Upstairs, downstairs...

We had a double hospital visit this afternoon: while Mum was upstairs visiting Dad in intensive care, I was downstairs at accident and emergency. I have absolutely no idea what I did - whether I jerked my back opening the garage door, or whether I twisted it when leaning back to pick something up in the car. But somehow I had given my back such a twist that I couldn't move or even sit without gasping at the stabbing, excruciating pain. It felt kind of similar to when I had torn a disc in 2006 (and had to lie flat on my back for six weeks) so I went into the minor injuries unit to find out if it was another disc injury (which would mean that I wouldn't be allowed to sit for weeks.) Turns out, however, that it was simply mechanical back pain, probably caused by jerking or twisting something in the area where I already have lumbar degenerative disc disease. It's incredibly painful at the moment, but the doctor in the hospital said that the pain will probably last around two weeks (as opposed to two months with a damaged disc.) He sent me off with a bag full of pain killers and anti-inflammatories. As I hobbled into the hospital this evening, and my brother limped in on his stiff knee, we must have looked like a bunch of old crocks.

Dad, however, continues to improve slightly from day to day, although he also complains of having aches and pains nearly all the time. He chatted to us this afternoon, and it was nice to see that he was getting his sense of humour back. In the evening, though, he was tired and sleeping again. He often asks us if we think he is looking any better, or if we think that there is hope for his recovery. Feeling tired and achey much of the time, he can't see his little steps of progress as much as we and the nurses can. So tonight he asked us to take a photograph - so that we can show him later what he looked like when he was propped up in bed and surrounded by machines.