Oh for goodness sake. Honestly…really? I can’t move my bloody knee. No motion whatsoever. I can’t bend it which means I cannot walk properly or drive at all. One week as a rock star renders me useless and relying on others for everything. My son looked at me longingly and said, “When oh when are you going to be okay again?”. My period is coming any moment now which has just about thrown me over the edge. Poor chaps around me, I am not pleasant.
Had an MRI late last night, which was preceded by an ER visit over the weekend. Why is it always on the weekend that we need the ER?? It’s one of life’s dirty little tricks as it costs at least 30% more on the weekends and I’m one of those people who calculates those things, even in excruciating pain. But there I was on Saturday night with my exhausted but loyal-to-the-end mother sitting beside me. My sister walked in and resumed her position in the other chair as if we had rehearsed this scene a hundred times. We had to laugh because these scenes, me in a gown late night in a hospital with Nancy knitting and cracking jokes and my mom ready to attack any nurse to get the doctor in sooner, are the same scenes when I’m in labor. Usually Husband is snoring in a vacant bed nearby…seriously, that happened once…and we focus on the clock ticking all the way around the circle as if we’re watching a game.
Nothing is broken, torn or popped. There’s no blood clot or Baker’s cyst (new term now learned referring to causes of knee pain). What there is is acute inflammation, tendonitis and calcification centralized in the back of my knee causing constant pain greater than I have known before. Pain is depressing, debilitating and even demoralizing. This week has been challenging and a culmination of a lot of stress. And it’s only Tuesday!!
Husband is still banished in Bulgaria, well, filming in Bulgaria but banished sounds more explicit to how he’s feeling, and is desperate not to be with me in my time of need. Time of need; a phrase I don’t take lightly or use that often. But I am in that awful phase where I have to watch my life rather than live it. The boys are my anchor. They know that I can’t move so they move their world to me. Which is sweet and tender, and loud and dangerous. Boys with crutches…not a good thing. Within five minutes the crutches were new Jedi weapons used to kill the Sith Lords. I had to remind them that I am Obi-Wan and I will destroy anything in my way. Being on a steroids pack significantly enhances moods, good and bad. All I can say is Siths beware.
I saw an incredible chiropractor yesterday named Franco Columbu. If you look on his website you’ll see him when he was Mr. Olympia. Picture a nice looking version of The Incredible Hulk. In real life, he’s shorter than I am and speaks heavy English with his Italian accent, and, a lot older than his website pictures! But, he is talented and knowledgeable about the body. The most effective way for me to get healthy is to combine western and eastern methods.
Traditional doctors are there to make sure it’s not serious and to take away the pain. The alternative doctors help you understand how the pain got there in the first place and how to avoid it coming back. They are each others yin and yang, and both sides love to take nasty stabs at the other. I almost have to pretend to agree with the respective doctor in order to get the best from him and then make up my own concoction afterward. Steroids and Wobenzyme – watch this space.
In the meantime, I feel a slave to the drugs I’m on as I’m desperate for them to work, so dealing with the depression as a side-effect will hopefully run its course. I do find it amazing that my mind can be so subtly controlled by a drug that I can be fooled into thinking I’m genuinely depressed. I am not depressed!!!!! I’m just…in pain.