The doctor isn’t in

My day began bright and early at 0320 when I woke up howling in pain from making a wrong move in my sleep. I didn’t sleep much after that and basically rolled around in agony for five more hours.

Gunny called at 0800 bantering something about needing an escort for new cabinet installation in the detachment office, so I cowboyed up and concentrated on the task at hand: getting dressed. Everything was going fine until I reached up with both arms to straighten my collar and my back started doing the funky chicken. It immediately clinched up and I dropped, writhing, to my knees. I couldn’t breathe, move, or do much of anything so I just laid there and waited for feeling to return to my chest and legs. Once I could feel limbs again, I clawed my way to my rack, curled up in a ball, and tried my damnedest to reduce the pressure on my spine. It worked, somewhat, and I was hobbling to the vehicle and on my way to the embassy in under 20 minutes.

Time in the embassy waiting for my 1100 appointment was no better. I stooped. I stumbled. I staggered. I tried to hold my head up high despite my disfigured appearance, but all I could muster was a bird walk with my chest stuck out and nose in the air. I hurt that bad.

An eternity later, I found myself explaining to our embassy doctor about my loss of feeling in starboard extremities, slight nausea, and collapsing leg syndrome. I’ll give credit where credit is due because she seemed genuinely concerned with my cries of help and personally called three neurologists with my emergency status. It was futile. No one was available to see me within 48 hours and even my very own chiropractor wasn’t in on Mondays. I resigned myself to another pain filled duty from 2200 to 0600 when she whipped out a box of medication with four magic pills. Deemed “anti-inflammatory”, the medication was supposed to relax the muscle and reduce the pressure on my seemingly damaged spinal disc. I was hoping for something a bit harder like morphine or even heroin, but no such luck. I popped a pill with strict instructions to go home, lie down with my feet propped up, and take it easy.

Seven hours later I returned to the house. The doctor caught me eating lunch at the embassy, about an hour after my appointment, and publicly chewed my ass. She repeated her orders to Gunny for me to go immediately home. He looked at her with half closed eyes and said “Noted,” cool as a cucumber. Just like that. That guy is one hip cat. How can you possibly explain mission accomplishment to civilians? The way I looked at it I was going to be in pain if I was at home or the embassy, so why not stay at the embassy and get some damn work done for the command visit? I didn’t know.

And here I sit now, with another full day of hobbling around ahead of me beginning bright and early at 0800. Gunny took my mids shift tonight not because he’s nice, but to minimize the paperwork if I were to collapse on my roves and discharge my weapon. He’s a good guy.

More tomorrow of the saga that is my failing health. Stay tuned!