Hello Square One, Not So Nice to See You

Oh well, here we are again. Me and Square One appear to be becoming good friends, sadly.

Exactly ten days after my steroid injection and having being very careful (not standing too much or walking too far) and gradually feeling better and better, I reached Thursday and again my world shrank. Maybe I walked a little too far or  stood a little too long, but I appear now, on Saturday, to be in as much pain as I was in the weeks leading up to my injection. I could just cry.

I’m currently sitting, after a painful day at the gallery, icing my hip and drinking wine. It’s called self-medication. I’m tired and grumpy.

I’m due back at the physiotherapists at the hospital on Thursday morning, so I’ll try to struggle through to then. I’m trying not to take pain killers because I’m frightened that if I mask the pain I’ll end up doing more damage. I’m sick of moaning and I’m fed up of being in pain every time I stand up, every time I put one foot in front of the other. I’m totally fed up of seeing runners in town and enviously wishing that I was in their shoes.

The Morning After

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It’s the morning after my steroid injection. My husband keeps asking how I am and if it hurts and I keep on saying “I don’t know.” I’ve felt so lousy for so long that it became a norm and so now I’m getting used to life after bursitis.

The procedure itself was a doddle. I wish I’d pushed for it months ago, instead of going along with treatments that were never going to work because the bursa was too inflamed to respond. Instead I struggled along, icing my hip at every opportunity and, even, in the end, having to walk with the aid of my grandmother’s walking stick. I was old before my time.

It was done by a physiotherapist. She explained everything twice, once before the procedure and again afterwards (just in case the words had slid off my over-anxious brain). I don’t need to avoid gory details, because it wasn’t at all gory. I lay on my good side with my back facing the physio. The area was still very swollen, so she knew where to go! She felt for the worse spot, guided by my ‘ouches’, marked it with some sort of punch (just a nip on the skin), injected a local anaesthetic and left the needle in place whilst attaching the steroid tube. I was told I’d feel a little pressure, which I hardly did, and that was it. The whole thing took less than 30 seconds and I felt just the local needle and that was just a scratch. Amazing.

Having had it, I wouldn’t hesitate to go for it again. It was nothing, absolutely nothing, especially in comparison to what I’ve endured for five months.

I waited at the hospital for half an hour, advised to do so in case of an adverse reaction to the injection and then was chauffered home by my very worried looking husband who hates needles. I’ve been told to stay off my feet as much as possible for 48 hours to allow the steroid to settle in the area and not get dispersed. The local anaesthetic wore off around six hours after the fact, so I took a couple of ibuprofen and half a bottle of wine, all for medicinal purposes and slept like a baby last night!

This morning I have no pain and no apparent side effects, but I’m very aware that without either I might be tempted to do too much. I have already been warned to sit down and watch “Star Trek and Gotham and whatever other rubbish you have saved.” So I will.

After that I have to take it easy for ten days; no housework, no ironing, no long walks, no standing for too long, definitely no exercise! I have a physio appointment for two weeks time. I’ll be reassessed and will be able, if everything is alright, to start my strengthening exercises again. It may be a wee while yet before I can try a treadmill run.

But I will!

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