Fuck the pain away: A cancer story

I went to the physio today to deal with my slipped disc which has now been a major problem since the end of August when I was still living in Bristol, and barring a month or so of it being manageable after moving to Glasgow became utterly debilitating in December to the point where there’s been days where I’ve been unable to leave the flat.

So for the last couple of weeks I’ve been on Amitriptyline, an anti-depressant also used to treat severe back pain and it’s helped, but during my New Year in darkest Cheshire,  the pain was at times unbearable which made my time less enjoyable than I’d have liked. Today though was my first physio appointment and hopefully the start of getting back to at least how I was from April til August last year where my mobility was hard due to the stroke, but not as hard, or painful as now. To say I wasn’t impressed is an understatement. The physio clearly hadn’t read my medical records and clearly treated me with suspicion from the off, which I can understand as I was seen in Shettleston in Glasgow which happens to be a ”problematic” area,  but that level of questioning could have been avoided by checking my records.

Anyhow, cutting a long story short it was clear the physio was only interested in listening about the pain from the slipped disc, but seemed at best, dismissive of how the stroke affected me and as for my cancer; asked if it’s spreading to my bones which frankly, skimmed over my head til a few hours later. I’m currently in massive amounts of (medicated) pain but because the physio seems to have done something right, I’m a bit more mobile while feeling a new sort of pain that may, or may not, be a good thing.

Still, it’s the GP on Monday to go over things and at the end of this month my (hopefully) last cancer treatment kicks off. I’ve got to work out what to do when I’m fitter and recuperated too and I’ll be talking about that next time round.

As for now it’s ow, ow, ow, ow…

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