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I have been scared of many things over the last 36 hours: the sheer pain of the experience the night before last, the volume of medication I have taken, the fear of developing an opioid dependency, and the question of what comes next.
I am happy to say that this round appears to be concluding in my favour.
Last night, after just two doses of opioid medication, I felt settled enough to sleep without reaching for any more. This morning, after a reasonable five hours, I woke up clearer, with pain at tolerable levels, one ibuprofen and nothing more, and no repeat of the night attack.
I still have the same dull ache in my upper leg that has been with me for three or four weeks. I am probably a tub of ice cream heavier than I should be. But the sheer, overwhelming pain has receded, and I am hopeful that the Gabapentin, now on day five, will begin to do its job as it builds in my system.
I never thought I would say this, but I feel genuinely relieved to be returning to something resembling normal PSP existence. That is not a sentence I ever expected to write.
I have simply never felt pain like that before. I hope never to feel it again. At least if it returns, I now know what I am dealing with, and my massage gun remains permanently within arm’s reach.
It was my wife, my sister, my carer, three doctors, my GP and two close friends who happen to be physicians, and my children who got me through this, together with my massage gun and far too many tablets.
And then there is the image I will not forget in a hurry: lying face down on the floor, my face on a pillow, my knees on cushions, my thighs on frozen pea packs, while my carer worked the massage gun on the places I could not reach myself.
If that is not desperation, I do not know what is.
Wow. I thought I understood pain. Now I know there are levels to it I had never imagined.
And now?
Now it is time to watch Messi.
