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family, health, lessons learned, life, mental-health, personal, writing
Good thing needles don’t scare me.
My mother claimed I developed a tolerance for needles when I was a young boy, when she took me to the pediatrician for a series of allergy shots. It’s possible that is true. Now I like to watch the needle go in, which I think helps alleviate the flinch factor. When I give blood, it freaks the phlebotomist out as I watch them slide that large needle into my vein. There are times when it really hurts, like the time the phlebotomist missed the vein and tried moving the needle around. My arm was bruised from the crook of my elbow up to my shoulder.
Maybe it’s time to interject about injections (insert rim shot).
It really is a good thing that needles don’t scare me… at least too much. I know that the level of pain from an injection can be directly related to where the injection is located. For instance, the needle usually is more painful when inserted into a muscle or joint. Joint injections are my concern at this time — because I have had two injections in my right knee in the past few weeks. There are more to come. Two weeks ago, it was a cortisone shot. Yesterday was the first of three weekly gel injections. My ortho, who has a bit of a gruff bedside manner, joked before administering the cortisone shot that it’s amazing how freaked out many seemingly masculine, tough men get when they see a needle. He said his assistant has often had to help hold guys still while a shot is being given. Maybe it was his way of preparing me. When the needle went in, it was definitely not comfortable all the way in, slowly administered but not even close to as uncomfortable as the doctor built it up to be. When finished, I quipped ‘That was it?’. Yep. The shot did not live up to the hype. The doctor and his assistant both confirmed that same injection had brought out the coward in many men.
Wimps.
I am giving in. Unlike my tolerance for shots, I am hesistant to accept surgery or the recovery/therapy that follows surgery. But I realize that it’s time for the knee to be replaced. Insurance requires that protocols be followed before a knee replacement will be considered, so I am going through that protocol now. The cortisone shot was the beginning. Gel injections and therapy are also required. Cortisone provided quick and temporary relief, and I immediately was able to climb the stairs in my house with noticeable improvement. That improvement has already declined. Yesterday’s gel injection did not provide any relief, but the doctor advises it usually takes several gel injections before any noticeable change is experienced. Even then, the gel usually only provides relief for a few months. BUT, if it helps, I may be OK with the doctor saying let’s delay replacing the knee. I doubt, however, that Lisa will like that. She went with me to the first appointment, and she really grilled the doctor. Her job involves dealing with doctors and hospital administrators, so she is not shy when talking with a doctor. Turns out my doctor really liked talking with her (who wouldn’t like talking to such a pretty, intelligent woman?).
So, I am taking my shot(s). We shall see what transpires!
I’m getting a little tiny taste of retirement this week, a nugget of nothing, a week of staycation. Nothing is what I expect, however I doubt nothing is not what retirement will be. What it will mean, if the past few days are a decent sample, is that I will get a chance to work in ways that I enjoy. Sleep will be less regimented, controlled less by an alarm clock and more by my own internal clock. Yesterday, I managed to sleep past 7 AM, but today my internal clock had me awake a little past 5 and out of bed by 6. That is fine by me. I like the quiet comfort of the morning, the feeling of being greeted by God as his creation is slowly illuminated before me. A serene scene is laid out before me, a glassy pond reflecting the trees on the other side and shrouded by the morning mist, all framed by the trees in my back yard and the glass doors from my dining room. My morning coffee, a half cup of strong heavily sweetened dark roast, has been consumed, as has my usual half cup of oatmeal with chopped banana and honey drizzled on top.
shenrydafrankmann 