Showing posts with label feet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label feet. Show all posts

Friday, January 17, 2020

Footing the bill

Yesterday it was my gums. Today it's my feet. I'm falling apart from head to toe.

And because I feel I don't share enough personal information, the kind you really don't want to know, the kind you'd subtly back away from someone if they were telling it to you at a party, I'm going to share some now.

So the thing is for years, I've had neuropathy in my feet. It means they feel slightly numb a lot of the time, and cold as well although not to the touch. No you can't touch them. The easiest way to explain it is to think of it like the plastic covering on copper wire. It starts to fray a bit and reduces the ability to conduct impulses.

Impulse control has always been a problem of mine.

There are a lot of vitamins that claim to restore nerve function, and I'm taking them all. I also get acupuncture for it, which helps by taking the focus away from my feet and putting it on the needles being stuck in me. I have a sneaking suspicion my acupuncturist was a voodoo doll maker in a former life. Maybe in his current one.

Recently I found out about a neuropathy treatment called Neurogenx. It's an FDA-approved treatment which sends electrical impulses through pads attached to my feet and legs to the nerves, and is supposed to eventually restore a significant portion of their conductivity.

Every session, and there are three a week for eight weeks, they hook up pads to my feet and legs and run electricity through them for 40 minutes while I tell Alexa which Springsteen songs I want to listen to (for those of you keeping score, the correct answer is all of them). Right now I'm on treatment six, so we'll see where it goes. Even if it knocks the neuropathy back 20% it'll have been worth it.

And speaking of worth it, of course this revolutionary, neuropathy-curin', patient-pleasin', feeling restorin', FDA-approved treatment isn't covered by insurance—it's all out-of-pocket.

I charge the treatment, the treatment charges me. It's the circle of life.

I'll keep you updated on my progress. I'm keeping my expectations low and my hopes high. After all, I can't keep rescheduling that Riverdance audition forever.

Wednesday, November 21, 2018

Something is afoot

If you know anything about me, you know when it comes to doctors I like to go to the top guy or gal. In fact I'm the person always being asked for recommendations by friends and family.

Note to self: write memo on finder's commission.

Anyway, I have a support system—I’d say life support system but that might give you the wrong idea—of medical professionals that are tops in their fields, and there when and if I need them.

One of them happens to be my podiatrist, Doug Richie. He's seen me through all my foot woes: plantar fasciitis, broken toes, stepping on glass, orthotics, sprained ankles, in-grown toenail, neuropathy. As far as I'm concerned, he's the top guy in podiatry.

And the fact he has a picture in his office with Jerry Seinfeld in no way influences that opinion. “What is it with the little toe? Exactly what is his job?”

Sadly for me and my tootsies, while on his website today I found out he’s retiring at the end of the year. After practicing 37 years (slacker), he’s handing (footing) the practice over to his two associates, who I’m sure are just fine or they wouldn’t be working with him.

But it won't be the same.

I have a relationship with Doug that’s developed over the years. I trust him completely. We have mutual friends, and we actually live in the same neighborhood. In fact occasionally I see him jogging down our street, and I always think the same thing: I hope he’s wearing the proper running shoes.

And speaking of running shoes, Doug holds patents—5 but who's counting—on footwear and ankle braces he's designed and invented. How many patents does your podiatrist have?

I thought so.

So Doug, thank you for everything. I always looked forward to seeing you, and I never minded footing the bill (I know, sorry). Regardless of the circumstances (although I'm not gonna lie: the cortisone shots for the plantar fasciitis weren't my favorite part), I always knew my feet were in good hands. I know you'll still be extremely active, and I wish you nothing but the best in your new season.

When you run past our house, be sure and wave.