Wednesday, February 29, 2012

A Third Opinion

Happy Birthday to my little boy who is turning the big 2-0. Yes, the teen years are behind us as we enter into the twenties. Will this decade be as 'fascinating' as the wonder years? I wonder....

OK, I will not keep you guessing. We saw the uber-specialist yesterday and life has not been the same. First, his fellow entered the room, asked a few questions, performed a physical and could not get the MRI report to open on the computer. After a few minutes, the big time doc enters the room with his other fellow and he began a series of tests. He could not open the report either, then I pulled out my laptop, which I strangely had with me, and his jaw dropped.

He began with disagreeing with the first report. Ok, we already knew this. I was waiting to be impressed. Suddenly he sees a "tear" on the MRI that no one else saw. Mind you, four other doctors looked at the actual MRI. "OK, here is what I think...." He proceeded to tell him that he had a tear and that his rotator cuff was hanging on by a thread and he was about to tear completely. By the way, you will be out of baseball for at least a year....and will probably never pitch again. As the big kid broke down into tears, my heart broke for him. Then the doctor said to him "You would never have made the majors anyway."

Huh? What? From an x-ray, he can predict the future? He did not even know my son. The news was devastating, but as he told Buddy that he would not make the majors, Buddy did something pretty impressive although I should not smile at this one....he "F'ed" the doc off. That's my boy. tell 'em kiddo....what the %^#** does this guy know? Less than 1% of little leaguers make it to division 1 baseball. Gotcha....less than 1% of d-1 players make it to the big leagues...gotcha. What makes this pompous doo-doo think that my kid is not going to make it? Huh? I don't one knows, but you don't deliver a blow like that to a kid looking for answers.

It was not a pretty sight and I was peeved. The guy's bedside manner was deplorable. He could probably tell a five year old that she has an hour to live without blinking an eye. His reply was that we came to him for the truth and sometimes it hurts. But, if we want another opinion, there is a guy in Florida who is the best in the world. He is also his personal friend and can call him on his cell phone to get Buddy an appointment. Do we want another opinion with this guy?

What do you think? Of course we do. So, once I got home, I looked him up online and discovered that his credentials were pretty $^(@^^ good. Impressive....then I read an article that the Yankees paid him $200 million for ten years NOT to operate on any major league player besides a Yankee. Hmmmm....that's one else but a Yankee.....he's that good. Amazing...

True to his word, uber-doc called this mega-doc who called me from his cell phone and told me to keep his number in case I needed anything. Yep, that's, lil ole BPM has this big time doc's cell phone number. Yep, I kept it and added it to my contacts. Anyone want it? I'll give it away for a price...perhaps one or two million will suffice.

We leave on Sunday for a Monday morning appointment. Then if the mega-doc feels that he needs the surgery, he will have it on Tuesday in Florida. Yep, me and the's crazy. I'm crazy. Buddy's crazy. Dad is crazy. We're all nuts, but what else is a parent supposed to do?

I already made the air plane reservations and looked online at the remaining seats on the aircraft. Postoperatively, Buddy would have to sit in the middle on the way home. This would be way uncomfortable since his arm will be in an immobilizer. So, I asked the ticket agent for a bulkhead seat for him. She replied that they are reserved for people in wheelchairs or who are sick. After arguing a few minutes that he would need the room, she asked if his arm would be 'fused"...The answer is yes and no....technically, it will not be fused but he cannot move it so yes, it is fused. Not good enough, so I was transferred to a manager who gave us both bulkhead seats. She did mention that if anyone in a wheelchair or who had a service dog needed the seat, I would have to move. I agreed to this request and will be looking for anyone with a fierce looking dog who may have a fused limb or two and in dire need of a bulkhead seat.

And so, that is where we stand today. With plane tickets ready to take off for Florida. Buddy has emerged from his room and cracked a few smiles. He wrote a letter to the uber doc that he is not going to send for a few years. In the letter, he writes about what happened today in the office, how he made it to the majors, and his plans to send him a signed jersey to remember the day when he almost crushed a guy's dreams. These are definitely Merlot-moments.

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