I saw the physical therapist yesterday about the back muscle spasms that sent me to the er last weekend. She is a miracle worker as far as I'm concerned. She diagnosed the problem and then connnected me up to some electrodes that sent impulses into the the muscle and effectively relaxed the damn thing. She then gave me some mild stretching exercises to do. I feel a lot better today than I have for a few days, and I have Chris to thank for it.
I also had an appointment with my neurologist yesterday. This was a regularly scheduled checkup for PD. What I like about this doc is that he will spend as much time with you as you want or need. I never feel like I'm being pushed out the door without having all my questions answered. He addresses all my concerns and is very reassuring that I am doing fine and will probably outlive Moses. He did give me some samples of new meds to try to counteract what he feels is a mild depression or anxiety I have. I'll give them a try, even though I don't feel paricularly depressed or anxious. But I guess the patient is the last one to know. He says he can see the signs of depression in the way I walk and talk and generally present myself. And all this time I thought I was just having some physical difficulties.
So I open the package of pills and dutifully start to read the drug description and adviseries that come with all meds. This particular sheet was one of the more daunting examples of drug literature I have seen. The sheet was fully 18" long printed on both sides in that miniscule print drug companies are so fond of. It took me at least a half hour to wade through that labyrinth of medical jargon and rhetoric and I'm still not sure what it said. But the impression I got was that the drug in question would either cure me or kill me. I would either treat my symptoms or give them to me. The drug would alleviate thoughts of suicide or make me want to commit suicide. It would help me to relax and sleep better or keep me on edge and sleepless as long as I take the stuff. And, oh yea, don't take too many at once because the overdose will probably kill you. I am so much more confident in the drug now that I understand what it can do for me, or to me. For some odd reason I think I might be better off taking my chances without taking the drug.
I'm sure I'm not the only one to ever have the thought, "what am I getting into?" Or, "do I really need this?" I guess we are all so indoctrinated into thinking that doctors always know what is best for us without question, that we blindly do as they say and take what they give us. Then again, I am concerned that if I don't take certain meds, my condition will worsen and I won't be able to regain the lost ground. It just comes down to a question of "who do you trust?" Yourself or the doctor?