Okay, okay, so it turns out I have osteoarthritis. But please don’t ask me anything about it because I honestly don’t remember anything about my diagnosis other than my doctor saying:
“Looks like you’re getting osteoarthritis… blah blah blah blah… of course it’s easily confused with osteoporosis… blah blah blah… will probably spread across all of your knuckles in both your hands over time… blah blah blah… you could try glucosamine but its success is largely anectodal… blah blah blah… Dennis Lillee… blah blah blah… debilitating pain.”
Now you might thing that many of the “blah blah blah” bits were simply spent watching Mr Justice doing his now-famous chicken dance in the background or sliding off his chair or even doing the chicken dance while sliding off his chair. Try it: it’s not as easy as it sounds.
But quite frankly, I would have been none the wiser even without my darling son’s chicken-dance antics. You see, many years ago in Japan, I developed the sanity-saving ability to go on mini-breaks of the mind while some random stranger took three minutes to spit out the single sentence “Can I please practice my English together with you?”. Unfortunately since that happy time, the mini-breaks have become increasingly involuntary – a good thing for when generating material for my blog but not for when trying to absorb important information.
For example, a friend can start by telling me “Oh my god, NDM, I was just at the supermarket…” and before I know it, I’m off! Away! With the fairies! And returning just in time to hear them conclude “… and they say they probably won’t press charges.” It’s very hard to ask them why when, from all outward appearances, I really looked like I’d been listening quite intently.
So the terrible truth is that while my doctor was talking, I was looking at Mr Justice and wondering if it was Jimmy Neutron Boy Genius or Chicken Little where all the grown-ups were made to wear mind-control headsets and do the chicken dance and, if I were to be tied to a chair and forced to watch either film in perpetuity, which one would be the less likely to induce chronic psychosomatic diahrea.
And after I returned from this little mini-break to find the diagnosis was over, I decided to try and ask my doctor some carefully worded questions to find out what I’d missed.
“So… uh… do I have osteoarthritis or osteoporosis?” I asked, tentatively.
“Osteoarthritis,” he said, looking at me like I was a moron.
“Um… so… er…. will I be all hunched over and gnarled by the time I’m 40?” I asked (the important question).
The Doctor had a quick look at my DOB on the screen in front of him.
“Not by 40, you won’t.” the Doctor said and got up to show me (and my chicken-dancing son) the door.
“Great!” I thought to myself, as I walked out into the reception area. “I’ll be all gnarled and hunched over by the time I’m 45! And I’ll probably be chair-bound and they’ll force me to watch Jimmy Neutron or Chicken Little and I won’t even be able to make it to the toilet by myself when the diahrrea hits!”
But when I got home, my husband came up with a solution: we move to the coast and start hanging out with surfers because in their culture “gnarly” is a compliment and I’ll be so gnarled that, among their people, I’ll be considered a God.
Yep, them there’s Comedy Gold, husband dear. And why on earth I managed to stay focused and listen to that little pearl of wisdom in its entirety but not my actual diagnosis by a trained physician, I’ll never ever know.
Thank God I’m not the only one who does that! I find myself particularly susceptible to switching off (while apparently paying full attention, nodding, smiling and all) whilst at work. ANYTHING being explained to me has this effect. And I do make a genuine effort to pay attention, with little success! Is there an answer? Should I even bother looking for an answer, as it’s really quite nice and peaceful in my little world! It’s certainly a more pleasant place to be than somewhere where people are rambling about statistics and documents and productivity rates.
I know it’s probably a load of rubbish, but have you tried wearing a magnetic bracelet? I wear one all the time, and the pain I was suffering in my hands (doctors unable to diagnose, fabulous!) has diminished significantly. Of course, it could all be in my head; stranger things have been known to go on in there all the time…
I think my biggest problem when I hit 45 is looking like a leather bag after smothering baby oil on my skin to “tan” in my teens.
I just got a mini break of my own when 2yo came out with something under his arm. Turned to be his weetbix carried like a football, on it’s side. Made a mess of himself and the floors and then on closer inspection, the big crap in his nappy could not be ignored.
Wish I could zone out in those situations. But then I fear I would be like the mum yesterday who took her kids on a Maccas picnic in the middle of the road.
PS, I LOVE your writing.
I only seem to take mini-breaks of the mind when my husband is explaining how to do something in Photoshop. I’m so annoyed that I can’t do it myself, that I somehow decide every word that comes out of his mouth is too annoying and isn’t worth listening to. Oops!
I’m guessing osteoarthritis is not as bad as the snippets you picked up from your doctor….
Sorry to hear about the osteo – that’s a bummer.
On the bright side, your mini-breaks are a sign of being high functioning. Your brain is processing words faster than the people are speaking and simply trying to fill in the long & boring gaps with other stuff.
Move to the coast … just make sure you ask those surfer dudes to speak quickly.
I am a mini-breaker too NDM. Think of all the stress you avoided by mini-breaking during diagnosis. And you got the important things in, like the name of disease, so you can do what the KW does and self-diagnose by google!
I’m finding my mini-breaking skills, which were honed during a close friend’s early pregnacy where she would ring each day and describe her vomits in lengthy and microscopic detail, are now reaching new heights in my workplace strategic management meetings. I can be thinking about what I’d do if zombies burst into the room (throw my fattest and most detested colleague to them and make a speedy get away by climbing through the roof of the lift and sliding down the cables to ground floor), while my mouth is saying ” but of course I’m interested in the micro-projects, here I’ve chunked some out from the main policy”.
Seriously…. Acupuncture and Chinese herbs could help too – would you like me to investigate for you, I know someone I could ask? X
Life can throw all sorts of things your way, NDM. And, yes, sometimes completely out of left field, totally unexpected and definitely unwanted.
Being you, I know you’ll research this thing to the nth. degree and do your best to cope, accept and get on with your glorious life.
I know well that you are strong and resilient and will look this osteoarthritis dude square in the eyes and tell it that it’s not going to beat you.
Just another interesting ‘project’ to source, dissect and get a more intimate understanding of!
The sound engineer at one of the radio stations I sometimes record voiceovers at suffers from stiff and aching hands at the mixing desk, and claims he suffers from “Austereo-arthritis”.
That’s a shit sandwich right there, NDM. Stupid joints.
Please – homeopathy etc – just say no (it’s all a scam). Wine and chocolate would be as much use, probably even better for you and much much more fun. And that’s the end of any advice from me.
Mini-breaks are awesome when you have a screaming kid. Not so awesome when you need to absorb important information.
Thanks everyone for your kind words and advice.
It’s good to know that I am not the only one who is prone to unexpected mini-breaks of the mind (Nellie: zombies in the workplace? That’s one way to sort out dull IR disputes… ).
I was thinking that perhaps we should all go on a mini-break of the mind together some time… but then I thought that’s really what blogs are for, right?
As well as mind-enhancing drugs, I suppose.
Mini breaks! Is that what they’re called. When I was teaching conversational english (they talk, I listen, nod etc and write down any errors) I used to have to drive my nails into my palm to stop from nodding offright there in front of them.
My mum (ex medical school) is really good at explaining anything medical in layman’s terms, even when you don’t want to know. Do you want me to ask?
I am also sorry to hear about your gnarly-ness, or impending gnarly-ness. I have heard of these mini breaks being referred to as ‘brain farts’. I also call it ‘selective deafness’.
Thinking of you.
I too, am a fan of ‘mini-breaks’. And I am very gnarly, having ankylosing spondylitis – a form of arthritis – and fibromyalgia. What works for me is physio, hydrotherapy, exercises, drugs, and lots of wine. You can just do the wine if you like …