I realise it’s been a fair old while since I delivered any news or updates concerning the ongoing saga of shoulders, sarcoids and other general tales from a hospital ward and being as there has been some amount of cage rattling relating to a posting I made some months ago, it has given me a moment of inspiration to put pen to paper, or more precisely fingers to keyboard and tippety tappety some of the things which have been happening recently.

I recall that in my last missive I had just commenced a course of physiotherapy with a chap named Neil. I feel a little disappointed by this, as he is in no way the most attractive of the available physiotherapists. Indeed, when he was away one week, I had the pleasure of meeting Jacinta, an attractive blonde with a talent for massage. This intimate relationship was doomed only to last for about 20 minutes[1] and it’s been Neil ever since.

At first he had a plan to try and manipulate the vertebrae[2] and loosen stuff up, as though it were some kind of stiff neck issue. This caused a slow downslide into even more pain as my system violently rejected this approach as a particularly bad idea. In addition, the silly exercises were both hard to get done right and also seemed to be doing me more harm than good. Again therefore, that idea was ditched in favour of some easier exercises and some of what is described as “soft tissue work” but realistically means a short snooze on the physio bed whilst getting a bit of a back rub.

Of course such luxuries as a lunchtime snooze in the hospital once a week could not continue without some form of punishment and this came in the form of the suggestion of accupuncture. This apparently to desensitize the area. I would have preferred a solution which fixed the problem in the area, but I’ll settle for this in the meantime.

On an unrelated note, I feel that winter has finally arrived.

I awoke this morning[3] to find the whole area had turned white with a deep frost.

Well, that’s not strictly true. I awoke, dragged myself in the usual state of despair which accompanies having to get up after anything less than 12 hours of sleep (sarcoidosis is a bitch), vaguely got my shit together and then left thehouse to find the aforementioned weather situation. I am pleased to report thatthe heated front windscreen of my mondeo made short work of the nastiness andthat I was on my way in no time.

It’s quite odd living (literally) on the edge of town. I use a little backroad (with passing places!) as a shortcut to the main road towards Batley,which takes me through some farmland used for a variety of equines, mostly ponies. They were all standing about in their white, frost covered fields, and generally looking like they would much rather by in my nice warm car. The fun and cavorting of the summer months[4] long since gone and now replaced by a general horsey malaise of “by ‘eck lad, it’s a bit nippy this morning.”. Equines it seems, much like humans, have an intense capacity to indicate their hated of freezing cold, damp misery.

To return to the main point, I think the accupuncture has done me some good. Certainly it does seem like the pain isn’t quite so bad and I’m a bit less stiff. I have now been given exercises that involve stretching a large rubber strap around my head and doing neck strengthening stuff. This improvement has also led to my pain consultant discharging me for the time being, so all in all the horrible shoulder thing is, mostly, under control. I’m still taking plenty of painkillers and so on, but they work most of the time and though it’s still a lot of meds, it’s a lot less meds than it was six months ago!

I have also recently visited my sarcoidosis consultant, Dr Paul Beirne. Or well, actually I haven’t.

First of all they did a full set of lung function tests. This involved sitting in a strange box whilst some kind of highly trained nurse/technician type had me perform a variety of breathing[5] exercises in a sealed box full of tubes. This gave a set of results which, for once, were completely incomprehensible to me and might just as well have been written in Farsi. I didn’t like that as I normally have at least some idea about whatever it is the doctors are talking about, but lung function tests appear to yield a set of meaningless numbers without useful context to judge anything.

After this and a quick pit stop at X-Ray so they could photograph my chest. They were quite adamant I was standing wrong. How can I stand wrong? I’ve got my chest up to the plate and am standing in the “standard position” that I’ve been put in by a hundred radiographers for a hundred CXR[6] before, but oh no – today it’s not right and they want me to stand in the position most designed to make my shoulder hurt. I am pleased to report that after some growly ouchy noises, I got to stand as I felt was correct, which also is a not hurty position.

Then I had the pleasure of sitting in a waiting room for what seemed like forever, before finally not getting to see Dr Paul, but instead a registrar. She may well have been qualified in medicine, but certainly was not qualified in basic spoken English. Sadly a complete waste of time. The letter that arrived some time afterward (copy of what went to my GP) was quite obviously a failure to understand any of my concerns and somehow had reached the conclusion that I am a smoker[8] and had got the particular symptoms concerning me completely wrong. I think I shall have to write back to the clinic and set it all straight. I’ve already visited my GP to correct any misgivings he may have.

What I can say about the visit is that the CXR was unchanged, my sarcoid is therefore no better and no worse. Ho hum.

Situation normal then.

[1] Now I come to think about it, I’m fairly sure that other kinds of intimate relationships can be purchased in 20 minute blocks, so I’m not sure what that says about physiotherapy departments.
[2] I saw a thing on the web recently about how people now use google to check spelling instead of a dictionary. Guilty.
[3] You understand the morning in question not necessarily the same morning of publishing this article, but some other morning when I was writing this stuff.
[4] Yes, Alicia – It can be quite pleasant to observe, especially when the baby ones[7] are playing.
[5] Deep, Heavy and Panting. Probably recorded for use on the foley stage of “those” kinds of films.
[6] That’s Doctor shorthand for chest x-ray, and appears on all the letters they send around.
[7] The proprieter of the local chippy thinks they get sold to make dog food, but I am reliably informed that this is not the case.
[8] I’m a former smoker, been off the evil nic for years now.