a brief hiatus
I had three almost totally pain-free days. This was something close to a miracle, and it happened in a miraculously short space of time. I’d come home from work, aching as usual, stiff and miserable and fed up because I hurt, and I had my usual bath and Leo made curry for tea. It was lovely curry, full of tofu and vegetables and served with poppadums and lovely yellow rice. We ate our tea and when I stood up to go out for a cigarette I realised that I wasn’t hurting. I mean, there was a bit of an ache, but not the usual pain that makes me wince and manoevre my legs in strange ways. (Here’s an example of how crap that can be: this afternoon I had cramp in my calf and because my leg was so stiff and painful I couldn’t actually flex my muscles to alleviate the cramp, and had to ask my girlfriend to pick my leg up and waggle it about. Pah.)
But yes, I had a couple of good days at work, I managed to go shopping in town without it being a hideous chore and I walked to and from the supermarket – about 1/4 mile each way – and it was only on the way back that I started to struggle. The worst bit was that I don’t seem to have any lift in my thigh right now, so walking uphill involves a weird, loping, sloping kind of gait to make any progress.
The magical curry that we had contained turmeric and ginger and a whole host of other yummy spices. There is a possibility they contributed to my miracle cure, however short-lived it was. Research suggests that these spices do indeed have anti-inflammatory properties, which is good, because I almost constantly crave curry. My favourite is mutta paneer (curries peas and cheese for the uninitiated). Cutting out dairy means I can’t have it anymore, but I think I will attempt (or more likely ask Leo to attempt) to make something similar with tofu.
Anyway, I had three or so good days, when I whizzed about at work and managed to survive a whole shift without our lovely cleaner asking me if I was ok and trying to make me sit down. She’s incredibly caring but does sometimes make me feel like I’ve got something terminal rather than just a pain. Ongoing, and at times hideous pain, but pain that’s mostly treatable to an extent, rather than something that could potentially kill me.
I wonder if there’s a link between curry and relentless optimism, because if so I think I need some soon.
sunday morning
o8.10h and I’ve been at work for over an hour. In theory I was meant to get up at 05.45h so I could have the hot bath that helps me to move first thing but I was having this really good dream where I was in the pub with my best friend and my god-daughter and I was proudly wearing a nurse’s uniform which was an adult-sized version of those thin, scratchy ones you get for kids. With me I had another uniform, in a suit bag; I was pointing out the long sleeve and covered buttons to my friend and saying, ‘This one’s for when I’m Sister!’
You may laugh, but bizarrely enough I do actually have a job interview for the post of Ward Sister tomorrow. Those of you who are familiar with the Carry On films will have an idea of how my brain is imagining my potential promotion: Lots of ‘Ooh, Matron!’ moments, plenty of scrapes involving hiding lost goats in the sluice and escapees running wild in the community with axes. Well, hopefully not the last one. Things like that look very bad in The Daily Mail.
So yes, job interview. I decided not to tick the ‘do you have a disability?’ box when I did the online application, because if I take enough pain killers and just grit my teeth, I’m fine. I’m fairly certain the drugs don’t affect my judgement, which renders me safe to be dishing them out to other people. There’s an old operating theatre stool in our clinical room which I sit on behind the hatch when I dispense the patient’s medication. It makes me a bit short, but it helps. I suspect at some point very soon I’m going to have to see the Occupational Health people and get some kind of risk assessment done on my ability to work et cetera. Boring but necessary, I suppose.
