Another long absence: again, after just over two weeks of almost normal life, the pain was back as bad as at the very beginning and suspended normal life again for another eight days. By last Saturday I had become quite fed up with being confined to bed (no, I didn’t tackle War and Peace, as every day I hoped I would be up again).
When I rang the neurosurgeon I had seen about a month ago, he made this extremely wise and encouraging comment: “Until you lose all the excess weight you carry, there is nothing else to do except bed rest”! Easiest thing in the world, to lose about forty kilos lying in bed. I gave up on him.
Then two friends of mine gave me the addresses of another two neurosurgeons. The first one painted a very serious picture of my condition and opined that the only option open to me now is surgery. He only operates in a modern private hospital; my operation would necessitate possibly two nights’ stay, it would be done microscopically leaving only a 3 cm scar and the whole thing would cost about 50 million rials (about £2,800). Piece of cake.
The second doctor absolutely ruled out the possibility of operation: considering my physical condition it would be too risky. He prescribed different medicines and physiotherapy. I have now had three sessions, with seven more to go, and I must say that thankfully I now feel much better.
Deep down I always mistrust doctors, especially where money is involved; the visit to the first one confirmed my suspicions.
