The Broken Soldier

New info. My convalescence is indefinite - in a good way. I’m having medical appointments here, in Michigan, and there’s talk of Community Based Health - which allows continued care in one’s community until such a time that one is ready for final medical/physical evaluation boards. If I were Nana Rope, my Nana-in-law, I’d probably say some-it like, “Smashing!”

I’m with my family. I’ve been able to rest. I’ve been able to hang with good friends - our revelry limited by my condition (of course), but some fun is better than none-at-all. I’ve grown out my goatee, and have shaved my head in a Liddell-style mohawk (at least until I’m off of leave and on WTB Community Based Health, wink wink). I’m playing all the new games on all our new platforms. Aside from a few turds in my punchbowl, those in addition to the regular floaters, things are good.

Now the bad news. According to the neurosurgeon with whom I had an appointment yesterday, I should never have had a spinal cord stimulator implant. “Other options,” of which I was not aware there were ‘other options,’ are available, and ’should,’ according to this doc, been exhausted. “I wouldn’t put a stimulator in a 34 year old man.” More, apparently, can be attempted, and should have been before the ‘last resort’ was considered, let alone implemented/implanted.

The doc said he would not replace the malfunctioning device. Period. Full stop. I have an appointment with him in three weeks, during which time he’ll review the medical evidence and make a decision. A decision that may mean starting my treatment from the beginning. I’m not happy about this. But if there’s a chance, even a remote chance, that I may get some of my life back, I’m willing to try.