My status on Facebook, posted early evening yesterday, read as follows:
“Much of yesterday went far beyond the Gethsemane experience, more towards identity with the flaying on that early Friday morning. Just as one form of deep discomfort, of a tear and nausea inducng variety, seemed to be easing, elsewhere along the ley line of the nervous system came a sensation of searing tongs being applied to sundry areas of the upper limbs & armpits.
Application of supports (wrist, shoulder, back etc.) at times preceded a necessity to discard oppressive items of clothing, such as socks, cardigan, shirts. A necessity to spread out one’s fingers, their proximity to each other promoting a tingling dis-ease, was accompanied at times by a the need to clench upper arms in an almost impossible tightness to the torso, aided at times by having a scarf strapping them down. Lower limbs flexed and turned – so much so that I became unsure about how many of the positions were consciously attained as opposed to a rather sustained involuntary spasm. it seemed as if painkillers were refusing to act as burning searing discomfort imprisoned me for much of the late afternoon and evening.
That was yesterday. Today is a better day thus far. Really enjoyed the House Group / Bible Study chez nous this afternoon. A wonderful time of fellowship.”
Sadly, it was only a matter of a couple of hours before the torment returned. Even picking up the small tablet pc or a newspaper, instantly caused a gnawing discomfort in wrists and armpits and, clasping upper arms tightly to torso did little to alleviate the onset of a nausea sensation. I remained grateful for those afternoon hours of relative ease, hanging on to the gratitude response by way of compensation for the fresh onset of dis-ease.
Last night (from at least 02.30 this am) I had one of the most sustained periods of sound sleep than I’d experienced in more months than I can remember; that certainly seemed a good omen for the belatedly entered new day. The sense of being enfleshed in an undersized skin soon returned and much wrist-strapping, arm clenching (tightly to torso) was required. As ailments seemed to ease, my beloved and I ventured out for a meal at the local eatery, a pre-emptive celebration for our upcoming anniversary. It seemed a good opportunity to dine out, as on both Thursday and Friday I have hospital appointments to attend at around the apposite time, and other arrangements already in hand for tomorrow.
No sooner had we been seated at a suitable table than the act of holding a simple menu card released discomfort in the armpits and upper limbs. I just wanted to scream out loud, take off jumper and shirt before clasping shoulders with both hands – arms crossed in St Andrew’s fashion. This particular treat was not to be, so we returned home to catch up on a TV programme (‘Trapped’) that we’d missed on Saturday. At least at home I could clasp myself tightly, whilst sitting shirtless with arms firmly at attention. Meanwhile I sought out my toe separators to place between discomforted / discomforting fingers in a vain attempt to eliminate bouts of nausea.
Armpits seem to serve solely to alienate me from my body at present but, hopefully. a fresh dose of tramadol will eliminate the still too pervasive pain.