In the past, Chila often had common sports injuries which she usually handled on her own, but she realized that the injury was more severe this time. She hurt her shoulders in a netball game and the pain became worse. She thought it would be in her best interest to let her doctor examine her. Prior to this, she had experienced similar muscle strains, but this did not prevent her from lifting her arm high enough to cause extreme pain.
Later in the evening, she went to bed. Closing her eyes she grabbed a pillow from the floor and placed it under her shoulder to alleviate it and not put pressure on it. She had a fitful night's sleep: waking up several times to change positions throughout the night.
She was woken up too early for a weekend as her mom made an appointment with the local GP to see if she did any serious damage to her shoulder. She pushed herself up, using her right arm, and the pain drove across her neck, into her shoulder causing her to grunt. She fell backward onto her back. After several painful attempts, she managed to sit up.
She filled the bathtub with hot water, which she hoped would relieve the pressure. She lit a cigarette, lying in the bathtub until she heard a knock on the bathroom door telling her to leave the bathtub and get dressed. She quickly threw the cigarette into the toilet and flushed out the evidence of smoking.
Brushing her teeth hurt every time she moved the toothbrush in her mouth. Changed hands to give her right arm a break - her left hand didn’t do such a good job but got it done. She got dressed, put on make-up and did her hair. Her mom moaned again for her taking her time and that they would be late for the appointment. Sighing, she walked out the door to the car.
This time, her doctor’s appointment would set her life's path for the future….
Sitting in the waiting area, she did not foresee any major injuries. She had a strained muscle, and that was it. Her mind wandered off in different directions, not related to shoulder injuries.
She sat down and explained to the doctor the problem and the circumstances that caused her injury. She explained her symptoms in a very vague way placing emphasis on the aggravated pain. He asked her to sit on the bed with her legs over the side. The doctor lifts her arm, prodded, and then bent at quite acute angles. A chorus of gasps echoed through the consulting room as she tried not to express the pain in such a manner that other patients would not think this room was actually a torture chamber. She slid off the bed and sat down next to her mother. The doctor explained that there was a problem with her shoulder muscles and referred her to a clinical neurologist with the name of Doctor Reed. He explained that the neurologist will conduct a more in-depth examination to determine whether there is any damage to the nerve or muscle.
“Neurologists treat and manage patient disorders of the nervous system including the central, autonomous and peripheral nervous systems and the tissues, muscles and blood vessels".
The doctor wrote down a reference letter and placed it in an envelope. She was given the envelope to hand to the receptionist who made a phone call to make an appointment with the neurologist. The date and time were written on the envelope arranging an appointment for the following weekend, the day her nightmare started.
THE VERDICT
The morning of the appointment started with a cup of coffee next to her bed. After taking a shower, applied make-up, dressed in a skirt and strap top thinking the test would be conducted on her shoulder alone. She hated removing clothes for an exam if it is not necessary to do so. Her mind was not focused on the exam but more about going out that evening to a club, surrounded by music and dancing.
Grabbing her shoes to leave she assessed my hair in the mirror to ensure her appearance was up to standard. It was important to her to always look good, perfect make-up and hair. She always strived to be noticed where ever she went.
As she entered the doctor’s surgery, her mom walked up to the reception desk to complete the necessary forms and to hand over the doctor’s reference letter. She sat down in a plush dark armchair and picked up a magazine from the table. She didn't have much interest in reading the magazine but paged through it none the less. She looked over at the reception desk while she placed the file with the reference letter attached with a small paperclip in a tray that was visible from where she was sitting. That paperclip had such a big meaning and although the size of that paperclip was so small, it held an enormous purpose during the morning.
She scanned the room around and glanced at some of the people sitting in the waiting room. It had an eerie silence similar to sitting in a church with, no-one saying a word. There where an old lady was sitting opposite her. She looked about 80 years old. Next to her, was her husband, also in his 80’s, as they were sitting very close to each other. She looked up and the woman gave a shy smile, sending some positive energy through the room. The room was a light brownish color with framed doctor’s degrees against the wall. There were a few of the plush dark armchairs and two wooden tables in the middle of the room, stacked with magazines.
About 10 minutes later, the receptionist called her name and led her through the hallway to an elegant wooden door with a shiny brass nameplate, which read “Dr. Reed” The receptionist knocked on the door and opened it, introducing them to Dr. Reed. He was not that bad looking but she could not say the first impression made her feel at ease. He was dressed in a dark blue shirt with a slightly brown/beige color tie. His eyes didn’t reflect friendliness and he seemed stern. Chila and her mom sat down on the two leather armchairs in front of a solid mahogany desk.
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The receptionist handed him the envelope attached to the file with the paperclip. The same framed doctor’s degree was against the wall as well as posters showing the different body parts, especially the bodily muscle functions in detail. She turned her attention back to the doctor as he looked up from reading the file. He removed the reference letter from the paperclip. That small paperclip released her demon that day. He proceeded to ask a few questions as to how she injured my shoulder. Her family doctor also asked her the same questions. She patiently replied to all his questions while he took notes.
She was asked to sit on the bed. Her legs were dangling over the side while he examined her shoulder for a brief moment. Without any questions, he focused on her scapula for a while but not in a way that was alarming or concerning. Turning around he spoke to her mom, telling her that the electromyography (EMG) test was going to be performed. “The results of an EMG can help your doctor determine the underlying cause of these symptoms. Possible causes could include muscle disorders, such as muscular dystrophy disorders that affect the ability of the motor neuron to send electrical signals to the muscle, such as myasthenia gravis”
He walked towards the opposite side of the room and wheeled a table with a brown machine and monitor on it back to the examination table. Beside the monitor was a wire that was attached to sharp acupuncture needles that were covered with white see-through covers. This electro - needles were attached by wires to a recording machine. These were long needles and every needle that was about to be embedded into her skin. “Lift your skirt above your thighs” he asked her. She did not understand why the focus was placed on her legs. She was confused but didn’t ask any questions. He dabbed a piece of material in a bowl and cleaned parts of her legs with the swab. Without warning, he stabbed the first needle, twisting it into her skin. It took every ounce of her self-control not to kick him. Upon seeing the second needle she held her breath awaiting the next stab. Her mind drifted, giving her the feeling of characters in a horror movie getting stabbed, stomped, smacked, punched, or shot, and that hurts. She experienced the same level of pain
She lost count of all the needles going into her legs piercing her skin. After the electrodes were in place, she was told to relax her legs. Her mind was overflowing with emotions. ‘Yeah right - let me stick the needles into your legs and see if you can relax you, idiot. She was instructed to "Tighten her muscles slowly and steadily" She contracted it slightly and it felt like the needle penetrated bone particles and her legs were on fire. There were a printing sound and a printout that was released from the side of the machine showing images of wavy and spiky lines. Again she was instructed to relax her muscles and then contract it again as tight as she could. Every muscle she contracted felt like an iron rod penetrating the muscles and bone. The needles moved up and down with each contraction. Again the electrical activity was recorded and the next printout was released.
The electrodes were moved a number of times to record the activity in different areas of the muscle and in different muscles. She had a really high tolerance for pain but this was different. She could feel the burning sensation, produced that fatal ‘watery glaze’ over her eyes. She had a tear in her eyes ready to be released. She swallowed the knot in her throat and tried to suppress her tears. When she contracted her muscles, there was a slight popping noise like a machine gun. She tried to take her attention away from the fact that her muscles were on fire. She tried to entertain her mind with the video monitor images. After each muscle contraction, there was a 30-second break then another ten pulses. At more than one point her leg shot in the air because the current was so strong. This went on and on in a kind of nightmarish rhythm: fear, pain, relief the pain was over, fear of more pain, then pain again.
This carried on for over 20 minutes while the video monitor spat out the images on print. When the test was done, the electrodes were removed and the areas of her skin, where a needle was inserted, were cleaned with some kind of chemical. The relief she felt seeing each needle being placed back next to the machine and not being inserted into a different part of her body. She felt paralyzed, and irrational, confused, barely thinking at all. Questions reeled through her head. Why didn’t I stop the test? Why didn’t I tell the doctor to turn the f***ing machine off and let me go? An EMG was one of the most sadistic medical tests she has yet experienced. It was like being stabbed with an electric prod where her bones had been electrified. You could imagine that the feeling was similar to connecting a person to an electric fence and then turning on the power.
He made notes on a chart and she sat down for the verdict. She straightened her skirt and slid off the examination tabled. Her legs were on fire even after the needles were removed. The pain persisted and she tried to rub her legs as fast and hard as she could try to find some relief. She sat down again and cursed the doctor for treating her mercilessly without even asking if she was okay.
The words from his lips made no sense to her.
“You have muscular dystrophy and will be in a wheelchair in 5 years’ time.”
Words failed her and the conversation gradually faded into the background of white noise, casting a shadow on her thoughts. Her eyes focused on him, but what he said was meaningless. She was eager to prove that his assessment was wrong, every single bit of it. It was like being half-asleep and half-awake, you are trapped in a limbo state and you don't know what to do. Everything happened too quickly. Feeling her body "struggling to breathe", because these words were moving in her direction with great force, She had to open her lungs just enough to "suck" the air to breathe. She raised her head nervously and reacted to her confusion and anxiety. Her blood pressure had risen and her face had turned red. She struggled to remember if any words escaped her mouth or if it was something she wanted to say. Her reaction was utter disbelief and on the defensive. “You’re kidding me, right? Tell me you kidding, please! “
She understood that there was no easy way to break such bad news, but he should’ve been more sensitive to her state of mind. He could have been gentler breaking the news to her and offer detailed information about the wheelchair thing. “When will I stop being able to walk? Am I going to die? Didn’t he realize what he was telling me in a casual “‘I don’t care' attitude? She was only nineteen. She was young, she was healthy, her whole life was in front of her. “ What was he talking about!!!!!?