he only gets minor care.

They really MUST rename that area!! It doesn't feel minor when your leg is on fire.