Moany Moany not Mony Mony

"Which way do I turn?" and "dare I turn?"; these related questions come to the fore at erratically scattered instants of day or night. In the past few days, tortuous pains have danced from left side of the back (a hollow bruising ache just below the shoulder blade, as if one was undergoing a sequence of blows from a felt coated lead lump hammer) to a more acute nagging pain in the left side of the back just above hip level. These sensations tend to overlap with a more constantly recurring gnawing ache just under the rib cage and, other old familiars returning with a vengeance. 

 A nausea inducing throbbing pain, on the inner side of the upper left arm - accompanied by a tenderness in the armpit, frequently prevents my attaining an appropriate period of rest during the night. As exhaustion overtakes me mid-afternoon, a gnawing ache, occasionally becoming more acute, in wrists and elbows necessitates the donning of wrist splints (both arms) and the taking of additional pain killers.Today, this discomfort in upper limbs vied for honours with a throbbing pain around the knees which seemed to ease slightly with the donning of elastic supports.

 A sensation of giddy light-headedness, alongside not infrequent griping reminders of my IBS and diverticular problems, does little to help me feel at ease. Despite all the above, I did manage to enjoy a celebratory lunch at The Park yesterday for our wedding anniversary but, even that didn't come payback free!

from twinge to twang

Payback of an unexpected kind, for last weeks gardening exertions, slammed in to me this morning as I took a shower. The shower seat, which has previously proved an invaluable aid, turned out to be this morning’s site of reckoning. Having creakily lowered myself onto the said seat, the task of standing up again proved quite excruciating; the twinge experienced during the descent became a searing twang as my spine convulsed in the vicinity of the herniated disc.

Exiting from the shower proved an intensely painful nerve-wracking experience, and I subsequently needed the assistance of my beloved to towel myself down and get dressed. It’s just as well that ma belle’s recovery is, slowly but surely, getting underway.

A first attempt to move downstairs, walking stick aided, proved abortive. As I tried to lower one foot, onto the first step, a more sustained convulsive spasm toward the base of the spine erupted; a sudden leap up the pain scale from six to nine point five. Thus thwarted I returned to the bedroom and sat down for a little while until I summoned up the courage to attempt the staircase descent once again. With my right hand firmly grasping the handrail, and supportive walking stick in the left hand, I tentatively lowered the right foot onto the first step, and utilized the right foot lead mode on each subsequent step.

A sense of achievement and relief at thus shuffling down the stairs was its own reward. 

Of LIMITATIONS and ENJOYMENT

OF LIMITATIONS and ENJOYMENT

Middle of the night and nature called; an attempted leap out of bed became the more familiar slowly lumbering self removal only, this time, with added difficulties. For the past two or three days the back pains had all but disappeared, only the more regular  discomfort remaining in its stead but, now it seems to have returned with a vengeance. It’s strange how one’s own body delights in playing tricks; just when you think it safe, to carry out an effort of moderate exertion, it sends out a disconcerting alarm signal. If only that signal was as transient as that of an alarm clock, disappearing as soon as one taps the necessary button, there would not be a problem but, unfortunately, these signals are not of that peremptory nature which curtails one’s pursuit of the (unwittingly) harmful course of action. These signals always seem to arrive after the harm has been done, swiftly transmuting the alarm call into a sustained aggravation.

So, you may well wonder, what transgression had I committed against my ailing torso? All I’d been doing was carrying out a partial filter and water change in our largest aquarium, changing two of the filter pads and performing a less than 20% water change. I could (almost) swear that I carefully controlled my posture during the entire operation, to minimize the risk of detrimental health effects, but my body makes a different declaration.

Prior to that minor operation I’d made a visit, with my beloved chauffeuse, to the local aquarists to replenish necessary supplies. The journey is approximately 2 ½ miles but, as is becoming an increasingly common experience, it felt like a major expedition; even travelling at speeds which never exceed the legal limit, on primarily suburban roads, can seem  like  we’re exceeding Mach 1 – my body  crying out in reaction to the velocity at which we’re hurtling through space. 

The whole sensory overload experience seems once again, and most regrettably, to be edging its way into taking control of my lived experience. I’m just hoping and praying that I won’t tumble once again into that convulsively shattering realm.

Strange as it may seem, apart from the sundry ailments which posit substantial limitations on my activities, I do continue to enjoy life. The simple pleasure of observing, and encouraging, the flora and fauna of our garden is a wonderful joy bringer, second only to the presence of my beloved. As I’m no longer able to cope with cinema or theatre-going, the increasingly wide range of films available on DVD proves a real blessing. My enjoyment of cooking, provided a fair range of herbs and spices are to hand, is another source of pleasure, as is the consumption of the end product! I must admit that much of the time I don’t really feel unwell, sundry muscular and glandular aches and spasms have quite simply become an accepted component of normality; it’s only when i attempt to stretch my activity output that I’m quite forcefully reminded of my limitations.

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in case you missed yesterday's frivolous posting on 'Mal's Murmurings' I've repeated it here :

A Nation’s Addiction?

A radio news bulletin informs me that we’re becoming a nation of TV addicts, adding “according to a survey of viewers“!

They should try surveying non-viewers, only to discover that nobody ever watches TV in the UK!

 

when minor exertion becomes major expedition

The irritation continues; a constant nagging pain in knee, calf and ankle, occasionally lightning bolting its way, in full spasming flow, to hip and lumbar region, is a most unwelcome companion for whom familiarity has truly bred contempt. Sadly contempt does little, or nothing, to detract it from its constancy. A regular intake of tramadol curbs the discomfort's sharpest edge and, is currently supplemented with an evening dose of amitryptiline by way of neuropathic pain control and to help with sleep.

This morning, having trudged along to the local bakery to collect our wholemeal loaf, what would normally have been a ten minute exertion was transformed into a twenty-five minute torturous expedition. Conditions underfoot profferred no truce for bearers of herniated discs and temperamental sciatic nerves. In that short distance, areas of the pavement ranged through crisp firm snow, icy compressed snow and deep grit and salt induced slush. Every few yards I needed to halt and, supported by a stout walking stick, thrust back my shoulderblades in an effort to stretch and unlock the spines nagging lumbar region.

Since returning home, a sustained deep sharp nausea inducing bruised sensation has held my right lower limb in thrall for the past eight or nine hours, the pain being especially acute around the knee and ankle. 

Mind you, the garden under it's blanket of snow was nice to look at!

surrounded by lights - kept in the dark

It's truly amazing how much, or how little seeming like so much, has happened in the past week. After the gardening exertions of the previous week, everything seemed to be going so well, not even a hint of post-exertional kick back. Sunday morning, woke up and robotically began to apply dermatological cream to my lower limbs when a snapping twinge locked my back mid-rub. Yep, I'm always aware that my back's rather vulnerable, herniated disc and all, but it always takes me by excruciating surprise when it un-elastically responds to the meagre stretches that I've imposed on it.

I swiftly sought the assistance of the old faithful walking stick, for additional support, as I headed downstairs. Extra doses of tramadol were required for the next few days, an essential supplement to the efficacious application of ibuprofen gel. Care had to be taken not to remain seated, for too long, in any particular position, not even on a supportive high back chair, in order to avoid a painful lock down.

Wednesday evening things took a slightly more dramatic turn, around 9.20pm, having spent the evening listening to the radio and catching up with the latter stages of that day's epic Wimbledon set, I was feeling quite shattered. Decided to have a cup of Decaff just before going to bed, took a sip and suddenly felt sick. Simultaneously it felt like a vice was closing in on my chest, right from top of ribcage down to the floaters. A sharp bruised sensation made it difficult to catch my breath and,of course, the more frightening the experience became the more difficult it was to get my breath. I turned simultaneously clammy and totally drained of colour. The paramedics took ecg's and simple prick test to check my blood sugar level; ecg's seemed fine but they could sense my general discomfort and thought I should be checked out at the hospital.

Arrived at A&E just before 10.00pm, had my blood pressure taken a few times and further ecg's. The duty doctor consulted further and decided that I should be admitted for observation. Eventually a bed was found in the acute ward and I was transferred there just after 2.00am, and they  immediately strapped me up to a monitor and told me to get some rest; now that was a tall order, within five minutes blood pressure and temperature were being taken again. By 3.00am the house doctor, from cardiology, came to examine me and told me that I would have further blood samples taken at 9.00am and, if the test was OK (meaning negative) I could go home. Shortly after this visit I was asked whether I'd mind changing to a different bed, an offer I greeted with enthusiasm as the one I was in was most uncomfortable. Around 6.30am, had a visit from the cardio consultant (along with one or two acolytes) and he informed me that he would want a further ecg taken after the blood sample and muttered something about a treadmill test. The noise, lights, and being kept in the dark about what exactly was going on were certainly not at all conducive to restfulness.

Blood samples were taken just after 9.00am and, a further ecg done at around 10.15am, the rest of the time was spent hanging around not knowing exactly what was going on. I'd got out of bed to have a little breakfast but, felt unable to note everything about the environment, or my fellow inmates, my vision being minorly impaired as I didn't have my spectacles with me. My sandal clad feet, and ankles, were getting extremely cold and I had no socks with me to warm them up at all. Come lunchtime, the food was absolutely disgusting - I'd settled for the salmon & dill potato bake in which the miniscule flakes of salmon looked like the scatterings of an infants overfull mouth bonded together with what looked like and had slightly less flavour than wallpaper paste.

Visitors had been arriving but, no sign of ma belle, I thought I'd be heading home at any moment. All this anticipation of imminent reprieve became increasingly frustrating as it failed to materialize. When ma belle arrived, at 3.30pm, she was already aware that my reprieve wouldn't be until the afternoon as she had contacted the ward (twice) earlier in the day, although I hadn't been informed of this. In fact, I only discovered that the blood test was negative after pursuing my own line of enquiry; strange how the staff had plenty of time to chat to each other but no time to communicate necessary information to the patient. Once it was known that the blood test was negative they were able to release me from the monitor leads.

Suddenly. whilst ma belle was visiting, they informed me that I was being transferred to another ward which came as something of a shock, as I was still anticipating an imminent leap into freedom. By this time I was getting ultra-tetchy, bothered by the lights, noises (on and off stage), and the general sense of being left in the dark; to placate me an annoying light was switched off and I enquired about discharging myself from the hospital. The staff on this ward were really helpful and chased up the coronary unit to speed up my treadmill test; rather than waiting for a porter to take me down (five minutes later) I was accompanied by one of the staff from the ward. I'd determined to exert myself to the nth degree on this test, although well aware there would be some slightly delayed post-exertional consequences, as I would risk anything to gain my freedom from this internment!

By 5.30pm, Thursday, I was on my way home, leaving it to the hospital to forward my discharge papers to my GP rather than incur any further stir craziness by waiting for same to be prepared. The post-exertional effects had really begun to hit home by Friday evening, followed by a very restless night with sharp aching pains being felt in chest, shoulder and leg muscles, along with my old familiar foe of intense discomfort in the armpits. The general feeling is one of a rather disconcerting fragility, a generalized discomfort; this post-exertional-malaise, unwelcome as it may be, is easier to deal with in the free world than it would be within those formidable clinical walls.