Willow is a big fan of sun spots. On a bright day she follows them around, squeaking with delight.
Over the weekend, I too was squeaking.
Though not with delight.
It’s a sorry tale.
(Not that sorry.)
“Pain Management” and I were not getting along.
So I chose a different approach.
On Thursday, I sought the opinion of my spine surgeon.
As always, up came the “physical therapy” idea.
We agreed I could sidestep that.
My shoulder being the prime complaint, I was referred to an orthopedist.
Who, I discovered afterwards is a hip and knee man.
“Hmmm”, I thought. I sent a message to make sure we wouldn’t be at cross-purposes, again.
No reply. No surprise.
Then I had an unwise thought.
Tired of the phys therapy line, I decided on a 5 minute routine. In the past it always made things worse, but….
…just to show willing, you know.
Emerging from bed Friday morning , I quickly discovered would be a painful process.
A nerve was trapped somewhere in my neck.
Given that I am not religious, I’m unsure just why I kept appealing to Jesus for help. Repeatedly, all day.
One can hardly complain that he didn’t oblige.
When my pretzeled condition appeared in the kitchen, Grant twigged to the fact something was wrong.
Having been persuaded that calling a doctor was not an option, he went off to Walgreens, returning with a couple hundred dollars worth of salves, patches and heating pad.
Then I lay in bed with Blackie periodically poking me to ensure I was OK.
She curled up beside me and every time I screamed again she jumped, looking at me with big eyes.
Even Lily came to look a couple of times.
And when the coast was clear, Willow came to sit.
Willow is a most mysterious cat.
She is not a snuggler, doesn’t like being held.
She made me her person and ensures I acknowledge it.
But mostly she skips to her own tune.
However she always knows when I am in trouble,
When I am sad, she finds me, and that day, there she was, by my side. Not cuddling or poking. Just being there.
It may sound silly, but she is an enormous comfort.
By Saturday afternoon I was able to sit briefly at my computer and discovered that there is, in fact, an orthopedic emergency room, but would going there have helped? They could take images, perhaps but in order to get a shot, these days, you have to have a Covid test. Besides, I couldn’t imagine sitting in a car for 45 minutes, there and back on bumpy roads. Not an option.
Grant was getting desperate, poor man. I do know what it’s like, to watch someone suffer without being able to do a single thing to help. He finally asked if I would consider taking an oxycodone pill.
Does the fact that I refused indicate I wasn’t in that much pain? Actually I was, each time I moved, but that’s how scared I am, now of that damned drug.
Anyway, I wasn’t about to die. I just had to remember to lie still. So I found some music and considered what my next approach for help should be.
Apparently, the “hip and knee” specialist can also be consulted about shoulders, but necks are another thing, so the orthopedist is out.
(I am now totally convinced that the shoulder pain is deferred from my neck.)
Best we can do is another “Zoom” appointment with the spine specialist, next week.
He had said surgery was an option, although I have often been told, in the past it is not. Things change and I would be delighted if it would help.
But do I want to be in a hospital overrun with Covid? Not so much.
Today, I am managing to hold my head “just so” and the curses are down to one an hour rather than one every five minutes.
But physical activity is off the table and my time at my desk is limited, so I’ll leave you with a few more pictures.
While I feel physically a bit under par, it is the condition of our country that disturbs me far more.