Yes…ow.
Over the last few weeks…okay, months…I’ve been suffering increasingly with shoulder pain. It’s now gotten to the stage where I can’t lie on my left at night, unhooking my bra is an exercise in masochism, and lets not talk about washing and brushing my hair. I actually consider for a few minutes everyday cutting my hair short. Don’t worry…it passes with the pain. Even if that is taking longer and longer to fade.
So this morning I but the bullet and went to the doctors. My appointment was for 11.30. I got called into see her at 12.20. Which really isn’t all that bad. I have waited two hours before now. Gotta love the NHS…snigger.
I have a friend who is a PT so she gave me some idea of what to expect. She said it’ll be physiotherapy for a while, maybe an injection, some more physio…see how it responds.
Not bad, Prof.
Except this is the NHS.
First stop was an incredibly painful hydrocortisone injection. Right into the muscle that’s inflamed. Painful. Angry. And did I mention painful?
Next I get to wait for an appointment for physiotherapy. Could be next week…could be six. Don’t you just love the NHS? Lol!
Actually I do. Worked for them for years after all. However, from the patient side…when you’re in pain…it’s very easy to criticise. And moan. And did I mention that its painful?
Okay, so moving on…so we have the incredibly painful injection, the wait for physiotherapy, and the scan that was ordered…and then we have to see how I respond. Lets not talk about the options if I don’t respond well. But sharp things, more injections, hospitals, and other unpleasant things were mentioned.
Wanna know what I say?
Come on physio! Woohoo!
Andrea Bramhall 