I never made it to the workshop in Swindon, as another rough night had left me not feeling safe enough to drive. On the Saturday I got out on the bike. I just did a mile or so around Balmoral Drive and Horn’s Drove, but felt ok for it. Definitely felt it was a positive start to my aim of cycling to work in February.
I had a bit of a mixed week. I’d cut the tramadol to every other night, and didn’t feel any worse for it. In fact, the days after the nights I’d not taken it didn’t seem any different to those when I had taken it the evening before – same amount of constant pain in my back, and the sharp stabbing pains around my upper torso were not noticeably different. In fact, on Saturday I think I felt the best I have for months. I went out for a longer ride in the afternoon, about 2.5 miles in total. I followed the first part of my route to work, turning back before the dip and hill up to the hospital. I took it easy and felt fine when I got back, the only real issue being once again tripping as I got on and off the bike, my legs just not knowing where they are to avoid kicking the rear rack as I swung my left (most wobbly) leg over. I really must break the habit of getting on from the right and see if swinging my right leg over is any better.
By the evening I was pretty knackered and I fell asleep curled up on the sofa next to Cat. When I awoke I was extremely uncomfortable and it took me a while to get sorted to the point I could get up to bed. I had an extremely rough night, needing the loo 3 times, and each time having more pain and much more wobbly. By the time I finally woke around 6.30 I was in agony. It almost felt like I was at the stage of being in hospital the day after surgery, only without the benefit of a nurse on hand to give me some morphine. I took my normal pain meds, and about 8.30 took a tramadol as well. It was another couple of hours before I could get out of bed, and even then I only made the effort because I felt any position would be more comfortable than lying down. Cat helped me get downstairs, I had a walk – well wobble gingerly – around, and then sat in my armchair. Almost immediately I felt like I needed to go to bed to get more comfortable, but then remembered why I’d got up in the first place. Over the course of the morning and afternoon the pain did ease up a bit, but it is the worst day I’ve had in a long while, possibly since hospital.
I had a rough night again. Better than Saturday night, but still not good. I was already due to work at home, and quickly started to question whether I was going to be able to get to London tomorrow for another of the workshops I should e gone to Swindon for last week. In the end I decided it was going to be a bad idea, so I gave my apologies, and instead opted to do 50:50 work and time owing (from being on call on New Year’s Day) over the two days. Best laid plans and all that – I didn’t actually stop working until 7pm. Maybe I’ll get that 50:50 split tomorrow instead.