Dr. Prognosticator

My back has been bothering me ever since I was pregnant with Owen, so we’re closing in on close to five years now. When Owen was just a few months old I went to my Dr to find out what I could do about my back problems, since it was frequently sore and occasionally would spasm on me. She just said it was part of being a mother and that I should take ibuprofen for the pain. I was rather underwhelmed by the advice and quickly switched practices but didn’t complain again about my back until I threw it out two days before Thanksgiving last year. My back had been real sore for a few days, it felt as though I had been painting ceilings nonstop when I hadn’t so I just tried taking advil throughout the day. Then one morning hanging out in the living room with the kids I reached over from the chair I was sitting in to pull Oona up into my lap when it felt like I just got hit in the spine with a knife, I don’t know how I didn’t drop Oona. I had to call my doctor then because it hurt so bad I was in tears and I couldn’t get out of a crouching position without it hurting. I think part of the reason I started crying was that I was home alone with my children and couldn’t reach my husband, Toby, on his cell so I was panicking wondering how I’d manage to get Owen to school and then get to the doctor’s and praying all the while that Oona didn’t get into trouble somewhere where I would be unable to pull her away and redirect her. My doctor called me back and told me to go to the ER because he thought they might want to X-ray it to check if it was a disc problem or a compression fracture and he figured that would be quicker than me going to his office and then needing to go to the hospital for tests. So Toby came back from work and took care Owen & Oona while my sister in law drove me to the hospital. It was empty, thankfully, so we were seen within 15 minutes. I had a resident come in to talk with me first, West Penn being a teaching hospital that’s how it always is. She was a tall, pregnant woman and incredibly rude to me. I started by telling her that I’ve had back pain for a few years now and she interrupted snapping at me, ‘and you only decide to come in NOW?!’ I replied, ‘If you’ll just give me a chance to explain’ and told her the rest of my story while she stood there, white jacketed arms crossed and clogged foot tapping. She had me move a couple ways and asked if it hurt then left the room. A few minutes later a doctor doctor, as opposed to a resident doctor, walked in and smiled ‘sounds like you’ve pulled a muscle.’ He also asks me to tell him what happened and put me through a couple more motions to try and see what’s wrong. ‘Yeah, I can see the muscle that’s spasming on your right side.’ ‘Well you’re back isn’t broken’ he says and then starts rattling off medicine to a male nurse that just appeared saying ‘we’ll give you a muscle relaxant and you should take some ibuprofen now for the pain.’ I asked whether I should wait on the ibuprofen since I had taken Advil an hour and a half ago. ‘What? Could you see in the future and know that this was going to happen?’ ‘No’ I replied, ‘I just told you before that my back has been sore for a few days now and that I’d been taking Advil for it.’
I asked him what I should do because I was leaving for my in-laws the next day and it’s a 3 hour car ride. ‘I’m not a prognosticator. I can’t tell you how you’re going to feel tomorrow.’ was his answer. Whenever I asked him, what I thought were reasonable questions about my injury; what should I do since I’m a stay at home mother to two? How long will this take to get better? When should I call a doctor if my back doesn’t improve? he would say variations of the same theme ‘I can’t look into the future.’ or ‘I’m not a fortune teller.’ or, apparently his big word of the day ‘I’m not a prognosticator.’ By the time I left I was near tears again but held back on crying until I was back home and then I told Toby what happened between sniffles. ‘Am I insane to think a doctor should tell me what I should and shouldn’t do having this injury?’ Toby called the hospital right away and within a half hour the head doctor of the ER called and spoke to Toby about my injury, giving us a lot more information about what I was supposed to do. I just don’t get why they were so rude to me. It’s not like I wanted to go to the ER, my doctor told me to go there and it’s not like I was hitting them up for painkillers or being pushy about demanding treatment. I think it’s reasonable to want to know if I should be lifting a 24 pound baby while dealing with this back injury and what about groceries? laundry? vacuuming? The myriad mundane tasks that Moms do every day that strain their backs. And it’s not like he can blame his rudeness on being slammed with patients, the place was empty. The poor treatment made me want to scream out ‘I’m a fucking human being! Don’t be dismissive and condescending just because you feel I have some sort of small fry injury.’ I got more sympathy from the woman who took my insurance and has thrown her back out before.