Not funny?
Well until last Saturday I would have considered it laughable, because each previous visit I've had to consultants of all shapes, sizes and denominations has left me without an answer, downtrodden and without any hope of being given the right treatment.
Last Saturday I expected the same. So much so, that I attended the appointment, (brought forward a month due to a cancellation) without any expectations, other than the disappointment of their apathy. So you can imagine my shock when the consultant said 'I know what's wrong with you'.
It was a bit like being introduced to the real Santa, or finding out the taxman owes you money and has volunteered a refund...it just doesn't happen...at least not, I thought, to me.
However this time it was different. The consultant, a man in his early thirties I guess, listened intently to my woes, made notes, examined me thoroughly, then uttered those immortal words 'I know what's wrong with you'.
It was, in poetic, fluffy, creative writing terms, like being slapped in the face with a rainbow! It hurts like hell, yet is profoundly attractive and promises the riches of appropriate treatment!
My new found sage has promised to write to my drug pushing GP to get me off the morphine, and onto a more appropriate nerve block. He is arranging appropriate physiotherapy, and has given me the information I need to research my 'condition'. He is also seeing me again in 4 months to discuss how I'm getting on and inject some of my arthritic joints.
What can I say?
My gob has been well and truly smacked!
But have I been handed a pot of gold or a poison chalice?
It's really difficult to explain how I feel today. On Saturday I was elated. Someone is treating me. It's a first in my 27 years of joint pain. For three quarters of my life I've waited for someone to acknowledge that my joint pain is linked, and not just a series of reoccurring unrelated sprains. And now I know what it is you'd think I'd finally be satisfied wouldn't you? If you'd asked me last week I'd have told you that that's EXACTLY what I wanted. Now I'm not sure.
I've read words such as 'acute', 'incurable', 'neurological', and it scares the pants off me (and I can't bend over to put them back on again!)
I've found myself this week saying things like, 'My rheumatologist says I've got.....', and 'Apparently I've got....', but I just can't bring myself to say, 'I've got...'.
I just can't say it.
It feels too real.
I suppose it's a case of be careful what you wish for.
Don't get me wrong, I'm really grateful that I'm going to receive the right treatment for my condition. That is certainly something to be positive about.
For the first time in months I can think about the possibility of skiing again next February, and hopefully walking the dog again over the summer, but at the moment I need to sort my head out that I've got this thing that isn't going away.
I want so much for this not to define me. I don't want to be the person with x,y or z. I want to be known for who I am, not what I've got, but at the moment it's all I can think about so I'm in real danger of becoming my disease.
On Tuesday I see my GP to start my new medication regime which will bring with it a whole new list of attractive side affects to deal with, so forgive me if my smile wains just slightly. Over the summer I will start the physiotherapy and exercise plan that will get me mobile again. It's going to hurt, but no pain no gain don't they say?
I'm aware that with help I will succeed in living with my symptoms.
I'm aware that without the support of my friends and family it would be a much harder journey.
I'm also aware that I haven't told you my diagnosis.
Frustrating isn't it?
http://www.ukfibromyalgia.com
