Dr. Li listened carefully as I explained the pain symptoms. He asked questions and nodded at the answers. Everything I told him, he seemed to give an additional nod, so by the time I finished explaining it all I half expected him to toss a diagnosis out at me.
He shook his head, his wise old Chinese eyes squinting behind thick glasses. “This could be many things. But, I think I know what it might be. If I’m right, you will no longer be consulting me on this case. I’ll remain your doctor for general purposes, but this is far more serious and needs specialization.”
Feathermaye and I were ready for about anything. From all the research we’d done, we were ready for anything from Arthritis to Fibromyalgia—Arthritis runs in the family, after all. By this time, we had discovered that the pain seemed to radiate from both joint and muscle, and even bone placement in my shoulders and wrists felt dicey, loose, like worn out links in a chain: ready to snap off at any minute.
“They call this disease Poly-Myalgia Rheumatica. It is very painful, but completely treatable. Here…” He held out the card for the (Rheumatic) specialist; he is another of the vast network of Kelsy Seybold doctors here in the world’s largest medical city. Houston is the capital of energy, but its 2nd largest business empire is medicine.
Dr. Mario Lamothe, my Rheumatic Specialist, quickly confirmed the diagnosis, based on all the blood work and tests. This very sharp man gave me the low-down on my PMR:
“This is a very crafty disease. We have no idea what causes it, but we can treat it completely with a steroid. That, along with some pain medication to keep the flair-ups from debilitating you or preventing your sleep should see this right through. It will take up to a year of drug treatment before you begin physical therapy.”
“Geeze…you think therapy is gonna be necessary?”
Lamothe leaned closer and smiled. “This is one of those diseases you will not want to play around with, Mr. Herndon. When it hurts, as you already know, it can cripple you and leave you on Agony Road. It’s best not to go there very often. The pain is also associated with deep depression and other psychological side effects.”
“So when I told my wife that this is the pain that drives a man insane…”
“You hit the nail on the head, sir.” He went on with his warning: “Throughout your shoulders and hips, and more indirectly related, your knees and arms all show evidence of past trauma and injury. You have several places where your tendon sheath, that critical part that actually attaches muscle to bone, have been damaged to such an extent, that merely using them now will force more irritation and swelling, more white blood cells rushing to the attack. I’ll say it again; you’ve already had this kind of pain. Wasn’t it excruciating?”
My nod was automatic.
Once this treatment has run its course, physical therapy will be what brings back your full range of motion, such as it will be by that time.”
So there it was. There are a lot of big time diseases that you think only happen to other folks. And, I know that other folks can, and will be at one time or another, Me. All in all, it appears this one is just going to fuck with me constantly, like the gremlin on Twilight Zone, eating the rivets out of the plane wing while Will Shatner looses his mind trying to get somebody to listen to him. At least now I'm not wondering if I'm rolling down death's hill.
Today is a good day. The pain is way back there. I can type for a good fifteen minutes at a time—YEAH! Yesterday I could hardly stand up after two previously good days: days when the pain is remote and not much more than cramp-like. I can live with that.
I know people with much more serious but related battles like Fibromyalgia, which has no cure and eventually outpaces any treatment, leaving this pain hugging your life with hell-on-earth misery.
Therefore, but by grace go I… huh?
"I think I might feel like playing some music tonight, darlin--you think I should?" I asked The Fabulous Feathermaye as we took some night air. She's been awesome and irreplaceable through this developing mess. But she's a practical girl; a no bullshit sister, who calls me out when I need it...
"Don't put that responsibility on me..." She said it matter-of-factly. "I can't speak for your pain, silly. If it hurts you shouldn't. It's got to have some healing time. I want to play music, sure, but I'm not going to spend the next three days with you screaming about pain because you jumped the gun, cowboy."
I looked off into the purple night clouds and gave her a Marshall Dillon nod. "Yup..."
Of course, this has put some set-back in my writing plans, at least for a bit. Fear not, we continue to write and work, even if we may be a little while before putting out anything new. But when we do, you’ll all be in for a big surprise…
I’ll keep updating here on the blog as things progress.
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