"First 24 hours of what?", you're probably wondering. Well, yeah, this is a little lacking in context. For that, I plead acute intestinal distress ... which is to say, I've spent much of the time between waking up on Monday and this morning not daring to get more than about 10 seconds staggering distance from a bathroom. By Tuesday morning I'd lost almost 10% of my body mass in fluids. (Thankfully, it seems to have ... er ... run its course, so to speak.)
So, anyway, about this "first 24 hours". The one thing I have made it out of the house for since Monday morning is for a trip up to York, Maine, an hour or so away, to see one Chris Delorie1, chronic pain specialist, for a procedure to perform a temporary nerve block on my left sciatic nerve2. Why do such a thing? Well, after a prior consultation, it seemed likely that a lot of the neuropathic pain in my foot might be bleedover into the sympathetic nervous system. (The sympathetic nervous system isn't supposed to carry pain signals. But, for reasons which aren't yet understood, in many chronic pain cases, it does start carrying pain signals as well as, or instead of, doing its proper job.)
Well, to cut a long story short, over the past 24 -- well, about 28, now -- hours, most of that neuropathic pain has been gone, poof, like turning off a light. I had one brief twinge of pain across my toes about an hour ago now, at a much reduced intensity compared to what I've come to expect as normal.
This doesn't mean my foot has been pain-free. Far from it. The underlying ache that's there all the time is still there, and there's still additional aches and pains when I walk on it; all of the "structural" pain is still there. But all the burning, shocking, crunching, crushing, slicing, stabbing pains that come out of nowhere with no warning, all the kinds of pain that we euphemistically put down to a little invisible sadistic gremlin whom we nicknamed Mack the Knife, have been notable by their absence, except for that one twinge, which so far has not recurred.
It looks like maybe we finally have a bullet with Mack the Knife's name on it.
[1] Yes, fellow geeks, brother of DJ Delorie. Small world, isn't it?
[2] During the course of which his office staff also generously pushed two liters of IV fluids into me, much helping with the dehydration from the aforementioned intestinal distress.
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But will your Mack follow that of the Opera?
Imprisioned, escape, imprisioned again await execution, but then with a final pardon from the Queen and baronetcy to boot?
P.S. Your second endnote is unattached.
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And in answer to your question, I hope not .... I've never actually read Three Penny Opera (or seen it performed).
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