Grounded

Give me too much time and I will spend it thinking. I've got a lot of time on my hands now. I can't run, but I can remember running. I can remember specific days, specific routes. I spent the last part of last year increasing my mileage so I could run a half marathon. It led to pain in my right foot and now I'm trying to manage that pain and - more importantly - recover. My mind is circling around those months, those runs. Give me too much time and I will spend it thinking.

In the world of pain management, there are traditionally thought to be three types of pain: neuropathic (the deranged, confused signals sent to the brain by nerves that feels like electricity/numbness/sparks), somatic pain (muscle, bone or deep tissue pain), and visceral pain (such as happens when an internal organ is stretched or injured). I'll get back to this.

Several weeks ago I was driving home from the park, having finished my run. I was listening to the radio. (How many times have I started a story like this?) I had less than an hour to shower, have breakfast, and dress before I was to be in clinic and start seeing patients. I listened to a story about books related to worklife, books not to be missed, like "Revolutionary Road" and "Bartleby, The Scrivener". I was struck by the discussion of Melville's character, Bartleby, and how questions begin to come up in an office when someone says, "I'd prefer not to."

This brings me to now.

Sweet Baby Jesus, I'd prefer not to.

The litany of tasks I'd prefer not to includes; reading reports about histologic derangement of cellular patterns over the phone instead of face-to-face because people doctor shop and have appointments all over the country in one week (not understanding that it may not be the best for their outcomes), dealing with insurers who are literally trying to save a buck, and functioning as a biller/coder.

Dear Healing Jesus with palms outstretched, I'd prefer not to.

Back to my discussion on pain. I don't feel pain this morning, but what I feel is most certainly visceral.

I'd prefer not to.

It's there at every turn. I have become Bartleby. It's part of my makeup. It's visceral.