[Rowing Machine] 2021: Week 15 {219.0} “Tailbone Is Dagger-Like”

Most of the time, my tailbone is well-behaved enough, but if I walk too fast, my tailbone is like a dagger that stabs into my body to the point where I forget about anything else other than relieving the pain. Usually lying down in bed for hours will cause that pain to go away. I have to wait another week before I can meet with doctors to maybe help me diagnose what’s gone so wrong.

Outside of that, there are moments where I feel OK.

I’m not daring enough to gamble my spine’s health by going outside, going down the stairs, throwing out my garbage/recycling, driving, parking, walking with crutches, and either getting groceries or even go back to work, so I have another week of being shut inside without any ability to do much more than what I’m doing right now to wait until the appointment. I told the sports medicine doctor yesterday that I spent most of my time in bed, which is mostly true; I’m in bed more often now than I was a month ago, and more than a month before that.

I don’t know if I’ll ever row again.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to do much more than walk slowly, maybe occasionally bend down to pick something up, and if I drop a small object on the ground, good luck! I’m not optimistic about my future and I don’t feel overly confident that the doctors next week will give much more of a shit than the other ones throughout this entire process, but who knows? Maybe they will? I’ll record it for my best possible chances of recovery. Without that recording, they can say anything they want, and who am I to say anything? I am just the scumbag patient, after all, who is completely worthless compared to the almighty doctors that are top-rated and well-respected. It’s not like I actually am a scumbag, but I’ve definitely felt that way multiple times from the doctors that were supposed to care about my health as a patient, or a human being, and it’s frustrating to wait weeks or months to try talking to someone only to be shut down and ignored.

It would be nice not feeling this constant minor to major pain.

Getting a prescription for a pain patch to apply to the pain area, when the pain is actually in my tailbone and digging in, or otherwise having to try my best to pierce through the many layers of apathy to try my best to express this might seem almost like a parody. You might read this and think that I’m putting on a performance. Any exaggeration I write is for the express purpose of highlighting the absurdity of the American Healthcare System and how many doctors I’ve been shuttled around to over the past near-year I’ve had this spine problem. I may never escape this constant, daily, terrible pain. I may never be able to exercise to any degree again. I’ll never be able to lift heavy weights, do any serious exercise, or do much other than live a simple, humble life where any major movement should be carefully considered as a gamble rather than a right.

It’s not like any of the doctors I’ve met have given a shit about any of that.

Why would they? They’re quick to refer me to one of their specialists to make sure I receive the best quality care, but won’t even help get me squared away. It’s up to me to make the appointments, to chase down the ways that I can get my health in order, and return to any degree of normalcy. When I watch videos of people doing any kind of minor acrobatics like walking around, lifting up objects over 5 pounds, or even doing more than that, I always have to separate myself from them. No doctor I have met throughout my entire process has ever instilled the confidence in me that I will ever be able to do much more than walk around with a cane around my apartment, or walk around with crutches, for the rest of my life, and they’ll gladly take my co-pay, bill my insurance, and consider their care the “top-rated” care in the area.

Would they do the same if a family member of theirs had a similar issue?

I used to think that they wouldn’t, but who knows? The doctors I’ve met have all been so arrogant that they probably don’t think of patients as much more than just numbers to fill in academic studies, and that probably applies to their patients. They don’t care that I’m a human being that once had fitness goals. They don’t care that I once dreamed of owning three different rowing machines, all for different rowing styles, and wished to own a little home gym to exercise whenever I wanted. All they want is to clear me out the door as quickly as possible, move me along to a different doctor, and they do so without the least bit of empathy or respect toward me. Were it not for recording the conversation I had yesterday, I would have had yet another experience like that, but with the recording, I was able to get this doctor to actually remember that he has a fucking job to do, and he did more than what he told his assistant to tell me – as a way of telling me off, so I might cancel the appointment, so that way he didn’t have to deal with a complex case.

Sure, my case might not be the simplest.

But it would be nice, at least, to feel like any of the doctors I met along my way in the American Healthcare System gave a shit about me as a human being. I don’t believe this is my spine pain talking either. For one, if they gave a shit sooner, I would have been better by now.

Instead, I’m barely limping through life.

Endtable
Quotes: None.
Sources: My fitness experiences.
This week’s weight: 219.0
Last week’s weight: 213.5
Weight Difference: I was eating well.
Difference between writing and editing for publication: I got the injections, so fortunately I was able to get pain relief. Unfortunately, that only lasted about two weeks.
Inspirations: I wasn’t sure what else to write about, so I wrote about my spine pain again.
Related: Past weekly column entries. Sober Living essays and Tripping On [The American Healthcare System] chapters.
Pictures: Template
Written On: 2021 March 03 [11pm to 11:20pm]
Last Edited: 2021 March 03 [First draft; final draft for the Internet.]
My big goal is writing. My most important goal is writing "The Story." All other goals should work toward that central goal. My proudest moment is the most recent time I overcame some fear, which should have been today. I'm a better zombie than I was yesterday. I'm not better than you and you're not better than me. Let's strive to be better every day.