pain in the...
Last week, a visit to my doctor indicated that I have coccydynia. This is persistent pain in the coccyx, or tailbone. (Gotta love those diagnoses that are simply a redescription of the symptoms...)
For me, it's been going on for quite a few months, causing me difficulty in sitting still for long periods of time, doing situps or any other kind of exercise where I'm on my back, basically doing anything that puts pressure straight down on my tailbone or rolls across it. I've gotten used to sitting crooked in any seat and constantly shifting from one cheek to the other. So, he sent me out to get a series of X-rays and a consult with an orthopedist. At that point, I went online and did bunches of research on what exactly coccydia is and how it's treated, and what the prognosis is. Turns out, it's fairly common, much higher prevalence in women, often of unknown etiology. Treatments include massive doses of anti-inflammatory drugs (I've already found out that my stomach doesn't tolerate that well for more than a few days at a time), smaller doses of drugs for which there is no generic (whee! Long-term use of expensive medication!), steroid injections directly into the coccyx (eeep! I have no fear of needles, but that just sounded icky), and, if all else fails, removal of part or all of the coccyx (I've made it this far with no operations and all my original equipment, and I'd prefer to keep it that way, thanks very much!)
Today, I had the appointment with the orthopedist, who said that I'm structurally normal, no evidence of injury, and said that the way he treats that set of presenting symptoms is with the injections. He also told me that there was a good chance that a single treatment would clear it up, but that it may require a series of injections over a few months, and may require periodic treatments for the rest of my life. OK, I thought, if what it takes is a $25 doctor visit every few months to years, then I can deal with it. So I went into the actual treatment part in a pretty good frame of mind.
That got shattered pretty immediately. So I'm lying on my stomach, rear in the air, and the doctor carefully tells me that he needs to pull my underwear down, and that he's going to have to touch me, and that he doesn't want me to think that he's being inappropriate. No problem I tell him, I've done a fair amount of research, and know what this treatment entails. The next thing I know, with no warning, he pokes me *really* hard in the tailbone and asking "Is *this* where the pain is?" Through clenched teeth I tell him that what he had done *really* hurt, and yes, that's precisely where the worst of the pain is. Now, my teeth weren't all that were clenched, and he pats me on the buttocks (as if he were calming a skittish horse) and tells me "You need to relax, my dear, or the injection isn't going to go where it needs to." Without even giving me time to take a breath and regain conscious control of my pain guarding reflex, he says "Well, OK, I'll just do the injection," and jams the needle in. Lots of pain. Pats my behind again as he removes the needle, and asks me if I have any questions, at which point I begin asking him about exercises that I can do that won't aggravate the condition. Another doctor apparently came into his practice at that point, and his nurse popped in to tell him. He excused himself abruptly, interrupting me in the middle of a sentence. He went out, talked to the other doctor, came back in, shook my hand, said it was nice to meet me, and tried to send me on my way. I asked him again for suggestions about exercises I could do, and he told me to avoid anything that hurt. As if I hadn't been doing that all along... His nurse was actually much more helpful after he left, and told me about a few exercises and some websites I could look at. Makes me wish that there were another doctor I could go to for treatments, but he's the only orthopedist in my PPO network who treats disorders of the spine and back. *sigh*
So right now I've got some kinda weird numbness in the area (the injection also contains a novocaine-esque anaesthetic), a prescription for Celebrex, and hope in my heart that this is all it's going to take to make it go away.
For me, it's been going on for quite a few months, causing me difficulty in sitting still for long periods of time, doing situps or any other kind of exercise where I'm on my back, basically doing anything that puts pressure straight down on my tailbone or rolls across it. I've gotten used to sitting crooked in any seat and constantly shifting from one cheek to the other. So, he sent me out to get a series of X-rays and a consult with an orthopedist. At that point, I went online and did bunches of research on what exactly coccydia is and how it's treated, and what the prognosis is. Turns out, it's fairly common, much higher prevalence in women, often of unknown etiology. Treatments include massive doses of anti-inflammatory drugs (I've already found out that my stomach doesn't tolerate that well for more than a few days at a time), smaller doses of drugs for which there is no generic (whee! Long-term use of expensive medication!), steroid injections directly into the coccyx (eeep! I have no fear of needles, but that just sounded icky), and, if all else fails, removal of part or all of the coccyx (I've made it this far with no operations and all my original equipment, and I'd prefer to keep it that way, thanks very much!)
Today, I had the appointment with the orthopedist, who said that I'm structurally normal, no evidence of injury, and said that the way he treats that set of presenting symptoms is with the injections. He also told me that there was a good chance that a single treatment would clear it up, but that it may require a series of injections over a few months, and may require periodic treatments for the rest of my life. OK, I thought, if what it takes is a $25 doctor visit every few months to years, then I can deal with it. So I went into the actual treatment part in a pretty good frame of mind.
That got shattered pretty immediately. So I'm lying on my stomach, rear in the air, and the doctor carefully tells me that he needs to pull my underwear down, and that he's going to have to touch me, and that he doesn't want me to think that he's being inappropriate. No problem I tell him, I've done a fair amount of research, and know what this treatment entails. The next thing I know, with no warning, he pokes me *really* hard in the tailbone and asking "Is *this* where the pain is?" Through clenched teeth I tell him that what he had done *really* hurt, and yes, that's precisely where the worst of the pain is. Now, my teeth weren't all that were clenched, and he pats me on the buttocks (as if he were calming a skittish horse) and tells me "You need to relax, my dear, or the injection isn't going to go where it needs to." Without even giving me time to take a breath and regain conscious control of my pain guarding reflex, he says "Well, OK, I'll just do the injection," and jams the needle in. Lots of pain. Pats my behind again as he removes the needle, and asks me if I have any questions, at which point I begin asking him about exercises that I can do that won't aggravate the condition. Another doctor apparently came into his practice at that point, and his nurse popped in to tell him. He excused himself abruptly, interrupting me in the middle of a sentence. He went out, talked to the other doctor, came back in, shook my hand, said it was nice to meet me, and tried to send me on my way. I asked him again for suggestions about exercises I could do, and he told me to avoid anything that hurt. As if I hadn't been doing that all along... His nurse was actually much more helpful after he left, and told me about a few exercises and some websites I could look at. Makes me wish that there were another doctor I could go to for treatments, but he's the only orthopedist in my PPO network who treats disorders of the spine and back. *sigh*
So right now I've got some kinda weird numbness in the area (the injection also contains a novocaine-esque anaesthetic), a prescription for Celebrex, and hope in my heart that this is all it's going to take to make it go away.