November 2 – “Compelling”

After waiting what seemed like forever, I finally had an appointment with a rheumatologist today in Houston.   He and his student doctor did the kind of exam I expected.  He felt my knuckles, wrists and elbows.  He tapped on my knees with his little hammer.  He listened to my lungs and heart.  He asked me a lot of questions.  He made quite a few comments that I sure didn't understand.  Chris picked up on a few of them and looked them up when we got home.  On most of them she thought he was just speculating or brainstorming or guessing or showing off for the student or something.  Every so often he would ask the student what she would do, or what she thought was going on, or what medication she thought might help.  That got to be kind of funny.  He would ask about a very specific procedure, and she would get a quizzical look on her face and say, "I don't think we should do that."  He would push the issue, trying to get her to change her mind.  Finally he would grin and reply, "OK.  Neither would I."  They argued about whether I should have x-rays or another MRI.  Finally he said, "Oh, I don't think we should do either one.  They wouldn't tell us anything right now, anyway."  They almost got a rise out of me when they debated the pros and cons of putting me on some more steroids.  That's not an experience I am particularly eager to duplicate.   In his mumblings to himself, we caught a few of his random theories.  At one point he said it could all be related to my disc problems.  Fairly reasonable, I guess.  Then he said my elbow might hurt because back when I had shoulder surgery I probably used the elbow wrong to favor the wrist.  What?  That was two years ago, and my shoulder has felt fine since then.  He said the name of some strange, off-the-wall spinal condition where the spine fuses to itself and I get shorter and hunched over.  That's the one Chris actually remembered and looked up.  She said that was equally silly.  I am shorter than I used to be, though.  With my shoes on I am now officially only 5 feet 8 inches.  I used to be five nine.  The one thing I did understand was when he said he was definitely not ruling out rheumatoid arthritis yet.   When he finally finished quizzing the student and guessing to himself, he stood up and said, "Well, I must say, your case is compelling.  I am intrigued by your symptoms."  That's not exactly what I wanted to hear from the guy who is supposed to pull a Doctor House out of his hat and tell me right then what is wrong.  Compelling.  At least he was interested.  He ordered all the same blood work I had with the neurologist, because that blood work was really useless for what he wanted to see, because it was done right after I was on those steroids.  He even ordered a urinalysis.    And what was the bottom line?  Well, apparently the bottom line hasn't been written yet.  He finally said, "I really don't know what's going on just yet.  I want to see the blood work.  Take this slightly stronger medication twice a day.  Take it with food and make sure you sit up for 20 minutes after taking it, or it will eat a hole in your esophagus.  Come back and see me in two weeks."  And that was that.   So I still don't know what's going on.  I get to try a new medication that may help, or it may eat a hole in my esophagus, but it will probably at least make me sleepy all day.  Chris found one potential side effect that was really exciting – heart failure.  See ya, everybody.   Philippians 1:21 says, "For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain."   Father, I know I'm still around for a purpose.  My heart goal is to live like Christ … really.  I'm not particularly excited about dying right now.  I'm just tired -  again.  Help.  Amen.