I had round two in my series of five injections into my arthritic knee this morning. And this one was painful. It felt like he was digging around in the muscle, looking for a gold vein, unlike last week when he managed to hit that sweet, nearly painless spot. But I guess when one is subjected to a round of treatments involving injections UNDER THE KNEECAP one should expect just a bit of pain.
Now that I've finished round two I thought it was a good time to learn a little more about exactly what was being put into my knee. It's called "Supartz," and it's one of many brands of lubricants used to help alleviate pain and extend range of motion in knees with osteo-arthritis. It's also, to my surprise and mystification, made from the combs of roosters. Combs of what?!
What's really ironic is I had a pop-up thought, driving to work the other day, regarding using animals for cosmetic testing, and how wrong I feel it is to use living, breathing creatures to help assure it's safe for us to pimp ourselves up. Now I find out I'm getting injections from animals killed for the express purpose of maybe making my knee feel better. Or maybe not. It's not guaranteed to work; it's just a potential temporary fix for ongoing arthritis pain.
I mean, they're chickens, right? Not something cuddly, like hamsters or kittens. Roosters are ugly and stinky and all that. Still, I'm sitting here, my knee still sore as all hell, wondering how many animals I'm dooming to death via pharmaceutical.
Ironically, I don't even like chicken. It's gross and all fatty and stuff. I never eat it unless under duress, yet I have a shot of rooster under my kneecap. Two, actually, since they're supposedly not absorbed, and that's why the shots have a better chance of working, cushioning the joint in a way our own traitorous bodily fluids apparently don't always do.
In the car today with my son I was telling him what the medicine was the doctor was using for my knee, and started crowing like a rooster. When I glanced at him I saw he was staring at me, horrified. And this wasn't even my vegetarian son.
Guess that means it wouldn't go over so well if I started crowing at dawn, eh?
I am going to finish the series of shots. They're all scheduled, and pre-certified with my insurance. If there's a chance it will help I think that trumps my unease regarding the source of the remedy. Kind of. Sort of.
We'll see how it goes, and how much it actually helps. Think of me next Thursday at 10:30 a.m. CST, as that FIFTY INCH NEEDLE WORKS ITS WAY UNDER MY KNEE CAP.
And, with that, I officially open the floor for any and all chicken jokes.
One thought on “Tastes like chicken!”
I’d definitely be a chicken to have to endure that. Does not sound pleasant — but I hope it helps you.