Friday, 4 December 2015

Thinking about pain

I injured myself about a week ago. Actually, no, it was exactly a week ago, last Friday, the 27th of November, that's when it happened. That is the when, as to the how, I've no idea. That's the perplexing thing. I went to bed fine, and when I woke up my right arm felt a little dead, you know, that kind of feeling you get when you've slept on your arm? That's what it felt like. So, I thought nothing of it. I went about my day, I did normal, everyday Terence things (we are an industrious folk, us Terences, so long as that industry involves being lazy, watching cartoons, and playing video games we can go all day), all the while with that little twinge that should have had me worrying.

The next day, Saturday, it was really quite painful. The pain had bloomed during the night. I went around to a friend's house and did normal friend things, like being lazy, watching cartoons, and playing video games (for they are Terencian in those ways), and....I don't know....I never let on or complained about the pain. All day and night, I was surreptitiously moving my arm about, putting it behind my head or something (really weird thing, putting the arm up and behind the head gave some relief from the pain...I figure it must be something to do with the pressure on the muscle or something, but then, I don't know, because surely gravity would also be acting on it....or maybe angels were high fiving the pain away...I don't know! You come up with a theory then, looking at me like I'm crazy, pfft, it is not I who am is I who am mad!), which made it okay for like a moment or two, then the pain would come back with it's bigger brother and kick my ass for chatting back. 

Then, Sunday morning. Oh boy, was that fun. I couldn't get out of bed. I couldn't move. When I was a kid, I was ran over by a car. I think i've talked about that before, I nearly lost a a foot, it had to be literally sewn back on....that didn't hurt half as much as Sunday morning. Well, maybe it did, I don't know, pain is weird in that sense. Like, you can imagine pain right, someone puts the visual in your mind of being stabbed in the eye or whatever, with a needle, you go 'ah, wtf, bleugh' and shiver, right? But remembering pain? That's much harder. At least it is for me, and I assume it's a universal thing because I've not met anyone who can actually remember physical pain. Mental pain, sure, but physical? Not so much. And I talk about this a lot with people, because I'm weird like that....anyway, it was pretty bad, I couldn't move for the pain. At least for a good half hour anyway, I just kind laid there and cried. Then I remembered my ninja turtle training, rolled off my back, and got a taxi to the A&E.

Here's where I could go on a rant about the NHS. Because they didn't examine me. No scans, no poking, no prodding, nada. Just, 'you're in pain,' 'yessum,' 'is it really bad?' 'yessum,' 'cool, here's a prescription for some pain meds strong enough to kill a small elephant, go have fun.' 'aye sir!' Because....and I know that it must be awfully disheartening to be a doctor at times, especially in a shithole of a city like Liverpool, and it's hard to believe when there's a real case because of every arsehole scouser who comes into the clinic with their 'aw, but lad, i've got this like, real pain, giz us some meds like', but iono, it just seemed really unprofessional to sign off on something like that without an examination. But then, that's the NHS for you.

Since then, life's been shit. I had to actually stay off university because I couldn't get dressed (literally couldn't put my pants, shoes and socks on, because it hurt far too much, even with the meds, even with my left hand). I'd not missed any education or work thing since I was fourteen or least, not for a legitimate reason....I mean, I've stayed off plenty of times because laziness or dropping out of college and whatever, but that was always my decision. It was somewhat galling to be forced to the sidelines. That a physical impairment kept me out of the action, as it were. I don't like being reminded of my own mortality, and that's happened a lot this past week. When I was in my late teens, early twenties, it used to keep me awake at night. Again, I think this is something I've talked about before, something that I'd mostly gotten over, but it's been back this week, because I've not been able to read books, play video games, go to university and what not, and also, the pain in the arm has been keeping me awake at night and that's when the thoughts creep in. When the shadows curl and twist around the silence...

It's still hurting now. The arm, I mean, it's still quite tender and the hand's numb. I tried writing before and well, my already messy handwriting is even messier because I can't hold the pen right....even typing this out has been kind of a chore because, and I don't know why this is the case, but my co-ordination is, I keep hitting the keys above and/or to the side of the one I want to hit....I don't know if it's just because I've not typed anything in over a week (with the right hand anyway) or what, I don't know...that's kinda scary in itself though....that it's a skill that can be 'lost', as it were, in just a week....I'm hoping it's just the meds and the fact that the muscle's still kind of twinging. 

Anyway, that's all I have to say right now....and jesus, how many words did I have to use to not say not really much of anything at all...

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