Doctor, Unite Us!

I've a soft commitment to myself to post on this blog every other day. That's probably a bit ambitious especially as I see how the posts are trending. (You can check out a little analysis run against my posts in this 'short' posted here. I didn't dig into how that readability algorithm is structured. Typically, these metrics get normalized to years within the American education system. And I doubt you would've needed to attend thru grade 60 to read Falling Ceilings.)

Over the next two weeks, I've as many surgeries. Both are 'routine' procedures. Not sure what it means for a surgery to be routine. The risk of surgery is highly underestimated (and the benefits highly overestimated) by patients. This is a well-documented phenomenon and you should spend some time on the internet looking up risks and outcomes of any surgery you decide to go under. Contrary to the insane displays we witnessed during COVID to the purported heroism of physicians and nurses, doctors and nurses are not terribly good people. They are just people. And not very bright in the aggregate.

To be fair, one of the most honest businessmen I ever met was a physician. I had a grisly knee injury pretending I was on the US Hockey Team playing against some central Europeans at their favorite sport. I was carried off the ice and my knee wouldn't fit into pants for a while. I ignored it completely.

Years later when I returned to the States, my knee started clicking with every step I took. And it still felt a little wobbly, so I figured I would get a doc to look at it. I chose three.

The first guy was a lunatic. He was the orthopedic surgeon to the local NFL team. Everyone recommended him.  All his staff were wearing NFL referee uniforms. Everyone wore headsets to communicate with one another, again like an NFL referee. When the doc barged into my exam room, he slapped some images on the light panels and barked:

"So when are we going to get in there and fix you up!?!"
"So I need surgery?"
"Well you are here right? Let's get you back on the ice!"
"I played hockey once."
"OK, let's get you back to everything you used to do."
"I used to be an alcoholic and drug addict."

This back-and-forth petered out as I clearly wasn't under his spell. My enthusiasm for his enthusiasm just embarrassed all of us in the room. And that's a tall order when you are in a room with nurses dressed liked this:

Oh and the doctor? He was wearing the jersey of the local quarterback.

I did learn I had torn my MCL.

The next doc cut a more typical figure. He was Jewish. Doctor Johnny Unitas decidedly wasn't. So no goyische kopf nonsense here. (Yes, we are all racists if racist means we notice things as obvious as race and make connections based on those noticings and thus decisions based on that knowledge.) He walked me through the images that Dr. Unitas merely slapped. We discussed the merits of using an cadaver donor versus an autograft. The sorta doctor visit you'd image. He didn't spike a football after our conversation, but I felt a little more confident about getting my MCL repaired.

One more doc to go. I had to drive out to the suburbs. One of the dying ones. First strike against this doc. The 'office' was in a decaying mall. Second strike. The 'office' was pretty much just a large room full of physio tools and mirrors. My doctor was just sitting in the middle of the room on a large yoga ball waiting for me. He was black. Third strike. (Get over it.)

But I wasn't wearing my baseball umpire uniform to this visit, so I had no authority to toss him out of the batter's box. 

He greeted me and took me back to his office. He went over my images. Most of his analysis matched that of the Jewish Doc. Dr. Unitas never really explained much to me. When I asked about the prognosis, he said he thought it wasn't great. He showed me a study done in the UK to determine the surgical outcomes for MCL repairs. It was a single-blind study. Half the patients who went under surgery, basically just got a skin prick. No surgery was performed. The other half had the surgery. The short-term and long-term differences between the two groups were about the same relative to the surgery. 

What did make a difference was the respective commitment to physiotherapy and willingness to lose weight when appropriate. 

Color me shocked. Here is a man whose trade is to build a yacht for himself and one for every one of his grandchildren by performing marginally beneficial surgeries on people and he is talking me out of it. This is the sort of man I can trust. He also noted that since the injury wasn't limiting me much and I'd done nothing for it yet, that delaying the surgery would mean if I were to need it in the future, I could benefit from the any advancements in the interim. Brilliant!

He gave me a copy of the study and suggested I read thru it. He thought I seemed bright enough to make sense of it. He said to let him know if I wanted to him to set up a physio routine for me. He also suggested I lose about 25 pounds. I wasn't fat. Quite the opposite. But I was carrying a lot of muscle. He suggested I get down to 188 and see how I felt. 

I decided to give the physio and weight loss a go. It worked pretty damn well. I still have my damaged MCL. And my knee still clicks. 

So what was the point to all of this? There are more than a few, but most will have to wait for subsequent posts. 

I will likely not be posting as often in the next few weeks. Two Tuesdays, Two surgeries. And I may not be able to keep up this cadence given the length I am churning out in a sitting. I hadn't expected to write the anecdote above when I started tonight. (Sorry!) But I am enjoying it. And my wife is my biggest fan. (I have one fan.)

If you do read this, pray for me. I'm a little nervous going into these surgeries. I had some complications the last time I was put under (another post). And there are always risks! In fact, they are routine.