1. Went to my OB office for my 32 week appointment and the doctor told me that she wanted me to be referred to a specialist because they don't feel comfortable treating dislocated ribs since that's not their area of expertise (even though it was caused by pregnancy). Basically, it's like "Miz Scarlett, I don't know nothing about birthing babies!" but substitute "fixing ribs" for babies.
|I pretty much had the same facial expression as Scarlett|
2. Since my OB isn't going to treat my rib issues, that means she wouldn't give me any more painkillers and I have to wait to see the specialist. This almost happened, but I composed myself in time.
3. I asked my OB to give me her opinion on the potential for success in fixing my rib while I'm still pregnant and she said pretty bluntly: "You can try, but with all that relaxin in your system I would be surprised if it stayed put more than a few days, even on full rest."
|Really? So I'm fucked no matter what I do?|
4. On that cheerful note, I gathered up Faith and all of her paraphernalia and headed out into the pouring rain to go to my PT appointment to get "fixed"...again. I asked the PT if it was worth the pain to try and put the ribs back since they probably wouldn't stay put and she just said "Maybe!" like I asked her if she wanted a fucking salad for lunch.
5. Despite the PT's upbeat attitude about her potential for success, while she was pushing things back in place (all this time Faith is slowly and surely destroying the room with a giant exercise ball), she tells me "So, don't run again until the rib pain comes back. That way we'll know for sure it would have happened anyway."
My takeaway is that I can't do something that makes me happy until the pain that makes me unhappy comes back...which sounds like it inevitably will. At least if my OB is right, it should only be a few days until my ribs dislocate again so I'll be back painfully running in no time.
Oh, but this story gets EVEN BETTER.
The orthopedic doctor wanted to see me as soon as possible, so I went this afternoon (yes, that's 3 appointments with a toddler in tow, of which only 2 were previously scheduled). After an extremely painful examination and evaluation of my previously taken X-rays, he was able to figure out my issue.
MY RIBS ARE NOT FUCKING DISLOCATED.
Nope, it's a moderate to severe intercostal muscle strain.
The physical therapist has actually made it WORSE with the shit she was doing and when my doctors told me I could do any physical activity within my tolerance for pain, they were prolonging the recovery.
Here's the good news: I don't have to go back to PT torture sessions and this injury will heal with rest and time (we're talking weeks, not months) and isn't likely to recur.
The bad news: I'm not allowed to do any activity that involves exertion for at least a week. Deep breathing is just further inflaming the muscle strain and since I'm not allowed to take anti-inflammatory medicines, rest is my only weapon here. This means no running and only easy walking. Also, he refused to give me any painkillers because "I don't prescribe medicine to pregnant women, that's an OB's job". Now I have to call my OB tomorrow and beg for something before I leave for the beach.
He suggested resting until I get back from the beach and then I'll have a good idea of how much better I feel with rest. As I feel better, then I can ease back into activity carefully. He said that I'm not benched from running the rest of pregnancy, but I need to take this time to heal otherwise I'll be in pain the rest of pregnancy.
I'm really, really pissed that I agreed to reschedule my PT appointment to be this morning because if I had kept it as is (tomorrow) then I would have canceled it and I wouldn't be in this much pain right now from her attempt to adjust my ribs. Since time travel still isn't a real thing, I guess I'm stuck with this pain level and I should chalk this all up to experience and learn to always, always go to an orthopedic doctor for any muscle/ligament/bone issue in the future.
In case anyone was wondering, going to 3 medical appointments in one day with a toddler is not for the faint of heart. In the first appointment, she was still enthusiastic about things, especially getting to play on my Kindle.
|Mommy, this is the coolest thing ever!|
But by the end of the third appointment, this was her mood:
|I hate people almost as much as Mommy|
Have doctors ever been wrong about a diagnosis for you before?