All the literature I can find on t’interweb speaks of the interminable wait between having a biopsy and receiving the results. I have thirteen days to fill. I thought this was going to be tricky. So I planned lovely things: a day out with friends to the Emma Bridgewater factory; family visits; lunches out. Turns out I really needn’t have worried. My time is speeding past at an alarming rate.
I have discovered, that nothing distracts me from things I’d rather not think about than crushing pain. Pain that leaves one totally immobile. Pain that causes one to groan like a cow in labour. Pain that blocks out all other thoughts, sucking all things into an excruciating vortex of agony. Do you get the impression that I might have hurt myself? Just a teensy bit??
Sunday afternoon saw me leaning over the dining table jotting a note. I turned to my right and that was it. I was slammed by a wall of searing back pain that left me breathless and unable to move. It was 3pm. Ever the optimist I was sure it would pass so not until 7pm did I admit defeat. By then, my pain was so bad I would rather have had my hysterectomy all over again. Even my facial accident didn’t give me acute pain like this. By 7:30pm three paramedics were here and I gasping Entonox like it was the source of life and Mother Morphine was coursing my veins and soothing me from the inside. Finally my muscle spasms were beginning to relax.
I was carted off to A&E where more analgesics were administered and I was finally discharged at 2:30am, still stiff and sore but at least I was more mobile.
Looks like this week is going to see me spending a lot of time pacing or lying on the floor or working on the exercises my physio friend has given me!