Or: The Second One About Chronic Nerve Pain.
(and the unending quest to find out why)

I've spent the past three weeks going to doctors and talking to people about my neck. And my arm.

This has raised some dread in me. The idea of having to end up back in consistently scheduled, managed care freaks me out. Physical therapy, two or three times a week. Monthly follow ups. Monthly x-rays. More MRI's. Trips to the pharmacy. Scheduled operations.

When you engage in medical care like that, it becomes a part time job. You have to take notes. You have to exercise and monitor weight, diet, everything. Constantly. It has to become a process. And it becomes draining.

My last visit ended with more questions, unanswered. It's not 4 things. There's no "anatomical reason" for my pain. So now we have to check the wiring. :electricity emoji:

It could be worse. It could be much worse. I don't mean in that 'oh, so and so has it worse' or 'starving children in [insert country name here]' that was paraded in front of me as a child when I complained. I mean one of the 4 possibilities that's been ruled out so far was a tumor, which may have been taking shape *in* my spinal chord. Not a pleasant or hopeful thought, generally.

But somehow the mystery is just as bad for me.

Like dogs trying to understand the internet, I'm sometimes left feeling like with some kinds of medicine, we're still asking more questions than we're answering. My view on the subject is admittedly shallow- I've been a recipient of a few particular kinds of medical care- but some of medicine still seems incredibly archaic.

 

Anyway. Work continues apace. I've set off some surveys and have all of the answers I'm going to get for now. I'll be printing some shirts in the next few weeks, along with some screens and prints. I started 12 paintings last weekend. Things are moving.