I wouldn't normally do this, but, I'll do it, this time, because the Emperor Darth Misha I
saw fit to bring (some rather unwanted) attention to my situation
. So, for all of you migrating over from the Rott and other destinations, I'll recap what my little situation is.
I moved to Texas on June 3rd, and immediately found a place to live and a job. (within 48 hours of arriving) I interviewed for my job, at a local garbage collection company, on Thursday, and started on Monday.
All was going swimmingly, except for one teeny-tiny little problem.
On the Sunday before I was to start, my little finger on my left hand went numb. Not a little numb, but, dead-to-all-sensation numb. "No biggie" I thought. It will go away. Besides, I'm a big, tough garbage man. (YOU! Stop snickering!) I'll just tough it out.
Well, for the first couple of days on the job, it was uncomforable, but, not unbearable. By Wednesday, though, half of my ring finger was numb, as well, and I had almost no strength remaining in my left hand. "No biggie", I thought. It will go away. Besides, I'm a big, tough garbage man. (stop it....I mean it!)
The next week, my hand was even weaker, and still no feeling in my little finger, and half of my ring finger. I was informed that this probably meant I had a pinched nerve. "No biggie" I thought. It will unpinch, and I'll get the use of my hand back. Besides, I'm a big, tough garbage man. (I'm serious, here...stop giggling!)
After two weeks of this crap, I caved, and went to the doctor. Or, more accurately, a local clinic, where I was attended to by a nurse-practitioner. She told me that these things usually went away by themselves, and to come back in a couple of weeks if it didn't go away on its own. "No biggie" I thought. That's what I was doing anyway. Besides....aw, heck with it. I'm tired of the giggling.
About five weeks later, still no feeling, and I really didn't like looking at my hand, so....I didn't. I went back to the clinic, and the nurse-practitioner told me "Uh...this isn't good. Let's have a doctor look at this." Doc checks me out for...oh....ten seconds? and says "The nerve is damaged. There isn't anything we can do for you. Here are some phone numbers of neurologists. Maybe one of them can help you." So, off I go to the neurologist.
The neurologist looked at my hand, poked around, and said "Yep. You've got a pinched nerve. That's really pinched. Normally, we would expect to see SOME nervous impulses getting through, but, you don't have any. Let's do some tests next week, so the surgeon knows where to cut you." Thanks. I really love surgery. Not.
In addition, the neurologist is of the opinion that the atrophy is WAAAAAAYYYY too far advanced to have been caused by two months of inactivity. You see, there isn't a whole lot of muscle remaining in my left hand. I'm a garbage man, and before that, I delivered doors and windows, and before that, I delivered liquor, and before that, I delivered party goods. I have strong hands. Or, more recently, I have a strong hand on one side, and a sack of bones with a lot of skin hanging off of it on the other side. It's really bad. Really, REALLY bad. Like, I'm worried about how long it is going to take to rebuild the muscle in my bad hand.
Anyway, I get to pay for all these doctor visits and tests and surgery and rehab, all by my lonesome. No insurance, and I pretty much bled my monetary reserves dry with the move. So, I'm going to be going into debt up to my eyeballs...again.
No, I'm not asking for help. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't accept any, even if it was offered. So, keep your checkbooks in your pocket, and do some praying. That will go much farther than any pennies and nickels you send my way.