Tag Archives: pain pills

It’s Only a Flesh Wound

28 Jun

I don’t know what it is with men and medicine.

The Squire suffers from Charcot-Marie-Tooth syndrome (named for the two French doctors and one Englishman who zeroed in on it), which is an hereditary nerve condition. The nerves die and the muscles atrophy, pulling against the bones. If it “kicks in” when you are a child, the bones twist to accommodate the muscles, but if you get it as an adult, the patient frequently opts to have the foot amputated, as the pain is simply excruciating. As it is, The Squire often has nights when he is very uncomfortable.

His nightly routine is two Tylenol PM, which don’t always control the pain. When his feet hurt, the only way to soothe the pain is to keep the foot moving. Jiggle, jiggle, jiggle. Naturally, this doesn’t do me a bit of good, but when I suggest he go sleep  in the guest room, he assures me he is fine.

That’s nice, dear. Now, go away. You bother me!

My dad used to lean against the door frame and moan, and I’m not sure which is worse. If my mum didn’t stab Daddy with a paring knife, I guess I can avoid smothering The Squire with a pillow.

I’ve recommended he ask the doctor for something stronger, if only to take on a PRN basis. “That isn’t necessary.”

When I had my neck surgery in September, I was given a months-worth of surgical strength pain medicine, to take every four to six hours, so I have loads of the stuff left over. Blithely disregarding Federal laws, I strongly suggested he take one of my little white pills. Just to shut me up, y’know.  So finally, about a month ago, he did agree to take one of them, and announced he’d had the best night’s sleep he’d had in ages. (That made two of us.) A few days later he again requested a pain pill. Maybe we’re making some progress; I even put the bottle with his other meds, but No, we’re back to the Tylenol.

Last night, he said he got up at 1 AM, took two more Tylenol, and slept in the other room. I never noticed he was missing.

But I did sleep well.



Second Verse, Much Worse!

19 Sep

Well, I’d been warned that hand surgery would be a bear, but that only begins to describe it. The pain is just incredible.

We had to be at the Surgical Center at 7 AM yesterday – NPO, again – and I opted for a general anesthetic rather than a local. The doctor showed us what he would do – open the side of my right hand to reposition my thumb, and then pull a tendon from my forearm to tie the thumb in place.  When I first floated to the surface, the local anesthetic was still working, so I wasn’t in too much pain – maybe a 5 or so. After two cups of apple juice, the nurse said, “Give a number” and without a thought I told her “42”. It took us both a few seconds to get that sorted out. The Squire helped me get dressed; I’d worn a muumuu, which made life easier, and we were back home around 11:00.

I slept off the rest of the anesthesia in the recliner while The Squire got my prescription filled, had a cup of coffee and a pain pill, and slept most of yesterday and today. I’ve been in a drug induced haze most of the day, sleeping here and there – the sofa, the recliner, the bed – while The Squire and Blazer hover in the background making sure I don’t fall over or stand up and forget where I am, and head off in the wrong direction. Homemade soup and bagels for whatever meal you want to call it when we ate at 1:00 today, and I am about ready to collapse again. Heaven only knows how people survived before modern pain meds.

I have an appointment to get this cast removed next Friday, and then I will get either a smaller cast or a Velcro “thing” to hold my thumb in place for another couple of weeks. Knowing how easy it will be to accept the temptation  to remove the Velcro job, I’ll probably ask for the smaller cast.