Report on yesterday's injection, today

...because goodness knows I wasn't up for doing it yesterday.

I woke up starving, and got to stay that way (no food or drink after midnight). We had planned to be there early, but a spinout on the freeway meant that we got there right at 7:45. The paperwork was minimal, since they'd transferred the electronic records already (yay for doctors who live here in the 21st century with the rest of us), and I had barely picked up the magazine before I was called in. The orderly(? nurse? aide?) indicated that I could bring the magazine if I really wanted but "Dr. Honet is quick, and you won't have any time to read it."

A change into the latest in medical couture (blue fabric gown with ties in the back, blue paper hat with matching paper slippers), and the nurses started their endeavors to stick an IV in me. I'm very hard to get a needle into successfully-- my veins run deep, and they're slippery. I generally consider it a success if the nurse takes 3 pokes or less. These ladies got it on the first try, no small feat on a good day and nothing short of amazing on a cold morning when I'm still sluggish. Kudos to them.

Several different people asked me if I'd eaten anything, the doctor asked if I had any questions, and then the gurney and I were wheeled into the operating room (? procedure room? I'm not sure what the proper term would be). I was asked to roll off my back on the gurney onto my stomach on the table, drugs were injected into the IV port, my back was swabbed with something cold, and then I came to in the recovery room. I assume that they used the levitation ray they developed in the secret lab below the facility to get me back on the gurney. Or possibly they just asked me to roll back over and I complied. I have no evidence either way, and I like my story better.

Juice, crackers, stand up slowly, walk a little for me please, drunk-driving test (the nurse asked me to touch my fingers to my nose), here's your clothes back, see you in two weeks for the next one, and John and I were back in the car a little after 9am. (He *is* quick. The pre-op instructions indicated we could expect to be there for 2 to 3 hours.)

I had been warned that because they were injecting more stuff into an area that was already inflamed, it would get worse before it got better. It is good that I was warned, because if I had not been prepared for more pain, I would have been on the doctor's front doorstep with a shotgun demanding to know what he did to me. It would not surprise me to learn that the doctor refined his careful explanation of why it is normal for it to hurt more at first as he was staring down the barrels of guns held by his patients.

Foolishly, I had assumed that "There will be more pain before there is less pain" meant that it would be the same pain I had had before, only stronger. This is not the case. The pain that had been living in my hips decided to move in with the pain in my lower back, so while I could move much more freely than I've been able to for some time, there was no such thing as a comfortable position. Additionally, despite my not clipping the coupon, the doctor had helpfully applied the "buy one injection, get one invisible guy with a stick poking you in the back at random intervals" special anyway. At one point when I was just sitting quietly, I swear someone grabbed my left kidney and squeezed hard.

One of the downsides of having adverse reactions to several different painkillers is that my pain relief options are limited. At the doctor's suggestion, I had had good success pre-injection with mixing ibuprofen and acetaminophen. Post-injection, the mix took the edge off but didn't relieve it entirely. I ended up calling Liz and asking what the maximum dosage I could safely take was, and then I took that. It still didn't completely relieve the pain.

Around 7pm, the nausea hit, by which I mean "John, please empty a trash can, put a new bag in it, and bring it to me so that I have something easy to clean in arm's reach when I need it. And.... hurry." Despite a desperate desire to vomit and get it over with, I didn't. A little after 8pm, I gave up and went to bed, taking my empty trash can with me to sit next to the bed. I was still nauseous at 10 when John went to bed, but mostly okay by 2am when I got up to use the bathroom.

But... there is an inherent promise in "It will get worse before it gets better", and that is that it *will* get better. Today is not pain-free, but the levels are less than they were two days ago, before the injection. I took an entirely reasonable dose of ibuprofen+acetaminophen this morning, instead of "How much can I put in me before I damage internal organs?" The guy with the stick is still there, but his pokes are half-hearted now. It's better than it was before I started. I'm pretty sure that as time goes on, it will get better still. Overall, I think that yesterday's misery will have been worth it in the end.

Report on yesterday's injection, today

...because goodness knows I wasn't up for doing it yesterday.

I woke up starving, and got to stay that way (no food or drink after midnight). We had planned to be there early, but a spinout on the freeway meant that we got there right at 7:45. The paperwork was minimal, since they'd transferred the electronic records already (yay for doctors who live here in the 21st century with the rest of us), and I had barely picked up the magazine before I was called in. The orderly(? nurse? aide?) indicated that I could bring the magazine if I really wanted but "Dr. Honet is quick, and you won't have any time to read it."

A change into the latest in medical couture (blue fabric gown with ties in the back, blue paper hat with matching paper slippers), and the nurses started their endeavors to stick an IV in me. I'm very hard to get a needle into successfully-- my veins run deep, and they're slippery. I generally consider it a success if the nurse takes 3 pokes or less. These ladies got it on the first try, no small feat on a good day and nothing short of amazing on a cold morning when I'm still sluggish. Kudos to them.

Several different people asked me if I'd eaten anything, the doctor asked if I had any questions, and then the gurney and I were wheeled into the operating room (? procedure room? I'm not sure what the proper term would be). I was asked to roll off my back on the gurney onto my stomach on the table, drugs were injected into the IV port, my back was swabbed with something cold, and then I came to in the recovery room. I assume that they used the levitation ray they developed in the secret lab below the facility to get me back on the gurney. Or possibly they just asked me to roll back over and I complied. I have no evidence either way, and I like my story better.

Juice, crackers, stand up slowly, walk a little for me please, drunk-driving test (the nurse asked me to touch my fingers to my nose), here's your clothes back, see you in two weeks for the next one, and John and I were back in the car a little after 9am. (He *is* quick. The pre-op instructions indicated we could expect to be there for 2 to 3 hours.)

I had been warned that because they were injecting more stuff into an area that was already inflamed, it would get worse before it got better. It is good that I was warned, because if I had not been prepared for more pain, I would have been on the doctor's front doorstep with a shotgun demanding to know what he did to me. It would not surprise me to learn that the doctor refined his careful explanation of why it is normal for it to hurt more at first as he was staring down the barrels of guns held by his patients.

Foolishly, I had assumed that "There will be more pain before there is less pain" meant that it would be the same pain I had had before, only stronger. This is not the case. The pain that had been living in my hips decided to move in with the pain in my lower back, so while I could move much more freely than I've been able to for some time, there was no such thing as a comfortable position. Additionally, despite my not clipping the coupon, the doctor had helpfully applied the "buy one injection, get one invisible guy with a stick poking you in the back at random intervals" special anyway. At one point when I was just sitting quietly, I swear someone grabbed my left kidney and squeezed hard.

One of the downsides of having adverse reactions to several different painkillers is that my pain relief options are limited. At the doctor's suggestion, I had had good success pre-injection with mixing ibuprofen and acetaminophen. Post-injection, the mix took the edge off but didn't relieve it entirely. I ended up calling Liz and asking what the maximum dosage I could safely take was, and then I took that. It still didn't completely relieve the pain.

Around 7pm, the nausea hit, by which I mean "John, please empty a trash can, put a new bag in it, and bring it to me so that I have something easy to clean in arm's reach when I need it. And.... hurry." Despite a desperate desire to vomit and get it over with, I didn't. A little after 8pm, I gave up and went to bed, taking my empty trash can with me to sit next to the bed. I was still nauseous at 10 when John went to bed, but mostly okay by 2am when I got up to use the bathroom.

But... there is an inherent promise in "It will get worse before it gets better", and that is that it *will* get better. Today is not pain-free, but the levels are less than they were two days ago, before the injection. I took an entirely reasonable dose of ibuprofen+acetaminophen this morning, instead of "How much can I put in me before I damage internal organs?" The guy with the stick is still there, but his pokes are half-hearted now. It's better than it was before I started. I'm pretty sure that as time goes on, it will get better still. Overall, I think that yesterday's misery will have been worth it in the end.