A mobile MRI

January 24, 2012 by · 2 Comments
Filed under: health 

The mobile MRI truck in Beer Sheva

Following the unexpected clean bill of health I received from my “shocking” EMG test a few weeks ago, the search for the cause (and cure) of my sciatica continued last week as I underwent an MRI (magnetic resonance imaging) test. My doctor’s suspicion is that I have a problem on the L5 disc of my spine (whatever that means) and only an MRI can determine conclusively the next course of action.

Of course, scheduling an MRI through an Israeli HMO at any time in, say, the same calendar year is a task that even a young David would defer to Goliath. Hadassah Hospital in Jerusalem would be glad to book me an appointment, they told me…for April 17 at 4:00 AM.

My crafty wife, however, has learned – through unfortunate experience (securing a doctor to look at our daughter’s knee) – how to work the system and found an innovative solution: I would do my MRI in Beer Sheva at the “mobile MRI.”

Apparently, there is a trailer truck outfitted with an MRI machine that travels around the southern part of the country, parking itself for a week at a time in Beer Sheva, Dimona and Eilat. They had an opening – just one week away from the day we called – at an entirely reasonable time (1:00 PM) rather than in the middle of the night. We booked it and I psyched myself up for a pleasant drive into the metropolis of the desert.

To be sure, the MRI-on-wheels is a fully functioning piece of equipment. I can’t say as much for the nurse who needled my arm to open the infusion port that would pump radioactive “contrast” dye into my veins during the procedure. I had a feeling she wasn’t the most experienced nurse in the Negev as she repeatedly tapped my veins searching for the best one.

When I got to the MRI machine and lay down on the table, the doctor quietly scolded the nurse before turning to me to say that they’d have to open a new vein in my other arm (“just to be sure,” he assured me).

As for the MRI itself, if you’ve never had one, it’s an entirely alien experience. You place your head into a secure brace, don noise-canceling headphones and then lie perfectly still on your back for, in my case, about 25 minutes. Nothing spins on the MRI (unlike a CT scan) but there are a variety of noises – whirs and clicks and clunks – as the machine uses large magnets to look inside the nuclei of my atoms.

I passed the time by trying to match the sounds with intros to songs. One rhythmic beat sounded deceptively like the Beatles’ “Getting Better All the Time”; another clearly had the low-tech industrial warble of a Brian Eno solo composition; a third reminded me of the Steve Reich piece “Different Trains,” which played in Jerusalem last year.

I was in and out in just over an hour – perhaps because this was a “single task” facility, the mobile MRI staff were highly efficient. I was back in Jerusalem in time for a late lunch.

Now that the MRI was taken care of, I called up my HMO to schedule a follow up appointment with the back specialist. Yes, they would be glad to reserve me a slot with the doc. He has time on May 28. At least it was in the same calendar year.

Maybe I should see a back specialist in Beer Sheva too.

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New guy at Teva

January 3, 2012 by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: A New Reality, Business, General, health, Immigrant Moments, Israeliness 

The new guy

There’s another fairly well-known American running around town, and he’s making aliyah for the sake of his job, unlike long-time Israel Museum director James Snyder but similar to Bank of Israel governor Stanley Fischer. Interestingly, Jeremy Levin, the new CEO of Israeli pharmaceutical giant Teva, is also from South Africa — Fischer is from Zambia, part of South Central Africa — and is also an American citizen, although he has also lived in Zimbabwe, England, Switzerland and Israel.

And, like Fischer, Levin also speaks Hebrew, not however, as well as Fischer; not yet, that is.

What Teva is known for...

Like others in his position — several Maccabi Tel Aviv and Haifa basketball players (the teams require a certain number of Israeli citizens on the court during a game, so they recruited Jewish Americans), in addition to central bank governor Fischer — the CEO of Teva has to be Israeli, in addition to fairly knowledgeable about pharmaceuticals, which Levin is, as a former executive at Bristol Myers Squibb, and several other drug companies.

Of course, it’s a fairly major deal to become the chief executive of Teva, which has become one of the world’s largest drugmakers. But nice to know they also require their chief to be a local.

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A shocking test of nerves

December 12, 2011 by · 2 Comments
Filed under: health 

NCV shock therapy

I’m not sure what was worse – the over-sized needles stuck into my leg or the electric shocks.

Some background: about six months ago, I developed pain and numbness in my right leg. At first I tried to ignore it, imagining it just some strange runner’s pain, but when it didn’t go away, I stopped my exercise routine and went to my family doctor. He referred me to physical therapy which, when after three months of treatment, nothing helped, referred me to an orthopedist, who in turn referred me to a test called an EMG.

EMG stands for an “electromyogram”; it’s designed to detect abnormal muscle electrical activity. The orthopedist didn’t want to go forward on something major – surgery, cortisone injections – until he ruled out some sort of nerve damage.

An EMG is either a very popular test or they don’t conduct it very often; I had to wait a painful three months for the test which I finally did this morning.

How do they detect that abnormal muscle electrical activity? By sticking needles in the affected area and asking you to push against the doctor’s hand or the table as hard as you can. A machine next to the table translates your efforts into the noise of some alternative universe ultrasound (is my leg having a baby?) The pushing itself isn’t so bad but, dang, that needle felt bigger than the ones they use in acupuncture or to take blood.

For good measure, the orthopedist had also recommended another test call an NCV, for nerve conduction velocity. For this one, they attach metal conductors to your leg and feet and pump a jolt of electricity into the nerve. The first ones were OK; it felt like a strong static electricity shock, not much worse than rubbing a balloon on your head. But the electricity got progressively stronger. My leg jumped and I cried out.

The nurse told me to clench my fist as tight as I could. “Is this part of the test,” I asked. “No,” she replied. “It will take your attention away from the pain.” Super.

“Just three more,” the unsmiling, entirely uncommunicative doctor said.

And then it was over. There appeared to be blood spots on my leg, although on closer inspection, they turned out to be dots of magic marker ink.

“Wait outside while I write up the results,” the doctor barked, in what to him was probably his gentlest voice.

The whole process took less than a half an hour. As I walked out of the hospital and towards the light rail to head home, I opened the envelope with the conclusions that might make or break my case. Everything was entirely fine, the paper said; they’d found nothing.

While that’s normally the kind of answer you’d like to hear, for me it means more tests, more prodding and poking on the way to finding a treatment. My orthopedist said I will be able to run again. I just didn’t realize what he meant was running from doctor to doctor. Shocking, but true, so to speak.

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Duggars in the land

November 29, 2011 by · 1 Comment
Filed under: Blogging, Business, Entertainment, General, health, Israeliness, Life, Religion, Travel, tv 

Duggars on ElAl

I can’t believe I missed this when it was happening, but it appears that the Duggars, that conservative Baptist family of 19 (!) children (all stars of “19 Kids and Counting”), — soon to be 20, cuz Mom Michelle is pregnant again — recently visited Israel while on a grand world tour, tv crew included.

Duggars heading into the Kinneret

They clearly had very little press while they were here, because it wasn’t mentioned on the news or in the papers at the time. Then again, families with many children traveling around is not that uncommon around here, although 19, soon to be 20, is worth mentioning, even in this land of large families. Highlights included a boat ride on the Kinneret, baptizing in the Jordan River, eating falafel and pita, a camel ride, floating in the Dead Sea, buying pickles in Jerusalem’s Old City (not clear about this one, did they mean Machane Yehuda?), and other famed Christian sites, including the Garden Tomb.

Outside Yad Sarah

What did bring the Duggars to local attention was their visit to emergency clinic Terem and then aid organization Yad Sarah, when Josie, the baby, was heavily congested and required a doctor’s visit as well as extra oxygen to help her through the illness. As reported on Ynet, their guide brought them straight to Yad Sarah for the equipment, and then Mama Duggar, one of the older daughters and Josie, the youngest, ended up staying in Israel for another week while the rest of the family headed home.

Here’s a clip of their stop in London; the Israel part of the trip isn’t online yet, as it just aired on Sunday.

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FOMO at the Dead Sea

November 15, 2011 by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: health, Travel 

FOMO or not, the kids had a great time at the Dead Sea

When I was ten, my parents planned a trip for the family to Disneyland. But a few days before we were set to leave, my father got sick – it was a cold or a flu, nothing serious, but still, the trip was cancelled. I was devastated and, since then, I have tried to never miss out on any kind of experience, big or small. Understandably, this creates a lot of anxiety – I mean, which exciting activity should I choose? What if I choose the wrong one? And if I choose not to go at all, will I be filled with regret?

It turns out there’s a name for this – it’s called “Fear of Missing Out” (or FOMO for short).

Now, citing my missed Disneyland experience is a bit flip – by itself it wouldn’t qualify as the sole cause of my FOMO (for that, I’d need a regular series of dashed expectations that built up over my childhood). But today, the FOMO persists and lately, it’s been causing more distress than the actual missing out.

FOMO was in full bloom this past weekend. Our community was having a Shabbaton at the Ein Gedi Youth Hostel. On the way, we wanted to stop at the Dead Sea. The kids were excited to lather up with Dead Sea mud; I had heard from David Brinn in a post on Israelity about a nature reserve at Einot Tzukim that was supposed to be beautiful. The site also has a number of crystal clear spring-fed swimming pools and mud to boot (or so I thought).

We got a late start leaving Jerusalem. When we called Einot Tzukim, we were told that you can only get into the nature reserve part of the site on a guided tour. The last tour left at noon. We were passing Ma’aleh Adumim and had only 20 minutes to get there. I floored the accelerator and we arrived, miraculously at the gate at exactly 12:00 PM.

I jumped out of the car and cried, “let’s go.” But the kids didn’t want to hike and I hadn’t really considered their needs (mud, of which there turned out to be none) – my FOMO was so much in overdrive. I threw our daughter Merav the car keys and said, “The pools are that way. Imma and I will be back in an hour.” She looked perplexed and not a little bit cross.

As we toured the marshlands (gorgeous, by the way and highly recommended), I kept thinking about how I’d treated the kids and didn’t really enjoy myself. I vowed to make it up.

“Let’s go to the mud!” I announced.

And off we went again, racing towards Mineral Beach (only a few minutes from Einot Tzukim). But it was getting late and Shabbat was coming up quickly. My wife Jody was now the one who was upset. “We’ll only have 45 minutes. It’s not worth the NIS 220 to get into the beach.”

But FOMO raised its ugly head again. And so into the beach it was. The kids were delighted. Me – I couldn’t enjoy myself because, this time, I was disappointing my wife.

I had checked off both experience boxes in order to not succumb to FOMO and yet, I was desperately unhappy. This double whammy, driven home by the negative effect I’d had on the people I love the most, was the proverbial straw that perhaps, finally, would serve to break the FOMO camel’s back (a fitting cliché given our travels through the dromedarian Judean desert). My hope and aim is that, the next time I feel the FOMO rising like some unwelcome bitter bile, I’ll be able to draw on this weekend’s painful memory to keep it at bay.

Or maybe I should keep in mind one person who has it even worse. A friend at the Shabbaton shared with me that, whenever he’s at a buffet meal, he suffers from FOMOFF: “Fear of Missing Out on Free Food.”

Fortunately for him, the limp meat and cold schnitzel served at the Ein Gedi Youth Hostel was a fitting antidote.

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