adventures in Momponia

Well, I’m lucid enough to type, and grateful for that small blessing. Am rather less grateful that my tiny son doesn’t understand why Mummy cannot have him crawling all over her, or even using her as a handily placed standing-up aid, as she keeps laying on her fold-out bed that is so conveniently situated on the floor! Am rather more grateful than I know how to put into words for the Michael in my world who tirelessly looks after both mischievous son and moaning woman.

Yesterday – the news in as brief as possible.

MRI went smoothly and well. Henry was deposited at Michael’s parents for a sunshiney day of frolicking, and after some award-worthy bus timetabling, Michael and I met at the hospital at 12:20 or so. We found our way to X-Ray reception well before 12:45 and were taken through to begin the scan in good time. The scan itself was actually ok. Quite painful getting myself aligned correctly on the table, and then when the board was balanced on my pelvis, the look of stubbornness on my face was the main thing stopping me from crying out at the sudden weight in the most tender of areas! But, 40 odd minutes and many strange noises later, it was over and I slowly made my way back to my own clothes (attractive as hospital gowns are… at least I’m now thin enough I could wrap the small ties around my waist so no back nor buttocks were on show!) and Michael.

We sat in the concourse, ate WH Smith sandwiches, and waited until 14:50, at which time it was back to X-ray main reception to present my next letter to the receptionist man. He tapped something into his keyboard and directed us to Paediatrics. Yes, you did read that correctly. Off to Paediatric Radiology we stumbled, “You’ll know it by the big pink octopus!” we were assured. And it’s true that we did. Though it did seem to me that pink wasn’t such an important detail as it wasn’t as if all hospital wards had other coloured octopi heralding their existence. Surely just the mention of an octopus would have been enough?

Anyway, I digress.

At 15:00 I gave the pink hoodied receptionist my appointment letter. At 16:55 I went in to have the injection. Inbetween, I did keep asking if I was next, every 25 minutes or so, Each time I was assured that I was… each time, I was not. I did manage to get one of the receptionist’s nicely padded swivel chairs to sit on for the last 40 minutes or so, though, as Michael asked for a more suitable seat for me! Fair enough, I was in bucket loads of pain.

Woman who performed the procedure was fantastic. Told me I was much better than the rugby players she normally does these injections on. It didn’t go too smoothly, though; the first anaesthetic injection went in very painfully, but easily enough. The actual steroids were less wonderful. 3 attempts failed, so more anaesthetic was given… all of this was incredibly painful, though I tried my hardest to remain silent. Finally, it was done. Incredibly dizzy, numb but in pain, I left – happy to be rid of the place.

“48 hours til all that anaesthetic properly wears off, then probably 48 hours of discomfort for you. Take it easy, it’ll be 4-6 weeks until you know whether it has been successful. Carry on taking your medication as normal.” Condensed, the advice I was given. Not exactly a quick-fix solution, then. Let us hope for the best, in any case.

Oddly, I also received a letter from the Medical assessment people for Disability Living Allowance: apparently their doctors have looked at my file and the fax from my doctor asking for a home-visit instead of me going to their centre, and they’ve suddenly decided that I don’t need a medical assessment at this time. Odd. Have they decided to take me seriously, or totally discounted me? If option 1, hurrah! If option 2, I will appeal against the decision.

Lots is going on.