Being A Human Pincushion

I probably should’ve written this post closer to when these events actually happened, but, life.

I’ve made no secret that I’m not a fan of in office medical procedures, especially those that can and often are performed in an OR. It’s not due to fear of needles, but rather a dislike for the planning and upkeep involved. Call me crazy, and most people have, but I prefer a longer recovery for a “one and done” thing. Plus, I’m not good with keeping track of things that need to be regularly scheduled. If it doesn’t need to happen at least once a week or twice a year it just escapes me.

So imagine how happy I was to have 2 in office procedures scheduled for one day. It helps in the planning in one aspect but not in others.

I’ve accepted the idea that Botox injections once a year, with a few rounds of trigger point injections during the year, works for me. I’m still not a big fan but I’ve accepted it until another plan actually works.

I have yet to fully accept that the best course of treatment for lingering muscle strain is a regularly scheduled cortisone injection, even though I know every other alternative is less than preferable. The doctor in charge of managing my strain knows my concerns, so much so that she addresses them at each visit taking things on a case by case basis even though I think we’ve reached the point of a sustainable treatment plan.

I didn’t want to get Botox and Cortisone on the same day, but at the same time I just wanted to get it over with.

The Botox came first mostly because I know that 99% of the time the doctor in charge of that isn’t late. So there was little chance that the day would get backed up, but I did leave my mom in the waiting room with everyone’s contact information, just in case.

The appointment itself went OK aside from the fact that there’s another new medical assistant who asked me if I had fallen in the last 3 months. My guess is she’s not aware of the fact that people with CP can’t go 3 days without falling never mind 3 months.

I talked my way out of anesthetic and there were no residents hanging around so it was a pleasant appointment overall. Trigger point injections are scheduled for about a month from now but that can be moved up or back depending on how I’m feeling.

Then I was off to hospital #2 for the cortisone.

I actually don’t mind these kinds of appointments either the waiting and procedure prep (which is really just more waiting) is far from my favorite, especially when they ask you to arrive at least 15-20 minutes prior to your appointment. It’s times like this when I would actually bring something to read or other work, if it wasn’t for the need for a sterile environment. I realize that bringing a book probably won’t make a difference but I’d rather not take the chance with a very large needle going very close to my femoral artery, any and all chances for infection and/or bleeding need to be kept at a minimum.

What I neglected to realize when scheduling these appointments was that I would probably be jumpier than usual on the second round of sticks. I know there’s a high likelihood as is that my muscles may jump at the exact moment I need to stay completely still.

My PM&R knows this and knows just how to pin me down & stick me with only 2 hands at his disposal, although he could call someone else in he doesn’t need to.

The sports medicine staff has been more than accommodating when I tell them they’re going to have to pin me down even after anesthetic has taken effect.

As a result of my extra jumpiness I was given more anesthetic prior to the cortisone injection. So much so that I couldn’t feel a thing from my waist to my knee. It came to me pretty quickly that I was not told to bring crutches or my wheelchair to the appointment and I would need something to just get off the table, never mind put my shoes on, walk back down the hall, and then walk out to the car.

Thankfully I did have my wheelchair in the car so while I was resting for the mandatory 10-15 minutes I told my mom to go get the wheelchair and bring it in, because this time they were not going to let me go without using some assistive device.

I had scheduled a follow up in case I wasn’t feeling too great but that day has come and gone so I’ll schedule another appointment when I feel I need it, which will probably come in a few months.

At the end of the day, although it was long and got increasingly uncomfortable as the day wore on, I probably would be a “pincushion for the day” again. I would come better prepared however, like having one time use icepacks in the car, or asking for an extra when leaving my appointments, and having some OTC painkillers on standby.

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One thought on “Being A Human Pincushion

  1. Pingback: Being A Human Pincushion (part II) | Most Usually Unusual

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