So the countdown to my op begins. Pre ops done, consented, angiogram done, right thoracotomy agreed and then the removal of the bone and the disc. So I taking big deep breaths and diving in. I’m trying to think of things I will need and how much I can prepare them in advance. I’ve even bought a reusable cup and I’m organising earl grey tea bags.
Maybe the bit i hadn’t quite imagined was having to stop one of my pain killers. Again I planned in advance and spoke to the GP, we had a plan and a back up. Now on my optimistic days I think, this is nature’s way of reminding why I am right to have the operation. On my bad days I’m less eloquent. In fact Andrew suggests i may want to pre warn the surgeons ( yes there are two!) of the richness of my language when the nerve pain kicks in. So I’ve been trying every diversion technique know; from knitting ( yes really), to audiobooks, to meditation to singing my way upstairs ( especially painful just now). Climb every mountain was the obvious one and guaranteed any witnesses will join in. The Russian national anthem I’m less proficient at but it’s rousing and at a sedentary pace I’ve found! My favourite diversion has been friends have been visiting and I’m surrounded by beautiful flowers and even have a freezer of fresh cooked frozen food! What amazing people I have in my life. And every bit of kindness and hugs work a treat, they really do.
I’m often asked what level my pain is at just now. And it’s hard to answer as so many factors are at play. I also know the principles of pain management, don’t allow breakthrough pain, take pain relief regularly etc etc but still a part of me wants to delay it, to wait and see even though I know logically that makes no sense. I’ve taught other people how to stay on top of pain and yet my brain goes to do you really need that? This is not a logical process!
So when I saw this alternative pain scale I loved it. Much of yesterday I was at least a Picasso and leaning towards Munch. Today I’m being taking out to a secret place for some pampering, I’m hoping to be no worse than a Rembrandt!
Wishing you a life at no more than a Vermeer.... and now I’m off with my daughter...I can’t wait.