It has been so long since I wrote a post (last Tuesday) that I have almost forgotten how – or indeed, why. During this time I have been dipping in and out of Facebook and picking up on others posts and reading some very sensible and serious offerings which again lead me to question the content of these posts. The content can only be described as ‘my ramblings,’ – nothing of importance or value really. Let’s face it, what can be that interesting about a cat, three chickens and a lovable but irritating bloke?
If I’m being honest – and I always try to be – I think the question of my health hanging over me hasn’t helped. I’ve been tootling along for the past three weeks, ever since having a brain scan, and pretending I wasn’t worried or in the slightest bit concerned. I think I was lying to myself. And I think this underlying worry, coupled with the side effects of taking migraine relief drugs, has had its effect on my enthusiasm for most things. I do know that I haven’t really been myself.
I am usually a ‘let’s get to it,’ type of person and to lose my essence confuses and depresses me. BUT I am hoping that the light I now see is the light at the end of the tunnel…
On Tuesday I trotted along for my first Physiotherapy appointment on my fusing neck joints. In my head – the recently scanned one – it was going to be a total waste of time with some random physiotherapist printing off a sheet of exercises for me to embark on and that would be that. I wouldn’t do them because they hurt and they are a waste of time. As I sat waiting a guy appeared in a white coat. In the past I have had fragile little souls ticking my muscles and to no effect but this guy was different. Jamaican, as tall as a house and with hands the size of palm leaves. I figured that if he ever laid a hand on me it was certainly going to hit the spot. He was charming and lovely and spent a while on my history, then he asked if he could treat me. Yes, indeedy, he could. This is the point at which I should scream out something that I believe in totally …BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR!
The thumb in the neck was child’s play. No worries. Then he asked me to adopt a face down position. I obliged. He said, ‘it might be a bit sore’. I said, ‘bring it on.’ No gain without pain!
This mountain of a man with palm-leaf-size hands pressed so hard on my back that I couldn’t inhale or exhale. I just held my breath as he attempted to push me through the couch. It hurt. Really hurt. When he finally released me, and I sat up, I said, with hair everywhere and looking like I’d been dragged through the proverbial hedge, ‘If you had applied any more pressure I would have died!’ He laughed and said, ‘oh no, don’t do that’ Nice man. Obviously concerned about me already and we’d only just met. Then he added, ‘too much paperwork!’
He sent me home with a sheet of printed-out exercises! But, I’m doing them and they are helping. Miracle of miracles. This intrusive manipulation brought on a migraine within hours and I now have to seriously consider than my neck joints are a factor of this condition.
I was told by my doctor, who said she would chase up the scan results, that I should phone the surgery on Wednesday. I left it until Friday. At this point I was still OK and I would be OK until I rang. Ignorance is bliss. On Friday morning I rang. Usually the receptionists will give out results but this time she hummed and arhhed and said she would get the doctor to ring me. Brilliant. Obviously there was something on the scan.
I spent the rest of the day worrying and coming to the following decisions in the following order – If the results were positive I’d drive to a very tall cliff and jump off. No. If the results were positive I would simply drop the ‘tough guy’ routine and go to pieces. No. If the results were positive I’d deal with it. A bit of time spent resting in hospital having my head opened up wouldn’t be that bad. I could deal with that. So, when, at 2.30, my mobile rang I picked it up immediately. The doctor said, ‘hello, you wanted the results of your scan? They are normal.’
‘Are you sure?’ I said, only your receptionist seemed very unsure,’
‘Scans are not as simply to read as blood test results,’ she said. ‘The terminology is far more complicated. But you are fine.’
‘Really?’ I said, ‘no little borderline or grey areas waiting to erupt?’
‘No little grey areas,’ she said, laughing. ‘In fact it’s as normal as normal can be.’
‘Are you sure it’s my scan?’ I said.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It’s your scan. And it’s normal.’
So, I’ve been beaten to a pulp by a very large Jamaican gentleman, suffered a migraine, been zonked out by beta blockers, been informed that I do have a brain and that it’s OK (at the moment) and questioned the value of crap content on this blog.
If I make it through the day I’ll try to be back tomorrow.
Joking apart, thank you for sticking with me through this ‘awkward’ few weeks. I know I’ve been boring and low-key and threatening to send Chea back to the RSPCA but I’ll try harder, I promise.
Take care my lovelies x (and I really do mean that)