'I have a dream........'

Saturday 22nd September.

I awoke this morning, pulled back the quilt, swung my legs out and over the side of the bed and sat up. Then I stood up, opened the bedroom door and walked along the landing to the bathroom.

How dull, how prosaic is that?

But then it struck me - Sat up? Stood up? Walked to the bathroom? This was far from prosaic - this was, in fact, extra-bl**dy-ordinary, fan-bl**dy-tastic. (You may think the *s unnecessary - but in such matters I remain very 'old-school').

So, by way of explanation, let me take you through, what has become, my normal morning routine - wake, pull quilt aside, use my arm to lever myself into a sitting position, stand with the assistance of my fingers splayed against the bedroom wall, wobble and hobble along the landing using the banister and wall for support as some grudging, grinding mobility returns to my knees and perpendicularity to my spine. When I then descend the stairs I do so with that 'old-man', deliberateness, thinking hard about which foot follows which and again making judicious use of banister and wall.

But  today, I go down as I used to go down - presumptuously, unthinkingly, unhandedly as though my joints and particularly my spine had been oiled with WD40 (not as Di's mother, Jill, once famously malaproped when confronted with a rusty lock - 'any UB40?')

This could only be the 'epidural dividend' - paid less than 24 hours after I had undergone the procedure at the QEH on Friday morning (just one day after the appointment with the oncologist (see 20th September post) . For those of you who have the staying power and good memories - you may recall that I had a procedure at the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital nearly a year ago (see post 23rd November 2011). I thought at the time that this had been an epidural but was disabused of that notion when I was referred to the QEH pain clinic. Apparently, I'd had something called a 'nerve block', a more targeted procedure than an epidural. The latter  entails injecting painkillers and steroids into the spinal column's epidural space and flooding the area in an attempt to 'block the transmission of signals through nerves in or near the spinal cord'.

Tuesday 25th September

Three days have now passed.  That Saturday morning I was euphoric. Diana and Joe were convinced that I was singing in the shower. I was in fact intoning, annotating, exulting in Martin Luther King's famous address to the civil rights crowd from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial ('I have a dream....................) It just came to me. ('Let freedom ring...........' ) To have some mobility back after such a lengthy time was liberating ('Free at last!. Free at last!') but I think it caused me to overdo things that day ('I may not get there with you............').   After my exertion in the shower (!) I attended an allotments conference in the city in the afternoon before walking through town to meet up with Joe and then watch a movie at the Electric Cinema on Station Street. 

For most of you, I'm sure that such a programme would be a very modest achievement but not for me. I realised then that, whatever the improvements, there remained some serious limitations. As I write on Tuesday morning, I know that the 'neurological pain' in my left leg is still there (and possibly worse?) and the 'gross mechanical pain' in my back is still there too. There is however, the prospect of further change. I was told that it could be weeks before the cocktail of drugs had their full effect.

I must add that once again, I am full of gratitude and admiration for the 'slickness' of the operation and for the professionalism of the staff at the QEH. The entire epidural procedure took a few hours only because I was towards the end of the list but everyone was very accommodating and pleasant.

And I don't know if such a competition exists but for bringing me to a state of shower-shouting celebration last Saturday, the surgeon gets my vote for 'clinician of the year'.