Rolling A Joint
by John Walker on Oct.06, 2005, under The Rest
Oh dear, I appear to be somewhat broken inside.
Today I went to the rheumatologist. After having learned of the source of all my power, hypermobility syndrome, I had assumed it all to be relatively mundane. Which made the list of notes received from the doctor a little surprising.
I’m never quite sure how to be when I’m at the doctor. I go as rarely as possible, and when I have to I’m utterly terrified of being thought of as a hypochondriac, so play down any symptoms I may have to ensure they don’t think I’m a whackjob. So I end up saying, “Well, I don’t mind that those organs keep falling out the wound, I suppose. I just thought I should get it checked out as I’ve heard that livers should be on the inside, or something, whatever, sorry to be a trouble.” Today I think I struck a good balance of Not A Loon, but actually wanting something done about things. And the horrid pain in my left arm right now is my body’s way of thanking me.
It turns out, I’ll probably need an operation on my left arm. How urgently I need this done is to be determined by some tests they will perform where they will electrocute my nerves. I’m wondering, is it bad when the doctor is wearing a long, black trenchcoat, and a hat with a skull on the front?
They also took blood and urine (well, I volunteered the urine with my own urine-dispensing ability, brought to the surgery in a Buxton Mineral Water bottle with one of those squeezy cap things. I chose this with the hope of some hilarious sitcom-style apple juice mix up incident, but sadly this failed to materialise. The blood was more forcefully removed, as no matter which muscle I squeezed, it all stayed on the inside).
Apparently I’m to be sent for physio to see if my joints can be coerced into working normally, AND to some special classes that teach you How To Live With Being Broken, which I think suggests a pessimistic expectation of the physio. The doctor filled in about four hundred forms, each of which had to be put in a different coloured tray, where it was whipped away by a nursemonkey within seconds. Very efficient.
So much for being super-powered. It transpires that all this bendiness only offers being five or six times more likely to develop osteoarthritis. That’s not quite as exciting as I’d hoped.
AND Laura beat me at Scrabble by 60 points.
Man.
October 7th, 2005 on 11:05
Young Sarah is always cracking her joints, but she thinks that taking evening primrose oil is helping. Suck it and see? Obviously it’s not going to be a magic cure. Perhaps you should go to one of those faith healing services in Bath? :-)
October 7th, 2005 on 11:19
:(
October 7th, 2005 on 11:44
Of course evening primrose oil isn’t going to do anything. But the placebo industry is probably important to someone.
Sadly cracking joints, and having joints that are hypermobile, are not the same it seems.
October 7th, 2005 on 12:06
I heartily recommend Placebos, they seem to work on everything.
Particularly the strawberry flavoured ones. Mmmmmm.