Usually we
stop for a few moments to listen to the street musicians. This time I wanted to
stop at the benches by the flamenco guitarist. We found a spot. Honey asked me
what was wrong.
“My
quad(ricep)s are numb,” I said. “It seems to go away when I sit down.”
After a few
minutes we resumed walking. Again, the front of my legs above the knee went
numb.
“What’s going
on?” Sweetie asked.
“I don’t
know, but I am going to find out,” I said.
We walked
back to the car pretty slowly, my legs complaining the whole way back.
As massage
therapists we are used to people having symptoms of things that might be a bit
worse than just sore muscles. I know I have. It is easy to tell a client to go
have it checked out. But do we forget how hard that can be?
My doctor
wanted to know what was going on right away. He recommended a lumbar X-ray
series and a lumbar MRI. The X-rays, no problem. I walked in to the offices of
the local. The MRI?
Oh heavens.
I’d had one years ago for my neck and shoulders, and I remembered being able to
handle it as long as I kept my eyes shut. Starting in the hall outside the
machine. I put the test off for a few days.
My doctor
called to find out if I had the MRI yet. The X-rays showed suspected spinal
stenosis. I needed to get in ASAP.
Spinal
stenosis? I did what everyone else does. I looked it up on WebMD. By the way,
never do that. By the time I went in for the MRI, I was convinced I would be
disabled for life.
MRIs have not
changed much, but I have. This time my arms hit the side of the tube, making me
feel like I was being held. I couldn’t do the time in the machine. Two tries
later I was sweating and resigned. I went to the local “open” MRI. Much better.
Except for the train-wreck sounds. The tech had insisted I listen to some spa
music. Thank heavens. It gave me something to focus on besides the noise of the
MRI.
I was pretty
tense when I went in for a consult with a neurosurgeon. The lady in the waiting
room was about 30, in a wheelchair. She smiled at me. I thought about whether
they have to measure you for a tongue stick. You know, the kind you use to
paint watercolors because you are in a wheelchair for life.
In the exam room, I had high blood pressure for the first time in my life. “White coat syndrome?” the assistant asked.
Seeing a neurosurgeon. Egads. The assistant loaded the MRI onto a computer. I stared at the image. What was that? Lobster tail?
The discs and all were fine, but I do have spinal stenosis and a pinched nerve at the L4-L5 foramen. The doctor smiled at me and recommended a cortisone shot. “You should be fine,” he said. “That should take care of your symptoms. You need to strengthen your psoas and spinal erectors.”
Hmm. That last part sounded like what I find with many massage clients. I thought I could feel my blood pressure drop back to normal.
I took a breath, perhaps my first of the day. “I’m sorry. I have been pretty freaked out about this,” I said.
Time for a massage.