Pain can be a real pain

without stating the obvious

I’ve had a pretty shitty May, tempered with some absolute delight.

All month, I’ve had a pain in my left knee.

I went from a slight pain in my knee but still able to walk, to using one old crutch I found in the garage, to two crutches hired to me by my physio.

I went from the occasional Panadol to slow-release Voltaren to just normal old pharmacy-only Voltaren 25, taken every four or five hours—until my stomach hurt. The pain did not reduce.

Peak pain arrived the day I was due to go to Auckland for my son Arlo’s graduation. I had serious misgivings about my ability to function, but I was determined to be there for him and to celebrate this massive milestone.

Proud moment.

Of course, there’s so much that happens at a graduation that means you need to be on your feet. Photos taken in Albert Park. More pictures at the Law School. A walk back to university for a luncheon. A trek down to Spark Arena for the ceremony. Then, a stumble to the restaurant celebration, via drinks at a bar.

Earlier that afternoon, I received the results from my X-ray. Nothing.

The doctor upgraded my ultrasound to “Urgent”. I saw the written request. It stated, “Within 48 hours.” When I got back to Wellington, I phoned the radiology company to check my appointment. They told me it wasn’t urgent and they couldn’t see me for three weeks. I asked them how they could determine it wasn’t urgent if they hadn’t seen me. No response, other than this is the appointment—take it or leave it. I took it. It’s booked for 6 June.

The same weekend I was in Auckland, I went to the Auckland Writers Festival. I saw some fantastic writers:

Kaliane Bradley talked about her book, The Ministry of Time.

John Connell, who beamed in from Ireland—he wrote Twelve Sheep: Life Lessons from a Lambing Season.

David Nicholls, who wrote the book One Day (which has to be the saddest thing I’ve ever watched on Netflix), but was there to promote You Are Here—a romcom about two mismatched protagonists walking the coast-to-coast route in Northern England.

And, Nadine Anne Hura with Roseanne Watt in a beautiful performance piece called North and South: Stories, Songs and Voices from the Land. This made me cry.

Two crutches and pain in a variety of theatres. Everywhere I went, the staff were so welcoming and caring.

I’m not telling this story to gain sympathy. It’s more of an acknowledgement and a heartfelt nod to the many people who live with pain all day, every day. Pain is so goddamn depressing, especially when you can’t see the other side of it.

I’m sitting right in “snipers alley”. I was tidying my contact list (for something to do) and was surprised by the number of people (of my generation) who are no longer with us. It’s shocking and confronting.

I’m happy to report that the pain is reducing. Yesterday was the first day I walked without crutches, and with a seriously reduced drug intake. I looked out my bedroom window at Johnston Hill, then I looked at our dog, Dolly, and there’s hope that together we’ll be able to walk up that summit some time soon. Not next week, or even the next, but sometime in June.

My knee will become just “one of those things”. An ailment that had no preceding catastrophic event, but gradually returned to normal. Thank god for that.

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In other news, I have a new website. I’m not sure how many of my subscribers know this, but my current ‘job’ is illustrating houses.

A recent portrait - illustration by Alan Doak

Take a look at www.alandoak.com, and if you're interested in a portrait of your house, please get in touch. I also have a corresponding Facebook page and would appreciate a follow. I am also dabbling in landscapes.

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