It has been a gruelling few weeks (months) since MyMan started on his course of physiotherapy. The 'Back to Fitness' course left him far worse than when he started. Each week he'd go over to Exeter hospital - an hour long journey for a one and a half hour session of relatively easy exercises. With the hour drive home again it meant he'd leave here at 8 a.m and reach home by 11.30. I loved having some time to myself. And it was good that he was becoming independent driving himself again. (Having confidence in the safety of our new car helped. Until Toyota started the massive recall that is . . .)
The whole event would wipe him out for the rest of the week. Just as he'd start to recover he was then facing the next session. Pain levels have increased and his muscles seem to be even weaker. Friends have been shocked to see that he has great difficulty climbing stairs. And his concentration, focus and ability to string more than a few sentences together have deserted him. So far by being quiet and reclusive he has hidden how weak and mentally fragile he has become. To socialise once in a while he's been able to don a mask of 'normality' for a couple of hours. The last few weeks he's been unable to do so. Suddenly everyone is realising the shocking truth. He is not the man they used to know.
Tomorrow (my birthday) he is to go to very early to the hospital once again. This time he is to have steroid injections in the sacroiliac joint(s). Neither of us know what to expect. Our hopes were raised over the last procedure. If this doesn't help he feels unable to continue with any more treatments. He believes that 'enough is enough'.