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| A Cold Reception |
I am happy to report that things are moving along with the
treatment of my long-term shoulder problem…
A few weeks ago I went to the hospital to see a
consultant from the orthopaedic team.
I was called into a small curtained booth and a woman
rushed in and clipped an x-ray picture of (hopefully) my shoulder onto the light
box.
While I was waiting I took the opportunity to study it.
Apart from marvelling at how thin my arm bones were, I couldn’t help but notice
the offending calcification in the shoulder. A glowing white sizeable chunk of
chalk in the shape of a tulip.
Then the consultant, dressed in a white laboratory coat, breezed
in through the curtains and glanced at the x-ray. “Aha! Yes!” he said almost
gleefully. “Right, yes, that must be very painful. We’ll give you a steroid
injection and see you again in six weeks.”
“What now?” I asked with no small degree of alarm in my
voice. Surely they would have to have a think about it for a few months.
“Yes, now. Take your top off and face that way.” he
replied, deftly unwrapping a rather large syringe.
A few seconds later and it was all over with.
Over the following days, after some initial soreness, it
slowly dawned on me that my shoulder didn’t hurt any more. It felt comfortable,
wonderfully comfortable.
On top of that, yesterday I had my first physiotherapy
session...
I walked into the clinic and approached the hatch marked “Reception”.
In the room behind the hatch sat a woman who was using
scissors to carefully cut up what looked to be a notice of some kind.
I waited quietly while she slowly cut along one length.
I read a notice next to the hatch “If you are here for a
blood test just take a seat.”
The woman was still engrossed.
I read another notice “If you are here for the Mother and
Baby club just take a seat.”
I gently crumpled my appointment letter in a
non-confrontational bid to attract the woman’s attention.
She continued cutting but I noticed her clench her teeth.
I coughed quietly.
She whipped her head towards me and snapped “Are you here
for a blood test?”
“Hi, No, I’m…”
“Mother and Baby club?” she interrupted.
“No, I’m here for a physiotherapy appointment with…”
“Just take a seat” she sighed and indicated towards the
seats with her scissors.
I sat down as directed.
A man appeared from a side room and called me in. He was
wearing a pilled sweatshirt with a polo shirt beneath. This seems to be a
popular uniform these days from zoo keepers to the girl at the local DIY shop.
The physiotherapist asked me a series of questions and
entered my responses onto his laptop before the phone rang. “Sorry, do you mind
if I get this?” he asked.
I looked around the room while I waited.
I was most encouraged to see a walking stick hanging from
the curtain rail, obviously no longer needed I thought.
I read a few of the many notices tacked around the room. “Do
not lock this door. It is a fire door.” “Wash your hands.” “Sharps only in this
bin. No general rubbish.”
After the physiotherapist had finished his phone
conversation he asked me to move my arms in various directions. “Hmm, that
shoulder blade is winging out. The other one is nice and flat. OK we need to
give you some exercises to gently build up the muscle in that area.” He said
and got up onto the therapy bed on his hands and knees.
He showed me a few different manoeuvres. Leaning forward
then back then side-to-side. Then lying on his front and lifting his arms back.
I watched with interest.
“Right, I’ll make another appointment for a few weeks’
time.” He said as he struggled off the couch and lurched towards the desk.
“Oh. OK then.” I said, clearly a note of disappointment
in my voice.
“Would you like me to draw the exercises for you?”
I thought that I would remember them but said that I
would indeed like a drawing and watched while he drew stick figures and arrows.
I thanked him, and made another appointment before
leaving.
The receptionist was pinning up another notice next to
her hatch. I didn’t bother to read it.
