What's up, Doc?

That's the question Bunny and I'd been asking for over a month. And we'd got plenty of answers. Unfortunately none of them was any help. On the contrary. Five weeks ago (as described a couple of columns earlier) Bunny discovered a twinge in the back of her left leg. Pulled hamstring from too much yoga, she self-diagnosed. But when the twinge persisted we went to a specialist.The specialist called for an X-ray and an MRI scan. Sciatica, he pronounced studying the reports. Bunny said something about couldn't it just be a pulled hamstring? The specialist ignored this irrelevant and irritating background noise. He prescribed steroids for the sciatica, mooted the possibility of spinal surgery.
Alarmed, Bunny and I consulted Specialist 2. Specia-list 2 also looked at the X-ray and MRI. He confirmed scia-tica but ruled out surgery. He prescribed rest. By this time the twinge had become a constant ache. We went to Specialist 3. Who studied the X-ray and MRI and concluded that both these did indeed have sciatica. He prescribed painkillers and physiotherapy. Three weeks of physiotherapy and the ache had become a scream of agony. Family and friends rallied round. Try homeopathy. Try acupuncture. Try Reiki. By now Bunny was willing to try anything, including leprechauns and tooth fairies. Homeopathy wasn't much help. So back to Specialist 3. Who, at Bunny's insistence, finally looked at her leg instead of at the X-ray and MRI. Well, well, what do you know, said the specialist. Surprise, surprise. It's not sciatica at all. It's just a pulled hamstring. But that's what I said to begin with, said
Bunny. But no one paid any attention. She was just the patient, wasn't she? And what do they know, poor things. If they knew anything, they wouldn't be patients, would they?
The specialist prescribed stronger pain killers. Bunny began to wonder if she'd become an analgesic junkie. Then some friends gave us the name of a doctor, a family GP. Dr Sharma turned out to be an avuncular man, with kindly eyes and a reassuring presence. He cast aside the X-ray and MRI. I want to look at you, not at those, he said. He confirmed the pulled hamstring, told Bunny to throw away the pharmacy of medication she was carrying with her, and prescribed a simple muscle relaxant. Within 24 hours, Bunny felt better. A week later she's near normal.
Moral of the story? Think of the complexity of the human anatomy. We have more than 650 muscles, 206 bones (from the 20-inch femur to the 0.1 inch stirrup bone in the ear), miles of blood vessels and 50 trillion cells. That's quite an inventory with which to follow Murphy's Law: If something can go wrong, it will. It's amazing how we don't malfunction more frequently than we do. As one specialist we consulted put it, our bodies are a 'Pandora's box' waiting to release pent-up ills. And when Pandora's box is opened, we have modern medical science to complicate matters further. Most doctors are well-meaning folk, with a true vocation. Unfortunately, specialisation — necessitated by the labyrinthine complexity of our bodies — has resulted in such a focusing of vision, that sometimes it focuses the patient — the actual sufferer — out of the picture altogether. Which is what had happened in Bunny's case, and happens — with the best of intentions — in uncounted thousands of other cases all the time.
So the next time you get a headache or black spots floating in front of your eyes don't immediately ask the question: What's up, Doc? Like Bunny and me, you might get all too many answers. Apply common sense, and ask your own body — which knows best — what the problem is. You just might prove more accurate than a specialist who can't see you for your lab results. Headache? Black spots? For instant relief, just stop reading this column.