I really didn't want to bore everyone with my health updates so I shall spare you the pictures of my scars and accompanying spreadsheets of my latest painkiller regime. I wasn't going to blog about it because I didn't want to sound like one of those grannies you hear in the doctors waiting room – you know, the ones comparing their ailments and tablets with each other.....
Granny 1: “Well, the blue and yellow ones I was taking for me waterworks weren't working, so Dr said, 'well...' he said, 'they're only 25mg, that's your problem. What you need is 75mg'. So now I take 75mg of those and 50mg of the pink ones three times a day with food.
Granny 2: (not to be outdone in either the illness or medicinal brawn stakes) “Really? I have to take 100mg of the white and red ones and 250mg of the creamy coloured ones, you know the ones that are really big...like horse pills...”
Granny 1: (realising she is now partaking in a game of malady one-upmanship) “Ooh I know, and now the Dr is talking about giving me these new tablets that aren't even on the market yet. They are very expensive so they can't give them to everyone. I'll need 500mg in the morning and 750mg at night. The doctor has to get special permission from the Health Department to give them to me...”
Granny 2: (ignoring all that because she is on a roll, continues with gusto) “ ….and the Dr looked at me and he said 'Bunty, I don't know how you keep going like you do. You're an absolute saint. I've never seen a uterus like yours in almost 20 years of medical practice'. And he was in the Médecins Sans Frontières for 3 years, so he's been around the block a bit and has seen a thing or two!”
Grandad: (sitting opposite, leaning heavily on his walking stick) Well, this new cream I've got to put on...
So, I'm not going to be like that but you've all been very kind and asked how I got on (OK, well 2 of you did, but I know you're all very busy) so I will just say:
The facet block injections did indeed hurt like hell. I had to lie on my stomach with my bare ass in the air (so dignified don't you think?) while they injected along my spine. They gave me a local anaesthetic, but I think it must have been faulty or flood-damaged stock because I felt everyone of the the buggers go in....and there were eight of them. Yes, that's right - EIGHT! And although I couldn't see it, I'm sure the needle they used was at least a metre long... and I love the way healthcare professionals are the masters of understatement:
“just a little scratch coming up” (this is where I stifle a scream – no – that's not a little scratch – that was a centimetre-wide blunt instrument skewering my skin like some spatchcocked chicken)
“this might be a little uncomfortable” (for 'uncomfortable' read 'agony' – I mean, what are these people made of - because it's obviously not the sensitive, rose-petal delicate muscles of this mama's ass.
Seriously though, the fault lies entirely with me being an complete wimp (I would have been absolute rubbish in the Blitz) and the hospital staff were brilliant. It was very sore afterwards but the Consultant had warned me that the muscles don't like this procedure at all (direct quote). Still it does seem to have had some positive affect and I can move a little easier. I suppose I thought it was either going to work or not – I hadn't considered that it might work a bit. Now we have to see how long it lasts because it's only a temporary measure - for some people it lasts 6 months – for others, only 6 weeks. I fear the fandango may have to wait a little longer......