Today was my appointment with my new pain doctor. I arrived on time. I was given forms to fill out, of course. As I was filling them out the receptionist called me to her work station. It turns out the pain doctor who is new to this practice has yet to be approved as an in-plan doctor by my insurance company.

Why didn’t they tell me this three weeks ago when I made the appointment? I had the option of seeing an in-plan physicians assistant a week ago but insisted on seeing an MD.

So I was given three choices:

(1) Book a new appointment with another in-plan doctor (which would probably have delayed my treatment by another three weeks).

(2) Pay the out-of-plan rate to see my new doctor today. (Hey, what’s $600 between friends, right?) Or,

(3) Make an appointment to see the physicians assistant on Monday of next week.

It was like being on Let’s Make a Deal. I chose Door No. 3. They assured me that the PA was authorized to order cortisone injections.

While I was there I asked them if they kept a copy of my MRI. Nope. So my first order of business was to go home and dig it out of my files.

Ironically, I am not in pain. Somehow, for the last four days or so, the referred pain in my leg went from a 9 on a scale of 10 to a 1.

What’s behind this?

Well, first of all, other than riding my bike and mowing my lawn I hardly do anything but sit. Mowing the lawn doesn’t cause any pain because it involves supported forward leaning, just as riding a bicycle does. I did some housecleaning (bathrooms, vacuuming and such) last Thursday. Since this activity did not involved forward leaning, leg pain increased.

Another possibility is that I have made some modifications to the physical therapy exercises I’ve been doing. I doubt this is having such a big effect though.

My final thought is that I have been riding The Mule consistently for over two weeks. The Mule has easy gears and absorbs road shock well. In contrast, my CrossCheck has aggressive gears. My Bike Friday doesn’t absorb road shock. And my Tour Easy recumbent does not involve leaning forward.

The time is now for me to get this back issue squared away. I want to be able to walk around like a normal person, perhaps even do a day hike now and then.

Watson! The needle!!

You don’t need medicine. Your diet doesn’t matter. Doing yoga isn’t helpful. What you need is a phone. All you have to do is call the doctor and make an appointment and your problem disappears.

This isn’t the first time that making an appointment has coincided with a recovery, but it sure is strange. After three weeks of increasing pain in my left leg, I gave in and made an appointment with a physiatrist, the pain doctor who I hoped would give me cortisone injections in my back. Of course, I had to wait three more weeks to see her.

My leg hasn’t hurt for three days.

It’s a miracle. Hallelujah. Go figure.

Regardless of my current pain situation, my appointment tomorrow is worth keeping to establish a rapport with the doctor who is new to me. It is unlikely that she’ll give me shots if I am asymptomatic. I might try walking to her office which is 3/4 of a mile away. That would probably cause the pain to come back.

On a related note, one of my sisters has been dealing with stenosis for quite some time. Today she had her first shots. “Stood me right up!” she reports. I hope it helps.

Today was our third perfect biking weather day. The weather gods are kind. And my Sunday blahs went away after an unusual eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Lord, I needed that.

There are two theories as to my Sunday malaise. One is Blissful Britt‘s theory that the Five Guys gut bomb I had for dinner Saturday night blew up inside me. The other is John Fisher’s comment that I may have been reacting to the flu shot I had on Saturday, because the dose is higher for people of a certain vintage.

Speaking of vintage, as of mid-August I am now in a higher risk age bracket for Covid-19. Just shoot me.

The Mule and I had nowhere to go so we went to the Mount Vernon Trail to dodge noobs. The trail is packed with people who don’t normally use a bike trail. We took our time managing not to get hit or to hit anybody. To my surprise it wasn’t nearly as crowded as I expected.

I rode all the way to DC when I had to decide where this ride would go. Then it occurred to me that if you don’t know where to go, ride around in circles. I headed to East Potomac Park where Ohio and Buckeye Drives make for a flat 3.3 mile circuit. The road was packed with bikes and other self-powered humans. The lawns along the sides all had picnic-ers and fisherpeople and hammock hangers and such. A few parked cars were blaring music. One van had its rear doors open the better to maximize the boom from a mega boom box.

I stopped a couple of times to pick up stray golf balls from the raggedy course in the middle of the park. I think my summer shag stash is approaching three dozen.

I rode my usual pace and let my mind drift. Every so often I’d ride through a cloud of weed smoke. Too bad I was wearing a mask. I swear I could have had a free buzz if I slowed down.

After 6 laps (20 miles) I headed back home on the trail. After about 44 miles I was starting to flag. I had homemade diner breakfast and it was wearing off.

I could ride the last six miles home in my sleep and nearly did. All told I made it 50 miles.

I could get used to this.

After yesterday’s splendid bike ride, I got a flu shot. For dinner we ate mass quantities of Five Guys food while watching the Nationals game. They won. Miracles do happen.

During the game my left arm ached as if someone had punched it hard. I went to bed only to toss and turn all night as the Five Guys re-arranged my GI tract.

I left the bed and slept on the couch hoping the change of venue would bring relief. No dice.

Now it’s past midmorning. The weather is perfect once more and I feel like I have a hangover. No energy. Slight headache. It’s the first time I’ve felt remotely ill since last winter.

Of course, I could have Covid. Ayyyyyyy!

Unlikely.

So I’ll sit on the deck and drink fluids while reading The Martian (very entertaining). At 1 I’ll go inside and watch the ballgame. I’m hoping by 4 I’ll feel up to a bike ride. I’d hate to waste this weather.

The heat and humidity left town last night. The gross DC summer has ended. (I hope.) It was time to open the windows and breathe.

After reading the paper, I climbed aboard The Mule and headed northwest. I took the inland route to Georgetown. This uses city streets and lightly used trails and bike lanes to avoid the Mount Vernon Trail. On perfect weather days, the MVT is jammed with people. For some reason the authorities did not inform them that the trail is MINE!!!!!

To be honest, the inland route is a bit hilly in spots but it has its charms. I picked up another free golf ball near Belle Haven Country Club for a start. Then there’s the scenic majesty of the loading docks of the buildings in Crystal City. And let’s not forget the glorious vistas of the massive Pentagon North Parking lot. You can tell we are not at war because the lot was empty on a Saturday.

Well, I made it past all of them and around the north side of Arlington Cemetery. White crosses in row after row after row. Next it’s up the hill past the Netherlands Carillon (which is surrounded by scaffolding these days) and onto Lynn Street through beautiful downtown Rosslyn. (Sarcasm alert.)

I rode across the Potomac on the Key Bridge onto busy M Street. It was the busiest I’ve seen this road since the pandemic started. A right turn at Wisconsin Avenue brought me to the Water Street protected cycletrack. Sadly, the cycletrack ends after a couple of blocks and I had to waltz with the SUVs looking for street parking. The street ends at the Capital Crescent Trail trailhead and next to a boathouse so the SUVs all get to do a 3-point turn in the midst of heavy bicycle and pedestrian traffic.

The Mule and I made our way onto the CCT. The adjacent, unpaved, C&O Canal towpath was a mud pit so I decided to take the CCT all the way to Bethesda.The CCT wasn’t all that crowded except for a group of skateboarders that stretched about a mile in length.

In Bethesda I weaved through the diners and pedestrians who had taken over the city streets and followed the detour signs to Jones Bridge Road. The detour gets around the re-construction of the Georgetown Branch Trail. Jones Bridge Road is a busy thoroughfare during the week as it runs along the Bethesda medical complex. On Saturdays it’s rather calm. Soon I had doubled back across the GBT right of way. I could see where the old Rock Creek Trestle was. This was one of my favorite spots in DC. You could hang out above the treetops which made for a pretty great show when autumn colors arrived.

Crossing the GBT right of way I headed downhill toward Rock Creek Park. A big white SUV passed me with its engine roaring. I yelled “Wow. I’m impressed” into its open passenger side window. A minute later I pulled up behind Mr. SUV at a stop light.

About a half mile later I was on the closed section of Beach Drive, the main road through the park back to Georgetown. It’s insane that such a beautiful park is right smack dab in the middle of a huge city. Beach Drive winds its way down the Rock Creek canyon, crossing and re-crossing the creek. The road has recently been repaved so the riding is just about as sweet as can be.

And the scenery is like this. For mile after mile.

Beach Drive is open to cars and gets a bit hairy nearer to Georgetown. At one point a Maryland driver zoomed passed me honking his horn. I returned digital fire. Then in the interest of self preservation I switched to the side trail. The trail was a mess. Recent rains have caused the creek to overrun its banks. Standing water and mud covered the pavement. I survived.

After passing the Watergate and the Kennedy Center, I entered the beach volleyball slalom. The courts were closed but it was just my luck that the Bikeshare tourists from Oshkosh were in town. They rolled slowly in a sort of mechanical blob for 100 yards or so before stopping all over the trail. One on this side, one on that side, one in the middle, a few off the trail on the left and a few on the right. They then began asking each other where they wanted to go (Hint: the big marble building in front of them was the Lincoln Memorial). I rang my bell and yelled “Coming through!” They said “Oh.” They then proceeded to waddle their bikes all over like the players on an electronic football game or a gaggle of startled geese.

I survived this too. The weather was so good I didn’t cuss or anything. Honest.

Soon I was crossing the Potomac on the Memorial Bridge back into Arlington to reverse course around fab Pentagon North Megaparkland! They should charge for the views.

After clearing Old Town Alexandria I decided to try the MVT for the last few miles home. The first mile was rather frustrating as expected (Okay, let’s assemble the entire family right here on this paved trail while ignoring 30 acres of pristine lawn), but the traffic thinned out and the last two miles were copacetic.

Just before home I stopped and picked up some drugs. The deep discount for my asthma medicine was discontinued. Alas, I am now too old for Big Pharma’s mercy. My glaucoma drops thankfully are still reasonably priced.

I also got a flu shot. It was free. Thanks, Obamacare.

I arrived home after 51 blissful miles. I have now ridden exactly 7,000 miles this year.

It’s time for some baseball and junk food. Perfect.

It is official: my pandemic boredommeter has broken. I continue to ride nearly every day but my daily average is falling. Doing 80 to 100 miles in oppressive heat and humidity is likely to lead to an evening at the neighborhood trauma center.

My neighborhood trauma center is used to seeing bicyclists. One time many years ago I crash on the Mount Vernon Trail. I had a dislocated left knee cap and my left arm was cut to the bone. There was blood. The first question the triage nurse asked me was “Did you hit yoru head?” I said “No” and had to wait 20 minutes. Later, as I was wheeled to x-ray, a patient in cycling clothing on a gurney was being wheeled out. We said hello and he asked me “How’s your bike?”

He hit his head when he fell.

Anyway, my longest ride this month was 52.5 miles. I nearly got killed doing it thanks to a rumble strip and a pile of storm debris. On the plus side I averaged over 29 1/2 miles per day, even while taking three days off.

For the month I rode 920 miles putting me at 6,885 miles so far this year. I’m still on pace to exceed 10,000 miles for the year, but only barely so. I need to have a big September and October.

My stenosis came back. I reached 17,000 miles on my Cross Check. And I signed up for my 12th 50-States Ride in late September.

On to autumn!

If you thought riding across North Dakota and Montana was a slog, try riding during a pandemic. From time to time, I escape the roads near home and go somewhere else. This month I visited Kent County and Talbott County on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. Long, level riding is good for the soul.

Closer to home, in a manner of speaking, I rode the 100-mile White’s Ferry Loop. Level ground to be sure, but quite an undertaking. It also confirmed that Big Nellie, my trusty recumbent, aggravates my stenosis condition. (The pain went away after a couple of days.) My fourth long ride of the season was the 52-mile ride to Bethesda with a return through Rock Creek Park.

But mostly my riding has been confined to 30 to 40 milers near home. During my last full year of work I rode to and from the office over 130 times. I am beginning to feel that same level of monotony. It sure would be nice to point The Mule in a direction and ride far but that’s not going to happen this year.

For the month of July I rode 1,033 1/2 miles, taking two days off to refresh my legs. It’s the second month in a row over 1000 miles. I am now 115 miles ahead of the pace I need to hit 10,000 miles for the third year in a row, resting comfortably at 5,935 miles for the first seven months of the year.

Bike to the Beach update

My friends Mike and Emilia don’t know each other but they have each signed up to ride 100 miles in the rain today in support of Autism charities. You can help by throwing some cash their way. Just follow the links. Thanks.

The other day I was on the Facebook reading about the dental woes of my friend Sam. Sam has recently learned that she needs dental implants. Despite the fact that she has two kinds of dental insurance the implants will cost her $5,000 out of pocket. A real kick in the teeth, don’t you agree?

I once had four fillings start to break down. I needed crowns for all four teeth. I discovered this in November. In December during open season for insurance for federal employees, I signed up for dental insurance. In January, with the dental insurance in effect, I had the work done. The following November I canceled the insurance. I think I save something like $2,000.

As I was typing this insurance anecdote in a reply to Sam on the Facebook, one third of a veneer crown on one of my front teeth sheared off. I am not making this up.

The vaneer was about 30 years old so I am not complaining. In fact about ten years ago, the vaneer on my other front tooth fell off entirely as I was trying to pull the plug off the top of a water bottle on my ride home from work.

So I went to the dentist today. I was more than a little anxious about this because I’d have two people in my face for over 30 minutes during the procedure.

I pulled into the parking lot and it was empty. So far so good. I put my Washington Nationals mask (hand crafted by Mrs. Rootchopper) on and went in. The waiting area was empty. The receptionist used one of those Star Trek thermometers to check my forehead temperature. 98 degrees. Then she gave me a coronavirus quiz. It was a Yes or No test. My answers were: No. No. No. No. No.

Jackpot. The dentist will see you now.

I was shown back to an examination room by a technician wearing a mask and a hair covering. Along the way I passed several other examination rooms, all of which were empty.

The technician gave me a mouthwash to rinse with for 30 seconds. Then she took an x-ray and made a mold of my front teeth for use in making my temporary crown. After that she put a Q-tip with vile tasting numbing stuff onto my front gum. The dentist came in wearing two masks and gave me some novocaine. Ow. Ow, again. He then examined the mold and found it not to his liking so he made another.

Then the carpentry began. The rest of the old vaneer had to be removed. Then the tooth itself had to be shaved down to a fang to accept the crown. This took a good 20 minutes and involved lots of suction and fluids and noise. For this part the technician and the dentists wore face shields. I felt like I was in a science fiction movie.

The face shields and drilling made it hard to hear what they were saying. The dentist kept telling me to lower my jaw, even pushing my head down from time to time. I thought this was odd but in retrospect he was doing his best to keep me from spraying saliva and rinsing water all over the place.

Once the tooth was fanged he made another mold for the final crown. Then he put on a temporary crown and shaped it. He’s pretty good at this carpentry stuff, because ten hours later it feels like a real tooth.

The dentists picked some color samples out and we played matchy matchy with my other front tooth. My new crown won’t match exactly partly but it is made of zyrconium, a stronger material.

If I get covid from this dental visit it won’t be because the dentist didn’t do everything he could to be safe. Taking my temperature. The screening quiz. One patient at a time. Masks (in his case two). Face shields. Hair coverings. And that odd bit about keeping my jaw down.

I go back in two weeks.