Tag Archives: Lyrica

A Bit Twisted …

iceI never use normally use the word ‘twisted’, but this is two blog posts in a row now.

From ‘twisty-turny path’ of my last one to a real, live twist in this one.

Am I actually clairvoyant?

I twisted my knee yesterday.

Of all the things to do and in such a random way. I don’t know about you guys but sometimes messages take a little longer to get from my brain to the correct bits of my body. So, I’m standing there, in work, knowing I want to turn. Most of my body does, except my lower legs and feet.

Snap. Pop. Twang. Something went in the back of my knee. It hurt, and then it didn’t, so I carried on.

A couple of hours later, I was in agony. All evening I slapped bags of frozen parsnips on it (I hate parsnips, no idea why I bought them) and elevated it. Painful doesn’t begin to describe it. As it was a Saturday night, there was no point going to A&E, so I took some Nurofen, watched ‘Strictly Come Dancing’ and shuffled slowly to bed.

This morning, I got up early and took myself off to the emergency department. Or rather, I limped. The pain was excruciating and triggered every nerve cell which is normally kept at bay by the neuropathic pain meds I take. I was a bit of a fizzing mess.

After triage, an x-ray and a consultation, I was told to rest, but keep moving. Move, but rest. And then prescribed the strongest painkillers they were allowed to and given a leaflet about knee injuries.

I felt like being brave so I went to work (I know, right?), where I took the first painkillers. The Boss had made coffee, so it was worth turning up just for that. Anyway, within half an hour, I was pain-free and ever so slightly out of it. Perhaps I shouldn’t have gone to work, but the thought of being laid-up at home reminded me too much of a relapse.

I got home, discovered the cat had left a poo on one of my rugs, realised I was out of milk and began to feel sorry for myself. Time for some more painkillers. And maybe a different kind of ice …

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Pass Me The Spanner, Numpty

beautifulA most interesting day at work, what with the higher dose of Pregabalin settling down – it was a bit like ER, with The Builder subtly creating all the drama:


‘Yup, Boss.’


‘Yup, Boss.’


‘Yup, Boss.’


‘Well, I have The Best of The 80’s?’ or ‘Simon and Garfunkle’.

‘Plumbing tape, you numpty’.

‘Yup, Boss. Just joking.’

And so it continued. I floated around, munching on granola bars and slurping endless cups of coffee (mine was the pink ‘Hello Kitty’ mug, the Boss got the ‘Mr Busy’ one). I seem to be having a mini-relapse since upping the Pregablin dose – my hands moving a few seconds too late or too early, feet not moving properly or dragging, dropping things and generally feeling spaced out.

A few hours later, we wrapped it up and I was dropped off at home.

The most important thing is, my nerve pain has been reduced drastically and it’s a feeling that goes way beyond relief – the nagging, crawling, aching pain in my legs every evening, making the smallest tasks impossible, has been knocked back down to just my feet. Which isn’t brilliant, but a whole lot better than before.

I can now stand up properly when The Teenager gets back from school, and look semi-parent like. I no longer lie on the sofa all evening, dreading getting up. I can read a book without the constant, nagging pain pulsing away, ruining everything.

The downside is I still feel as if I’m trapped in a marshmallow cushion. I can’t concentrate. I am very, very slow. Everything is now somehow wondrous. When I cooked pesto pasta for The Teenager this evening, I spent an inordinate amount of time just staring at the sauce after I took the lid off. So green, so pesto-y, so, well, wondrous.

I’m sure it’ll pass and my mind will realign itself with my body again (by the weekend, PLEASE). But for now, as my body refuses to do what I command it to and my mind is somewhere completely different, I will make the most of stopping to pick up leaves from the garden, turning them over and marvelling at their unique patterns, and allow myself to admire the beautiful, brown, shiny spheres that are … Maltesers. Beautiful.

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