On a pain scale of 1-10, in which 10 is passing out, this was a 9

I"m too lazy to mess around with the template code to get the picture to line up in the header banner, but I decided to make a change.

Yesterday was my visit to the radiologist for the cortisone injection into the shoulder joint. Because I am allergic to iodides, and the tracing fluid has iodine in it, they decided to do the injection "by feel." They used the X-ray machine to locate the spot, drew an X, and then gave me a numbing agent. Then the doctor inserted the surgical needle. It hurt like hell, so he pulled it out and tried again. This time, he slipped it in the right spot, and pushed in the lidocaine and the meds. It's not a pleasant feeling, and they warned me that the joint capsule might hurt later because of the extra fluid, but we were all happy it seemed to work out, and that I didn't break out in hives or have an allergic attack.

I had to bring a driver, but I felt fine for the several hours afterward. Then the lidocaine wore off and I spent the rest of the evening in the most excruciating pain I have ever experienced in my life: worse than when I broke my foot, worse that the appendicitis, worse than childbirth (at least what I remember of it, because that memory of pain has faded, no doubt due to the intrathecal morphine I got at the end). I felt as if my entire arm and side were exploding with pain. No position made a difference. I could move it, but every move was agony. Since I had gone with some friends to see Sweeny Todd, I couldn't tell how much of my pain was physical and how much was psychic at having to watch Johnny Depp slit several throats in bloody close-up while singing about Joanna! Yikes. Talk about a nightmare. I love me some Tim Burton, but the throat-cutting was way beyond my gore tolerance level.

Once I got home, I called the after-hours nurse line to make sure that I wasn't having an allergic reaction (no problems breathing, no rash), took four aspirin and four sleeping pills and went to bed with an ice-pack. This morning, the agony is gone, it just hurts in a more normal way, as if I sprained something. They told me that I would have some discomfort, but they freakin' lied. They should have said, "Here, take this Vicodin, curl up in bed and be prepared for your entire right side to feel as if it is on fire." I'm still pissed that they didn't give me any pain-killers, but the worst is over. Now I have to see if the result is that I can increase my mobility by keeping up with my physical therapy routine. I refuse to think that this was a mistake, YET, but I have to wonder if he hit a nerve the first time he inserted the needle.

Relief!

This morning the orthopedist gave me an injection of cortisone in my right shoulder joint to alleviate the inflammation of the bursa. It relieved the pain almost immediately, although I still have limited range of motion. She has also authorized physical therapy twice a week. It will probably take several months to recover, but right now, I am so grateful that the pain that was taking over my waking and sleeping hours is gone.
So here is a Thank You song, from Sly and the Family Stone, my hometown faves.