Electric Irony


I have had a fear of needles since I was just a tiny girl.  I would sit on the doctor’s crunchy papered table with my arms tightly behind my back.  It was my wrongly childish assumption that if doctors or nurses did NOT see my arms, they would forget about shots and finger pokes.  I would fear upcoming appointments so much my mom wouldn’t tell me about them till I had to go.

Fast forward to yesterday.  Ongoing issues with Chiari Malformation and herniated disks in my neck have offered up many chances to over come my fears and face them head on like a “big girl”.  I’ve had many chances over the course of several years to practice not freaking out by doing pregnancy blood tests every month, childbirth with it’s IV’s and epidurals – and just plain ole life offering needs to get poked at checkups and such.  But my ongoing annoying conditions have resulted in MANY needs for trigger point injections, cervical epidurals, and pin point electrocution.

Yep – that’s right, electrocution with crazy needles of torture.

Somehow getting better means living out my worst nightmares in open air – where crying for your mommy would probably be frowned upon.  Ugh…  I don’t want to be a grownup, okay?  I never asked to grow up.  As grown up as I am, it is still hard to walk down the hall after my name is called and not want to turn around and scream NOOOO! like a 4 year old babe.  I wonder…  has anyone ever done that in that infamously sterile smelling hall where everyone wears garb, plastic coated hands, and paper hats?

Yesterday my mom actually was the one to drive me to my injection, and I found it ironic that I was faced with walking away very straight and sure of myself, in a packed room, when they called out my name to go get tortured.  I had to force myself NOT to turn around for one little small finger wave and wish she was allowed to come with me and hold my hand.  Stupid I know.  But I am still a girl inside.  I swear it.

I’ve had several injections, every time they seem like a big deal.  To some people I spose it would be a “whatever” sorta thing…  I’d like to say it’s all routine by now – and by the 7th and 10th round of injections, I would be an old hat – but it just isn’t.

So for the sake of taking you along with me – just cause I feel better not being so alone – here is what they do…  they prep ya like you are having surgery, making you wonder if they do, in fact, remember that they are NOT doing that and that you are very much AWAKE!  Big scanning machines taking real time photos and Xrays or whatnot are constantly scanning so they get the needles in the right place.  This is both conforming and a bit unnerving.

Then they do their thing, saying “a bit of pressure now” and “a little poke and bee sting coming”  with a “remember to breathe” reminder thrown in.  Really?  Do they get the chance to feel that “bee sting” in prep to do this themselves?  I always wonder because it is more like a wasp than a bee.  Just sayin.

Now the last time I had the EMG stunk.  It was for carpel tunnel in both hands, both rated as “severe” and they bypassed all the therapy that they often start with and went straight to the surgery.  I guess I didn’t know that all people didnt cry while cleaning their bathtubs…  anyway, I digress…

The last time it was torture.  They placed several needles up and down my arm and electrified them and measured the time it took the nerves to send messages…  in other words – PAIN – to each other.  This time?  They will do both arms, across the shoulders and back.  They want to measure from fingertip to fingertip, I guess looking to see what is Chiari related and what is due to the herniation?  It’s all a bit foggy because I am clueless to medical jargon thrown at me a zillion miles an hour, and the meds I take make me forget that jargon nearly as fast as I hear it… so I can look it up easily later.  But what I do get is that it is painfully clear that I will NOT like Friday’s appointment.  Ah well…  after it’s over, I will have info and maybe a better direction to go to have things moving forward and onward.  I will be a better person for it later.  Right?  Just humor me here and nod convincingly.

Anyhoo – all this jabber is just to say – I am still alive and kickin – a bit uncomfortably, but the kick may be a bit harder just because it makes me fighting mad sometimes when my weeks go painfully crappy like that.  But hey… what would I be without something to jabber on about?

I dont aim to come off whinny…  but somedays I just feel – well, whinny.  My dad called it wearing your “Poor lil ole Me” shirt.  I have a long sleeve button up shirt on – flannel cause it’s cold again – but it’s hidden underneath.  Obviously.

Thanks for listening… now off with you to do something besides listen to me whine!

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