Bone Spurs up the Wazoo

5 Columbus Circle

After I saw the musical with the Firecracker, we had this talk.

Her: Do you ever want to start new somewhere, Lo? Like sell this apartment and move someplace completely new.
Me: (thinking) Sometimes. But I can’t because of the kid.
Her: But you’re always running into old ghosts.
Me: I am. But sometimes – most times, really – it’s nice. Visiting my possible pasts.

Almost exactly 11 years ago, I went to an office at 5 Columbus Circle, where I met a doctor and asked him if he was a betting man.

It was my first time in that building.

It wasn’t my last because when I met that doc, he and I weren’t sure if I tore my ACL. During my second visit, he confirmed I did.

Went there a few more times for the ACL and then didn’t go for years.

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That is, until about 2013 – I’d stopped writing the blog then because Alison and I kept losing pregnancies – when I’d gone there with Alison to see another doc for fertility issues.

That was harder than for the ACL.

And then I went there again for another specialist when Alison got sick, a couple of years after that.

Those days were the hardest of my life. Still are.

This time around, the Firecracker was concerned because my fingers have been so messed up – I can barely type some days – that she insisted that I get them checked out.

Didn’t realize where I was going until I arrived.

So, I stood outside for a few minutes, just to regain my composure and went up.

This time, not only was I in the same building again, I was in the same office – but with a different doc.

Long story short, the new doc came out, took one look at my x-rays, and whistled.

Me: So, what’s the prognosis, doc?
Him: Well, you’ve got bone spurs up the wazoo!
Me: (amused) Is that the medical term?
Him: (laughing) Not exactly…but, yeah.

He pulled up a normal looking hand and then my hand and pointed out all the differences.

Him: Now, this is what a normal hand looks like. (switches screens) This is yours. You see that there’s essentially no gap here, here, here, here…actually, just let me show you where there is a gap…
Me: OK, what am I looking at?
Him: Well, those gaps are cartilige. You’re supposed to have them between your joints. And you…don’t. And these things here (pointing at mini-horns on my fingers) these are what bone spurs are. You’ve got them everywhere. Do you know how this all happened?
Me: (sighing) Yeah, I do. A lifetime of poor life choices.

Left the doctor’s office with my head swirling.

He said that there was nuthin to do and it would only get worse as the years went on.

Him: When the pain becomes too much, we can talk about surgery. But until then, just try to wrap it often and take it easy.

What’s promised me is a future of mild-to-worsening pain.

But I suppose that’s better than the alternative.

In any case, I still think that – most times – visiting my possible pasts is a good thing.

Not always, though. Not always.

Location: early today, waking up with a hangover from a night out with the NFL Player
Mood: hard to say
Music: Acting out our old parts, let’s perform our favourite little scene (Spotify)