But, wait… a twist!

Disclaimer: Pictures of large needles may offend some readers.

(If you haven’t read Part 1 and Part 2, you might want to do that first)

And wait I did.

July passed. Then August. September was rolling toward an end. October was next week.

I called the sports medicine clinic every 3 to 4 weeks, asking if they had news.

Each time, I heard the same thing: “No word yet as to when the kit will be available. We’ll call you to schedule an appointment the day it comes in.”

By this time, walking was becoming more difficult. My mindset was suffering – it’s one thing to have a timeline but another completely to be at the mercy of government approvals, not knowing if it will be days, weeks or months before I could advance to the next step in this journey.

After one especially disheartening weekend, wherein two days of 10,000 steps (or about 7 km) of slow, broken-up walking left me limping for the first two days of the week, it’s one comment that the receptionist made that percolated in my mind:

“It’s not available anywhere in Canada right now. Just in the States.”

How fortuitous that I would be visiting my parents in Arizona in a month’s time!

After 90 minutes of exasperated calling and emailing, I found a surgeon in the Phoenix area that administered the test. Luckily, my sports medicine physician in Calgary agreed to the release of my health records for this purpose, and the Arizona doctor was willing to fast-track his process to give me this invasive test on our first meeting if his observations indicated I could have CECS. I was especially fortunate that he had availability less than a month out, with only three days that their office was open during my overlapping trip.

My mom was an emergency room nurse for 25 years so she was excited to observe this test and document it; I  have more photos but I’ll spare my readers the gore

And, so, I travelled to Arizona for the secondary purpose of having my legs prodded with huge needles.

I met the surgeon, discussions were had, both sides learned new things. From his perspective, simply listening to my description of symptoms and feeling my calves after 10 minutes on a treadmill would’ve been enough to diagnose me with the condition; if I were his full-time patient, he would’ve put me on a rigorous three-month physio program, then done surgery on me. However, in Canada, his assessment would be too subjective; the pressure test is, in our opinion, the most objective measure. It took all day and much compromise, but he did the test once all was said and done.

I passed. Or failed. Whichever way you want to look at it, the test confirmed that I have chronic exertional compartment syndrome. My pressure was a 53, with 50-55 reading as very high on the scale.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention Achilles, the surgeon’s dog that visited with everyone. He was a Good Boy of the highest degree.

The results have been faxed to my doctor in Canada, I will see the sports medicine physician on November 7 to ask to be referred to a surgeon, with surgery likely in three to nine months, and in the meantime I will continue physio and fascial stretching to ensure that my issue cannot be resolved outside of surgery.

P.S. Most people have asked whether I had to pay for the test. Yes. Do I hope to get it reimbursed? Some, but not all. Do I think it’s worth it to have fast-tracked myself on the road to surgery instead of standing to the side with 30+ other people, waiting for a bus with no timetable? Yes.

So, now that I have an official diagnosis and feel comfortable talking about this, what questions do you have for me?

I’ll answer them to the best of my ability, or maybe even spin them into a new blog post. I find it helpful to write about my experience to release the thoughts spinning in my head.