5. Now My Arm's Playing Up

In April 1990 I noticed that my left arm didn’t straighten as completely as it used to do. This confused me but I didn’t think much of it except that I’d pick up heavy items, such as melons, and tried to straighten my arm using them.

A little while later my elbow started to hurt. I visited my GP who didn’t say much except that he’d refer me to the hospital. Whilst waiting for my appointment a friend who was receiving treatment for a back problem, from a chiropractor, suggested that I go and see him. After a couple of appointments, he said that there was something wrong in my elbow that he couldn’t deal with and that I should return to my GP and put on a bit of pressure.

The first hospital I went to diagnosed ‘Golfer’s Elbow’ which was interesting as I’ve never played golf in my life and the treatment, I had was a very painful steroid injection (which didn’t help at all).

After Bob (my husband) and I got married and moved to Sussex we went to sign on at a GP and she asked if we had any problems, I mentioned my elbow and the next day I was at our local hospital having x-rays. This led to the consultant orthopaedic surgeon (Mr. S.) doing so many different tests that I lost track. In the x-ray line I had one that scanned my elbow by taking an x-ray a fraction deeper on each pass and another that involved pumping fluid in and taking pictures while I laid on the table thinking that my arm was about to explode.

Eventually, Mr. S. decided that there was some debris in the joint that was interfering with the movement and that he would operate to remove the rubbish. So, then I had to wait for my next operation.

I only had to wait about 8 weeks and on October 2nd 1991 I went in to hospital at about 7.30 am to be filleted in the afternoon. This was a Thursday and on the previous day I said to the mob at work “I’ll probably need about a week to recover so I’ll see you on Monday week.” I was expecting the operation to be done using ‘keyhole’ surgery so it wouldn’t take long to recover.

I wasn’t even close! It was nearly 4 months later that I made it back to work. Mr. S. had performed a ‘Synovectomy’ which was a much bigger operation than I was expecting and he had given me a very wobbly scar about 8 inches long. I did ask him if he’d had any gaskets left over after he’d put everything back in but he didn’t seem to find this funny.

The annoying part is that the operation didn’t do any good and Mr. S. seemed to take it as a personal insult that I’d failed to improve. They tested some of the tissue they removed during the operation and decided that all my joint problems were due to rheumatoid arthritis.

The only good thing to come out of this operation is that when I was discharged, I had to go to a hospital round the corner for physio and I discovered that some are actually human and humane.