The Cut, Poison, & Burn Club - Part Three

I ended Wednesday’s post with the good news of how my husband and I happened to find a natural chelator — “IP-6” — to treat his hereditary hemochromatosis. This substance has helped reduce to normal levels — we believe — my husband’s blood ferritin levels and keep them there.

I wanted to add that I/we understood the doctor’s impulse to get those levels down — down to well below 100 ng/mL — as in close to 40-50 per. The reason is that at those levels, my husband’s body would be forced to recruit stored iron in order to make red blood cells. (This is why phlebotomy works in this scenario. When the body works to replace the missing blood, it needs to make red blood cells. To make red blood cells, the body needs iron…In my husband’s case, my husband’s iron levels represent an “abundance of riches” that actually has a major downside…)

Yet for us — me, especially — the operative word was “force.” A condition in play his entire life — a life of excellent health and physical strength — that heretofore had not created any health-threatening conditions, that we caught — now needs a “sledgehammer” to fix? And it has to be overnight? Literally overnight? In an ICU? Via a process that would force the elimination of not only iron, but minerals, too? This would not cause any shock to his system or its processes? And would have a happy outcome with no downside? How, exactly? We passed.

Now on to me and another self-inflicted injury. No medical advice here. Just a sad story with another happy ending.

How an Unhappy “Ride” on an Inversion Table Led to a Sledgehammer - Aug 2017

I called this a “teeter totter” in Wednesday’s post. Der. I meant one of these things. They’d intrigued me for a while. They made sense to me. Getting upside down can relieve pressure on discs and vertebrae. It’s a form of traction. I had an uncle who made a daily practice of standing on his head. We used to make jokes about it. Now I know why he did it, wise man that he was. I finally decide to try one out in-store.

I chat with the lovely in-store service person for a couple of minutes about my interest. She explains how the thing works, etc. I climb on. I invert slightly — nowhere near what the woman in the image is doing. Not feeling much of anything. I tried a little further. All still fine. The woman suggests we stop it there and come back up. I come back up, step off, and she asks how I feel. Well, I feel fine, didn’t feel much of anything in my back — no traction effect or anything. Guess you have to build up to that almost-standing-on-your-head position.

Or not…For me it would be, “Or not.”

Lightening strikes. This time it’s the left side of my low back. Something I’ve never felt before and it’s getting baaaaddd. Fast. Uh, gotta go. I quickly bought one item, a book, and then started to make my way out of the store. The pain is intensifying and moving down my leg. I manage to get into the car, drive the short distance home, but unsure how I’ll make it across our condo complex parking lot to our building. Or how I’ll make it up the three flights to our condo once I get there. The pain is now all the way down my leg into my foot. I cannot place my foot fully on the ground. Husband is away…

I actually cannot remember how I made into our little condo, but I did. I’m startled, incredulous at the pain, and just a little bit scared. Can’t sit, can’t stand, can hardly move. WTH is this?

For only the second time in my life, I call an ambulance and this time it’s for me. While waiting, I call my husband to let him know. His girl — who’s never sick, who avoids doctors, for whom taking ibuprofen represents weakness — has called an ambulance. He’s on his way home. Three hours. Meet you at the hospital. It’s a Sunday night.

First Time in an ER as the Patient

Transferred from the wheelchair to a table in a room off of the main admitting area, there I lay. Table is hard. Shiny stainless. It’s cold, too. A nurse (?) comes in. He’s nice. Asks me what’s going on. I tell him. He says they’re going to take an x-ray. Um, don’t think anything’s off…Just to be sure, he says. OK.

While waiting for someone (Who?) to come and take me into x-ray, a physician’s assistant comes in. With a needle. She greets me, I think, and tells me to roll over…

Despite being in pain that gave excruciating new meaning — pain that made me wonder how it was I still conscious — I actually became a tad…indignant. You with the needle in your hand? That’s what you say???

“What’s that?” I ask in that exhausted voice that pain brings.

“It’ll make you feel better,” she “answers.”

“I didn’t ask you that. I asked you, “What is it?”

Startled, she told me it was a muscle relaxant. A muscle relaxant? We don’t even know yet what is causing my pain, but I’m going to get injected with a muscle relaxant? Nah, I don’t think so. I’ll continue “dying.” Thanks. She leaves. Never to be seen or heard from again.

X-ray happens. They were nice, I remember. Could see my pain and did what they could to get the x-ray done quickly. Back in the room. Still waiting for the ER doctor. I think. Right? The ER doc comes around? My husband arrives before the doctor does.

I cry when I see my husband. (Why does that happen?) I managed to lay on cold stainless in stunning pain by myself for about three hours without crying. Anyway, he is not a happy camper when he hears that I’ve been alone, aside from x-ray, since the needle lady. I spot the original guy who talked to me in the room. going down the hall. I tell my husband he was the first person I saw about three hours ago.

Hubs goes after him. Has a “chat.” Comes back, and mere moments later — lo and behold — it’s the ER doc. He’s very nice and seemed genuinely upset when I told him that after declining the muscle relaxant, I was offered nothing else and no one had checked on me.

We talked about my symptoms after which he said I had clearly tripped off the largest nerve in our bodies — the sciatic nerve — and did a damn good job of doing so since the pain went all the way into my foot. This is not muscle pain — it’s nerve pain. And now I know firsthand what I’d only heard about from others: Severe sciatic pain is like no other. I’ll say.

September 2017

My “episode” lasted a good two weeks. Sent home with an opioid, an NSAID, and diazepam. The opioid barely touched it and had its own side effects, one of which I fixed with Epsom salt and warm water¹…

It was only toward the end of the second week that I could start putting my foot down to walk normally. I got around by hopping — seriously. On the toes of left foot, hop on the right. (From being all that as a bodybuilder to hopping my way to bathroom. Nice.)

In the meantime, my husband got me a primary care physician because, of course, I didn’t have one. He makes me go see her. She’s nice. 😊 She did test me for any signs of nerve damage. All systems were go. I even got one of these, which I learned later tests the L2, L3, and L4 segments of the lumbar spine. Reflexes good.

I also — against my preferences — got an MRI, mostly for my husband. This was probably a month or so after the inversion table debacle. By then, I’d been back to work, feeling better — not racing anywhere — but better and sleeping at night, for which I was very grateful.

The MRI Experience

After laying still on yet another cold stainless table for God knows how long, my back was killing me when I got up. Why did I agree to do this? I had my choice of music to help distract while I did my best to remain still, but even Stevie Ray (Vaughan) cannot overcome. First time, last time if I can help it.

I get a voice mail a few days later from the office of my not-really-my-primary-care-doctor-because-even-if-I-have-one, I don’t really have one. You know? Anyway, the voice tells me that the MRI results are back. Dr. R. wants to refer me to a back surgeon. Could you please call back?

This was my “I told you so” moment when I told my husband.

I return the call, only to have to leave a voice mail of my own. In it, I acknowledge the message and leave a question. I’m wondering if Dr. R. could share what it was she saw on the MRI that prompted her to recommend that I see a back surgeon. Could Dr. R let me know?

Here’s how the response to my question went when I got the follow-up call. Something along these lines:

Staff Member: “Hi. This is Suzy-Q (not her real name) from Dr. R.’s office. We got your message about Dr. R’s recommendation.”

Me: “Great. Thank you for the call back. Yes, very curious about that.”

Staff Member: “Yes, Dr. R. says that based on your MRI results she’d like you to follow-up with a back surgeon.”

Me: “Yes, I understand. I’m just wondering what’s prompted her to make the recommendation.”

Staff Member: “I can’t tell you that.”

Me: “Because you don’t know or Dr. R. didn’t tell you?”

Staff Member: “Um, I’m just following up to let you know what Dr. R. said.”

Me: “Yes, I know, and I know what Dr. R. said. I’m asking what reason she has for what she said. Could you find out?” (This was the essence of my voice message—why is Dr. R. recommending a back surgeon?)

Staff Member: “I could ask.”

Me: (Didn’t I ask that in my voice message?) “Great. That’d be great. Could you do that..? And maybe Dr. R. could call me back so we could discuss?”

Staff Member: “Uh, OK. I’ll follow up with Dr. R.”

Me: “Thank you very much. Please let Dr. R. know she can call me on this number. It’s my mobile.”

Guess who never heard back? Guess who never went to see a “back surgeon?” (Who just agrees to go see somebody whose specialty is cutting into people without knowing beforehand the reason/s they might “need” cutting into??) Color me shocked.

I let it go. Besides, I fainted when I got my ears pierced.

Despite continuing to improve, I knew my injury had another side. At the risk of sounding overly dramatic, I realized I’d also suffered a psychological injury. What if I step the wrong way? Will it come back? What if I actually did do some major damage — even though the pain is gone? Am I broken without knowing it? Will I ever really be the same again?

Enter “The Egoscue Method”

One of my friends is a therapist and one of the kindest, most insightful, compassionate people you’d ever want to meet. She’s still in the Boston area. While living there, I always wanted to see her more than our lives permitted, but I did get together with her soon after I was back on my feet.

I’d told her what happened, so she was prepared to talk about it. She tells me about her brother. “Bad” knees. Needs new ones. Nothing can be done except replacement. It’s the last thing he wants, but what else can he do? His life is miserable due to the pain and incapacity.

Someone in his circle tells him that someone in their circle heard great things about this physical therapy — a different kind of physical therapy called The Egoscue Method. How do you say that? “Ee-goss-kwew.” Raved about their results. Yeah, but I need new knees, my friend’s brother says. How can physical therapy help at this point?

What have you got to lose?

Her brother makes an appointment. First meeting starts with an intake and explanation of what this method is — (mostly) static movements to gently ease your body back into better alignment — by focusing on your hips. My hips will help my knees, the brother asks? They will indeed. Shall we give it a try?

You can guess how this ends. His first session they took images of him using proprietary software to get a better idea of his overall alignment. He out of whack — badly. If he goes forward, they’ll build a plan, a set of “exercises” to help move his body closer to its intended alignment.

To show him, this first session included time on the Egoscue Tower. One leg at a time. Getting into position was tough — he had to get down on the floor, but once in position, my friend’s brother said the relief was almost immediate. He left feeling better than he had in months with his second appointment already made. He walked out almost pain-free.

He never had that knee surgery.

Immediate Relief

Fascinating. Immediate relief? Almost pain free? One session? Hip alignment? Where have I heard that before? Wait a minute—that’s me! Thirteen years ago a chiropractor changed the angle of my hip for half an hour and I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. But hip alignment helps knees? Apparently, says my friend. And your ankles. And your back. And shoulders. And more. My brother’s doing great, she says. With his original knees.

Sign me up! (Me being me, though, I had to research this Pete Egoscue fellow and his method before I’d actually submit. One testimonial was insufficient. Come to find out there are thousands…)

Fortunately, Egoscue had a center in the next town over. I make an appointment. My therapist is “Robin,” an angel. I get the alignment assessment. WTH? Am I really that out of whack?? While Robin could see it with her trained eye, it was only when I saw my image against the ideal that I could see it. My left hip was going its own way, as it were.

“Am I broken?” I asked. No, she said, you’re not broken. You’ve just gotten out of alignment. We all do. That’s likely what caused your sciatic event. We can fix it and we will. God designed you to heal and stay well.

I say, can I get an “AMEN!” to that?

In-center Sessions & At-home Exercises

I had regular visits in-center for about two months or so with a “prescription” for at-home exercises, which I did faithfully. I had my morning set of exercises (about 15 minutes) and my evening ones.

With some of them I could actually feel my left hip “clunking” into place each time. For example, one exercise (which I actually love and still do) involves “legs up the wall.” I place my feet in three different spots — feet against the wall with heels about three inches apart. Second spot is feet out to about 25 degrees, and then further apart at about 50 degrees.

Flex the ankles, turn the feet out away from the center line, then turn them slowly back toward the center line of the body. Clunk. Ten times. Move the feet out to 25, turn ‘em out, turn ‘em back. Ten times. Left hip “clunks” each time. No pain. Just “clunking” as the turn toward the center line “pushes” the hip toward a better position.

I “clunk” much less noticeably now than when I first started doing these. Sometimes I don’t notice any, but if I do, it tells me that something may have moved that hip out of whack. Regardless, I have no pain and I get off the floor feeling great. Every time.

After making so much progress with Egoscue, I decided to turn to chiropractic for maintenance. I found a wonderful one in Burlington, MA. He uses a gizmo called “The Activator.” I came to respect and trust him implicitly. At one point, I told him my MRI story. He asked if the doctor had given me results. Come to think of it, no. I never got the results. He said he’d be interested to see them.

I called Dr. R.’s office. They told me I had to call the hospital where it was done. Long story, but I finally got them. This is probably a year after the fact. Showed them to my chiropractor. Eyebrows up. Uh, oh. What?

He says that it’s likely because of what the written report said about my L5 and S1 vertebrae that my primary care thought I needed a “back surgeon.” Why? Well, it says you have some disc desiccation and herniation. That may have caused the sciatic event…OK, but it means I need to see a “back surgeon?” No…certainly not as a first response. Especially when your pain abated, you had no neurological impairment, and you’re in no pain now. Your alignment is good. Your back is strong…

“Paindemic” - Melissa Cady, D.O.

While still in the throes of my initial injury, I got a book called, “Paindemic,” by Doctor of Osteopathy, Melissa Cady. Though at times scathing, Dr. Cady tries to present a very balanced view of the “epidemic of pain” in the United States. What I remember especially are Pages 86 and 87 where Dr. Cady talks about back pain. From Page 86:

“When something sounds abnormal, like a herniated disc, patients often fear the worst. Here is the reality that most physicians know, but most patients do not know — nearly everyone has a spinal ‘abnormality.’” (Italics and bold from the original.)

From Page 87:

“Is it possible that patients and physicians are blaming the disc when it really is not the culprit? Absolutely. There is no doubt that simply prescribing surgery for a disc where there is NO nerve compromise (leading to leg pain, numbness, or weakness) does not make sense! There is limited value in the MRI for low back pain if there are no red flags. In fact, MRI findings can encourage patients to worry about so-called “abnormalities” when they are not relevant to their pain.”

Conversely, one can have “abnormalities” and have no pain! Dr. Cady provides a quick chart on Page 87 to show this. I went to the original² and recreated two charts from the source document's data

Using a Sledgehammer When a Feather Will Do

The above is a quote from a chiropractor I came to know via YouTube. His name is Alan Mandell. Just a lovely person — a man of faith who loves God’s creation and spends his days bringing ideas and information to what has become a worldwide audience. I heard him say that once — “…using a sledgehammer when a feather will do” — in reference to so much of how medicine operates today. It struck me and stayed with me.

I hope the personal stories in these most recent posts have helped in some way. I tried to convey that a wide variety of conditions and ailments, including minor rashes, serious back injuries, and even a genetic mutation can be dealt with in a way that is complementary, gentler, and reflects a partnership with your body vs. seeing it as the problem or the enemy.

Injury or acute trauma, OTOH, is another story. My husband tore his Achilles’ tendon. “Legs up the wall” ain’t gonna fix that. Surgery fixed it. (Even here the surgeon recommended that hubs get a tetanus shot. Hubs asks, “Why? You plan on using rusty knives?” No tetanus shot.)

We’re all different and we’re all the same. We are designed to be healthy and are designed to heal. We can heal many conditions — if not all — without taking a “sledgehammer” to our bodies, which represents, IMO, the standard of care in “modern” medicine. That said, my not-primary-care-doctor gave me information. So did that x-ray. My husband’s PCP got him information on his condition. We appreciated it — very much — but we took it from there. We took the time to find our “feathers” and chose them. And that has made all the difference.

Blessings, everyone.

1. My only piece of “medical advice” here is that everyone really should have a box of Epsom salt on hand for all sorts of things, including the thing that many opioids are known to cause…I’ll leave it that.

2. http://www.ajnr.org/content/36/4/811/tab-figures-data