Post 371: Shoulder hydrodilatation — ouch!
“On a scale of 10, when you get to 7 tell me and we’ll rest,” said the optimistic consultant when I had got “comfy” on the slimmest bed I’ve ever seen, before and after the X-rays had been done to align the long needle heading inside the shoulder capsule for dilation. (Long sentence, please breathe — now).
Before all that I drove down to the hospital to allow my Darling the drive home only.
She asked me whether I had slept last night. “I wouldn’t get a wink,” she finished with.
I replied that “I didn’t give it a thought—I slept like a baby.” I’m glad I didn’t know the extent of the ache nor the time taken. But I suppose that depends on loads of things on the day.
I left my Darling in the waiting room, and followed the nurse. I blundered after her on my way unknowingly down the corridor to the operating theatre, the tiny bed and the over-arm X-ray machine, I was welcomed by the consultant who told me all about what was going to happen, while I struggled to get on the black plank they called the bed. I wriggled down the plank to get my head in the right place and heard him say:
“You’ll be in a bit of pain today, so take pain relief as you need it this evening when the dugs wear off.”
He continued, “In three days—Monday—you can start exercising it.
We don’t have check-ups for six weeks, till the steroids wear off.”
And then:
“Sharp scratch,” and we were away.
It was a while before the capsule had taken the saline, anaesthetic and steroid enough to get to
“Ouch, Seven” I said quietly, as the back of my shoulder felt it needed a little rub to make the aches go away, but I didn’t ask. The aches subsided and we continued, and this time it started with a five and rose quickly, immediately. I just kept quiet until I absolutely had to stop him one more time.
It’s not easy to explain the ache but, with all the anaesthetic, you can’t tell what’s what. It’s all a shoulder blur.
“2 mls to go, we are nearly there,” the doc said with some surprise. “You’re doing great.”
I wish it were over, I thought to myself, and seconds later it was. Over.
“Right, get up when you can—that’s it. Remember the exercises on Monday and you’ll be fine. Goodbye,” he said.
I couldn’t get away quick enough. It wasn’t unbearable pain—it was the fact I didn’t know how long to hold my breath for. I could have done with a commentary on how far we were with the 50 mls… or could I? Anyway, It was in and out in under an hour.
Anyway, its done. That was technically yesterday and I’ve awoken (with my Darling heading out the door for work). It’s 4am and the weekend has started for her.
For me, I’m going to grab a glug of oramorph and get back to sleep, hopefully.
I haven’t had any extra pain relief since the pill change (from 30 to 40, twice a day on the slow-release morphine)over a week ago.
I’ll survive.
That’s scuppered the Lands End to John o’Groats motorcycle ride I was going to do this weekend—“in my dreams”.
That’s it and I must keel over and get some Zeds.
Good night.
Take care.
