Or why can't I feel like this everyday?
On Friday I had a large dose of cortisone in each shoulder. My arms now actually move. My hands no longer feel like wood for three hours each morning. I know WH is a carpenter by trade but this is taking empathy too far. Best of all that searing, yet gnawing, pain has gone. For a while.
I had all this in November after it was realised that what one doctor was treating as two frozen shoulders was really a maninfestation of the RA-like disease. Thank goodness I saw that second chap. " I'll give you some now" "Whaaaat?" I was sitting in his private 'Rooms' and was no doubt paying by the second for the plush cream carpet, the original lithographs on the walls and the snooty, look down her nose, vision in Jaegar and pearls who had let us in the front door. I panicked. I asked WH to come and hold my hand, I said I don't do injections very well. They thought I was being a real wuss. What was really going through my mind was that the last time I had had that treatment, the needle had hit a nerve or something deep in the joint, I had a sudden adrenaline rush and I threw up all over the doctor only then to pass out cold.
The room was swimming and all I could think about were those cream carpets and Oh My God the bill if I was sick. I braced myself, and took a deep breath, I nearly broke WH's thumb gripping it so tightly. I hardly felt the first injection. We all changed sides. The second was OK too. "I think I'll just pop some in your wrists as well, it will help your hands." First one done I sat back, this was a breeze this time, no worries. The last one went in on my right wrist alongside those big veins, it was a slightly different place to that on my left wrist. the needle hit the nerve, an electric shock shot out of my finger tips and rebounded back up my arm. "Oh shit" I shouted at the top of my voice. WH looked away. The dapper little consultant beamed, "All done now, wasn't so bad was it?" No, not if you're used to having a hand where the wiring diagram had gone crazy, had shocks from everything you touched, the feeling of your flesh being on fire and the pain to accompany it. I felt like one of those space aliens who have killer sparks coming out of their hands. Oh yes, a piece of cake.
The following morning I could have done the Olympic Shot Put. My shoulders felt like they were floating. My hands moved in the early hours of the day. For the first time in months I could brush my hair properly, have a shower, dress myself and tie my shoelaces and all before twelve o'clock. WH said it was reminiscent of the film "The Awakening". It was worth it.
The treatment did not live up to it's promise however and after 6 weeks all the strange little symptoms started creeping back. In early January whilst WH was away skiing I painted the kitchen. By the the end of the month I could barely move. I had been promised 8 months of freedom, I had barely had 8 weeks.
A long awaited NHS appointment beckoned, and I finally went last week. Another new man. He was great though. Was horrified I have still not started the disease modifying treatment I was prescribed by the chap in November. Was mystified why the GP seemed to need a name for this strange fast moving condition. "It doesn't matter what it's called at this stage, the thing is to stop it from getting worse. I can't leave you like this. I'll put some cortisone in your shoulders." I was on my own this time. I told him I was a bit wary of needles. "Well don't look then." Oh if it were only that simple.
After the two painless, incident free shots I told him the real reason I was wary. "Well you did that all wrong" he replied, "You should have been sick over the nurse."
On Friday I had a large dose of cortisone in each shoulder. My arms now actually move. My hands no longer feel like wood for three hours each morning. I know WH is a carpenter by trade but this is taking empathy too far. Best of all that searing, yet gnawing, pain has gone. For a while.
I had all this in November after it was realised that what one doctor was treating as two frozen shoulders was really a maninfestation of the RA-like disease. Thank goodness I saw that second chap. " I'll give you some now" "Whaaaat?" I was sitting in his private 'Rooms' and was no doubt paying by the second for the plush cream carpet, the original lithographs on the walls and the snooty, look down her nose, vision in Jaegar and pearls who had let us in the front door. I panicked. I asked WH to come and hold my hand, I said I don't do injections very well. They thought I was being a real wuss. What was really going through my mind was that the last time I had had that treatment, the needle had hit a nerve or something deep in the joint, I had a sudden adrenaline rush and I threw up all over the doctor only then to pass out cold.
The room was swimming and all I could think about were those cream carpets and Oh My God the bill if I was sick. I braced myself, and took a deep breath, I nearly broke WH's thumb gripping it so tightly. I hardly felt the first injection. We all changed sides. The second was OK too. "I think I'll just pop some in your wrists as well, it will help your hands." First one done I sat back, this was a breeze this time, no worries. The last one went in on my right wrist alongside those big veins, it was a slightly different place to that on my left wrist. the needle hit the nerve, an electric shock shot out of my finger tips and rebounded back up my arm. "Oh shit" I shouted at the top of my voice. WH looked away. The dapper little consultant beamed, "All done now, wasn't so bad was it?" No, not if you're used to having a hand where the wiring diagram had gone crazy, had shocks from everything you touched, the feeling of your flesh being on fire and the pain to accompany it. I felt like one of those space aliens who have killer sparks coming out of their hands. Oh yes, a piece of cake.
The following morning I could have done the Olympic Shot Put. My shoulders felt like they were floating. My hands moved in the early hours of the day. For the first time in months I could brush my hair properly, have a shower, dress myself and tie my shoelaces and all before twelve o'clock. WH said it was reminiscent of the film "The Awakening". It was worth it.
The treatment did not live up to it's promise however and after 6 weeks all the strange little symptoms started creeping back. In early January whilst WH was away skiing I painted the kitchen. By the the end of the month I could barely move. I had been promised 8 months of freedom, I had barely had 8 weeks.
A long awaited NHS appointment beckoned, and I finally went last week. Another new man. He was great though. Was horrified I have still not started the disease modifying treatment I was prescribed by the chap in November. Was mystified why the GP seemed to need a name for this strange fast moving condition. "It doesn't matter what it's called at this stage, the thing is to stop it from getting worse. I can't leave you like this. I'll put some cortisone in your shoulders." I was on my own this time. I told him I was a bit wary of needles. "Well don't look then." Oh if it were only that simple.
After the two painless, incident free shots I told him the real reason I was wary. "Well you did that all wrong" he replied, "You should have been sick over the nurse."
1 comment:
Wow, that was a very interesting tale there...
...seems like you have been in a rut for a while now!
Hopefully everything can work out better for you and that was a great ending quote!!
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