So I fled the Netherlands to the Motherland in search of a medicine hero willing to save my foot. Much can be said about the US medical system, but I am thankful that capitalism is still alive in my country, placing doctors in a competitive market where the best are highly compensated to make people healthy as quickly as possible. This, compared to the repeated dose of “calm down and be patient, you’ve got nothing to worry about” I received in the Netherlands, was a welcome change.
Turns out I have something to worry about and it’s called Complex Regional Pain Syndrome. Essentially my nervous system went into fight or flight and decided to fight, attempting to fix the foot fracture in isolation, no longer listening to my brain’s ideas (can’t blame it, really). This has not only turned my foot, and eventually leg purple, but also has delayed the healing process. If left untreated, my leg would have gone from purple to bright red, my nails would have fallen off and my foot would be as hairy as a wolverine. Good thing I came to the US.*
To treat the fracture, I have ultra sound treatment and to knock out my nervous system, I have some super duper drugs and the advice to move my foot as much as possible. This should reset my body and prove to it that lightening blasts of nerves are not required for healing to take place.
I lack the equipment and desire to do the hours of cycling and swimming that would be required to get my body functioning properly again, especially when it is easier to sit back and work on my laptop. So I once again embraced American capitalism and decided to pay someone to help me do it. It’s good to be back in a consumer centric world where money can’t me love, but in this case can buy me health, and that’s pretty damn close.
I booked myself in for 8 days of solid physio at a treatment center in the middle of nowhere Utah. My foot and the rest of me received 5:30 AM wake up calls, nonstop work outs in the pool and on stationary bikes with the day ending at 8 PM after wonderful foot massages. I also tried a variety of healing methods including Sound Healing, Accutonics, and Reconnection Therapy. I have no idea if any of it helped, but it was sure interesting trying.
The other people here have checked themselves in to cure a variety of ailments, both psychological and physical. And that’s sad business. You would think healing would be a happy thing, and boy it has been for me, but my small struggle is no comparison to what they’re going through. Here’s a sampling:
Broken Bones: There was only one other woman here to cure broken bones. I am truly sorry, from the bottom of my soul, that she broke her ankle in 4 places. This meant I had to spend most of my time with a Christian Fundamentalist Evangelical something covered in Jesus’ blood and protected from Demons. I relived the entire book of Genesis through her eyes. She was first convinced that everything was true in the Bible when, as a scientist, she discovered that mitochondria, the very building blocks of life, are in the shape of the cross. I just googled it and haven’t been able to find any cross-like mitochondria photos, so perhaps her religious fervor is for naught. Not to mention, crosses were used to kill, so I’m not sure what she was getting at. She also spent an entire morning while we were kick, kick, kicking in the pool telling me why alcohol is a drink of the devil – they’re called Spirits, aren’t they? When you drink them, it opens a channel to the Demons from Hell. She knows, because when her cousins drink, their eyes turn black. I remained silent during her sermons and never revealed my devilish drinking habits. She also told me the story of Adam and Eve and the angels of Lucifer – gorgeous male specimens, who came down from Hell to sleep with all the women in the land. And that’s why God had to send the flood. To get rid of sexually satisfied women and their beautiful children fathered by sexy angels. I spent the rest of that afternoon perplexed as to how Lucifer forgot to send an angel down to me, the Spirit Loving Demon.
I spent so much time in the pool with her that my hair turned to straw and my swimsuit was completely eaten away by chlorine. Unfortunately, still no angels of Lucifer swooped down to take advantage of me in my transparent Speedo.
Fatties: There were some morbidly fat people there who stay for months, and even years at a time. A few of them have already lost hundreds of pounds (with hundreds to go). I found their struggle incredibly inspirational; particularly given that one of the most accepted forms of discrimination is against fat people. I can’t comprehend their condition, but I can tell you that they aren’t lazy. They’ve made the decision to take long breaks from their family and jobs to focus completely on losing weight, excercising and saving their lives. You wonder at how they allowed their bodies to get to that condition, but it’s likely a combination of food addiction and self-hatred.
Crazies: I won’t get into too much detail on my favorite person here - the paranoid schizophrenic. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know her and she made the experience fun. A little discomforting when she repeatedly talked about everybody chasing her all over the country. Problem being I always responded to her stories with, “That’s Crazy!” which doesn’t sound right, especially since it may be the truth. Wish I would have used that response with the Evangelical Christian.
I thoroughly enjoyed the experience but am so glad it is over and I have a new foot that wants to work with me. I’m headed back to Amsterdam next week, and the adventure in Losing It continues. It was a close call this time.
*If you want to read in more detail about my foot (who wouldn’t?) keep going. I can pretty much guarantee that the Dutch Doogie’s of Amsterdam were never going to diagnose me with anything but impatience. When my foot turned purple they said it was poor circulation, be patient. This “be patient” idea resulted in putting me in a cast for 2 months to immobilize my foot which was the worst thing they could have done to someone with my condition or ANYONE with my type of fracture. All you need to do is google the type of fracture I have and it clearly states that never should a cast be used! So not only did the Dutch Medical system do nothing to help me, they hurt me. And I’m very angry, particularly because I’m not sure my foot will ever fully recover. Oh yeah, and I get to pay for all my US medical bills by myself. FURIOUS.
That was cleansing, thanks for reading.
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