Whack! Whack! Whack!
by Bill McCue
When I was in 4th grade (circa 1956), my mother, father, brother and I moved to a small, World War II vintage house in Bristol, Connecticut. It had two small bedrooms, a living room and a small kitchen. My father turned half the basement into a workshop and laundry. The remaining area evolved as basements tend to do.
I remember watching television in the living room and hearing the muffled Whack! Whack! Whack! of a hammer coming from the basement. Whack! Whack! Whack! The sound came through the floorboards and the heating vents. Whack! Whack! Whack!
There were times — more than my Dad would admit — when the Whack! Whack! Whack! was interrupted with a THUD! After a brief pause of silence there would be a measured yelp: “SWEEEET JESUS!” After an even shorter pause I would hear the Whack! Whack! Whack! begin anew. To my Dad, pain was an interruption. There was work to be done, a project to be finished.
Those “Sweet Jesus” moments defined my family’s approach to pain management over the years. Pain is an interruption, there’s work to be done.
During the early months of my version of PRP, I had a much pain as any other PRP patient. My “Sweet Jesus” moments came whenever I moved into and out of my bed, or onto and off of the toilet. Just a few seconds of intense discomfort. Most of the time I just thought SWEEEET JESUS to myself.
When I finally got to the point when I would go to Walmart, first as a passenger in the Lincoln and later as its driver, the maneuver from standing to sitting — and vice versa — required an audible “SWEEEET JESUS”. The greater the pain, the more E’s were required.
PRP is a journey. Over time we hope to be in the “fast lane of improvement”. I remember getting into my car and feeling just a hint of discomfort. My wife asked me, “Are you OK?” I responded, “Yip” and said to myself, “That was just a Baby Jesus Moment”. The journey continued.
Whack! Whack! Whack!