The sickbed diaries V

All quiet on the western front. Well, a couple of minor issues. Today was the day for the removal of the vast quantities of shoulder padding which have enveloped me for the past three days. Ok, so we almost removed the wound dressing too, but thought to check how far we were meant to go – and that come off in a week. The wound dressing is thick with blood in two areas, areas now hard to the touch … I’m not convinced that next Weds will be at all fun.

I spend the day and most of the night trying to negotiate my way around various physical things. Emptying a Dyson bug-style vacuum cleaner is, well … interesting don’t cover it. I have got to the stage where I’m frustrated with my shoulder. This, as with anything, is a dangerous time. When you get frustrated you do things you didn’t oughta. Sneezing. Ouch. Trying to catch things. Ouch. Walking into things. Ouch.

The physio is scary. It’s not the pain, but the fear of pain, the fear of going too far, and also of going not far enough. The removal of the bandages has allowed more freedom of movement … but this is a double-edged sword. What kind of pain ought I tolerate? How much of what kind of pain? When ought I press harder … how do I know? Come to think of it, what exactly has happened?

Well, a slap lesion is where the glenoid labrum is ripped. The Glenoid labrum is a piece of goo at the apex of the shoulder cuff. Mine is a type 6 lesion, which means that it’s the biceps tendon that’s the issue … basically, everything’s hanging out and chilling where it oughtn’t be chilling.

So they done stitched it all back together, and sort of stapled it back into place.

The pain, such it is, seems to be centred around the wounds … the skin pinching and pulling as I move. Occasionally, like when I cough, sneeze, or move too quickly, I feel an internal jolt. This is more shock than pain, perhaps sharp discomfort describes it best.

The physio is designed to prevent joint stiffening and frozen shoulder – the latter common in Parkinson’s sufferers at the best of times. It’s gentle. And scary.

On the plus side, I’m not worrying about the PD at the mo. And I’m being visited by lots of people.

On the minus side, full recovery will take up to a year.



Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *