The pain, the pain!

Isn't that a phrase from Bugs Bunny or something: "The pain, the pain!" Or maybe I'm thinking of "Da plane! Da plane!" from Fantasy Island. Last night was bad. After my brother and his family had visited, I fell asleep on the couch, and, as before when I was temporarily not taking the NSAID, when I awoke the upper-back pain was so intense that moving upstairs and getting into bed was a huge production. The pain from the surgery adds to the problem, but the pain and pressure in my spine and ribs is worse than anything I've ever experienced. I don't like to take codeine at night, though; I have sleep apnea and I don't need something else that makes me stop breathing, plus once I get settled into bed, I usually sleep pretty well. It's getting there that's murder.

I got smart this time and brought a glass of water and my Tylenol 3s upstairs with me, and took a couple before I even got out of bed this morning. Still doing a little screaming unless I lie down. But when I lie down, eventually the other part of the back pain kicks in -- a big, hard knot in my left shoulder blade that burns and itches along with the pain.

So I just took an NSAID, bruising be damned, and I hope it will be effective. This has been going on for months, and the doctors are being very vague. Because of all the hardware in my spine, they can't get a really good picture, and they're talking about bone metastasis but also possible bone thinning caused by the cancer-prevention drug I've been taking, resulting in microfractures. Or both.

I wanna take a shower! I look like hell. Rosemary is coming over soon; her work involves giving gentle movement sessions (with a focus on laughter and fun) for women who've just had breast surgery, to help them regain range of motion in the arm and prevent lymphedema. So I'll be in good hands for my first attempt at exercise today. The hospital sent me home with exactly nothing in the way of post-surgery instructions [UPDATE: THE SURGEON'S NURSE DID GIVE ME A BOOKLET ON EXERCISE, AMONG OTHERS, BEFORE THE SURGERY, AND I SHOVED THEM ALL IN A CORNER AND FAILED TO NOTICE THE EXERCISE INSTRUCTIONS TILL NINE DAYS AFTER THE OPERATION], but I think I may have the stuff I got five years ago, complete with exercise diagrams. The home-care nurse is coming today to look at the dressing and the drain, which I've been draining myself.

What would I do without drugs? I've always been a reluctant drug-taker; most of the pain I've had in my life hasn't been very amenable to painkillers in any case, but I also tend not to want to kill pain that I don't understand or know the cause of -- I want to be able to feel and report what my body is telling me. But this pain has become intolerable. And yet -- what if the cause of the pain is the cancer-prevention drug I've been taking for three years?

Pollyanna moment: After I got home from the hospital with Robin, I decided to take a nap, and went out like a light for two hours. When I woke up, I thought, "Funny the phone hasn't rung." Then Robin and I realized the phone had been off the hook, and a damn good thing, too; otherwise, we wouldn't have got a nap at all. I should do that more often (though I really appreciated all the kind phone messages). I felt lousy when I woke up, and discovered I had a temperature of 100.5 degrees. It was 4:45 p.m. on a Friday, but I thought maybe my surgeon's secretary could advise me if she was still in the office. I called and who should pick up the phone but Dr. McCharm himself! He coos, he laughs, he strokes my hand, he adjusts my pillows, he even answers his own phone! He said that if I were getting an infection it wouldn't be happening so quickly. "We were mean to you," he said, which is his way of saying, You've just had surgery, of course you feel like crap. Robin made me chicken soup and a lovely frittata and I felt better soon. And my nephews made me the sweetest card.