An excerpt from a letter to an e-friend. We hadn't exchanged letters in a good long while, and were catching up each other's mutual woes. I have to say, she's gone and is going through a whole hell of a lot more than I probably ever will. She's good people, and I admire her greatly.
>As for me, my problems seem rather petty in the face of all that. It's the gift that I get from being friends with ***, a chance to put my life into perspective.I've had a bad neck for years. Up until this spring it was nothing other than an occasional bother, but since February it's acted up three times, each time worse than the last. An MRI in March confirmed that the vertebrae in my neck all show arthritic changes, with stenosis and some ankylosis. I've never had any sort of neck injury. It's just one of those spontaneous things that keep happening in my life. *grin*
Anyhow, the last flare up was about four weeks ago. I was put on some pretty heavy duty pain killers and prednisone. I've learned from my post-operative experience last year and the first round of pred for my neck last March that corticosteroids and I are not a good mix. After about a week on them, they start to do some pretty heavy duty messing with my mind, with anger alternating with depression. I didn't want to agree to this last course of them, but the pain from my right arm convinced me otherwise pretty darn quick. []
I've been off the pred for a week now, and see a neurosurgeon on Thursday, so with luck we'll get this under control in the near future. There's no consistent pain right now (except when I do something stupid), but there is numbness in my right hand and very limited range of motion to my right in my neck. I doubt I'm a surgical candidate; things just aren't that bad. I do need a way to prevent these flare-ups from happening though.
I'll admit, I spend more time than I should right now pitying myself. I suspect it's just an ego thing. I spent two years being the center of everyone's attention. I was coddled because I had a fatal illness, I had doctors hanging on my every word, and (frankly) I had a lot of interesting things happening in my life. I was then the miracle kid for a bit, and everyone wanted to get the scoop on the transplant.
Now, though, I'm yesterday's news. I don't even get to see the same doctor each time I go in for a check-up at the center, and they really don't want to see me much any more anyhow. I'm doing so well they've assigned the residents and students to do my follow ups, and all those kids want to do is hustle me out of the room so they can catch up on their paperwork and sleep. I can't blame them - their schedule demands that they cut what corners they can, and I *am* healthy now. I laugh at myself, because I pretty much see right through me. And yet I still can't help feeling depressed about the whole thing at the same time. In some sense, it was nice to be the patient. It's much harder going through life as a whole and responsible person.
Kitten has crawled into my lap while I'm typing this. She's making a habit of this. She stretches out so long that I have to put my feet up on the tower so she doesn't slide off. It's uncomfortable, but I don't have the heart to give her the boot.
Strange creature.