JENNI MURRAY: The unimaginable side-effect of fats jab Mounjaro that nobody instructed me about – it is cured my ache and altered my life

Pain makes you miserable. And I should know. For the past 15 years, I’ve suffered from sciatica – the nagging ache or sometimes stab of pain in the buttock extends all the way down the leg and makes walking or standing for any length of time unbearable; lower back pain, a hangover from the broken vertebra I suffered a year ago; as well as arthritic fingers which make typing a misery (very bad for a writer, of course).

That’s not forgetting the swollen ankles and feet, caused partly by arthritis and by the drugs I take for my heart.

I had become resigned to taking two paracetamol twice a day with codeine on hand for when the pain was extra awful. I’d also grown accustomed to turning down invitations to parties because I find it embarrassing to be the woman who sits in a corner like a wallflower.

Friends have accused me of being arrogant, simply sitting and waiting for people to come to me. Not so.

But now I’m starting to hope that in the not too distant future I’ll feel confident enough to not only attend events but circulate and stand like everybody else.

After all, for the past six weeks, I’ve been able to abandon codeine altogether, only taking the paracetamol as a comfort blanket rather than out of necessity.

As miraculous as it sounds, the sciatica pain is now completely gone. And the surprising cure? Mounjaro, the new weight-loss drug I’ve been taking for two months.

I’ve had none of the problems I encountered when I took Ozempic a year ago. I’d hoped to lose the three stones I’d gained, knowing that losing weight would take the pressure off my joints.

But Ozempic resulted in constipation, dreadful headaches and I was sick almost every day. I couldn’t continue.

I was reluctant to try another drug which would need to be injected once a week, was not available on the NHS except for sufferers of Type 2 diabetes and would cost me a couple of hundred pounds a month.

It was my physiotherapist, who knows all about the pain I suffer, who suggested Mounjaro. She’d been reading research on the drug which uses a different GLP-agonist from Ozempic and Wegovy. It’s tirzepatide as opposed to semaglutide.

She told me it would reduce the appetite just like the others, but that Mounjaro also has an effect on inflammation in the body and consequently eases pain. A number of her clients were using it and reported their pain had definitely reduced.

Intrigued, I asked the GP if it might be available on the NHS as a painkiller. She said: ‘No.’

It was surprisingly easy to acquire it without a prescription from a pharmacy. They say they have a team of doctors who assess who is suitable and who will benefit from taking it. I filled out a form giving details of height, age and weight and sent pictures of me and my weight scales. I listed the drugs I take for my heart and my pain and it seemed none of them would react badly with Mounjaro.

I hope it’s their concern for my welfare and not the monthly £230 that made the High Street chemist approve me so quickly, but the first package of pens, needles and a sharps bin arrived with admirable speed.

The first month, on the lowest dose of 2.5ml, certainly reduced my appetite. I stopped thinking about food all the time, cut out sugar altogether and after four weeks had lost half a stone.

But by far the most significant effect was on my pain levels.

Within two weeks, the sciatica pain was gone. I couldn’t believe it and waited for it to come back. It didn’t.

The pain in my lower back began to ease, that in my fingers started to disappear and my hands appeared less swollen. My ankles and feet returned to normal and again no longer hurt.

I now only take a couple of paracetamol for occasional back ache. It’s really extraordinary.

For my second month, I increased my dose to 5ml on the recommendation of my doctor. My appetite reduced a little more and some of the cravings I’d had for the chocolate brownies and beautiful bread that used to be regular fare began to disappear altogether.

Only once have I given in to temptation. Five weeks into taking the drug, a friend recommended what he called ‘the best pizzeria ever’. I ordered a margherita with garlic.

It arrived and smelt wonderful. I opened the box with great anticipation, telling myself the occasional treat would do me no harm at all. I managed to consume a quarter of it. It was delicious, but my body refused to let me eat any more. What a waste.

My consumption of expensive cakes, lovely loaves and Deliveroo take-aways has become a thing of the past. I’ve started cooking again. Chicken soup with carrots and celery is a favourite and the only expensive food I buy is a steak which I have once a week fried in butter and garlic with broccoli on the side.

I’ve eaten out twice in the two months I’ve been dosing myself and have chosen small and healthy meals with no chips and no puddings. I think my friends fear I’m becoming boring, but, I have no doubt the reduction in my food bill easily compensates for the £230 I spend each month on the drugs.

Oh, and I’ve now lost another half a stone – making me a full stone lighter. It’s not the weight loss though that will persuade me to go on taking Mounjaro. It’s the pain relief.

I look forward to strengthening and straightening my hunched back and regaining the upright frame of which I was once so proud. As the pain in my knees and my hips begins to ease, I’m even tempted to put leads on my dogs and take them for a walk rather than depending on others to do it for me. Not yet, but soon, I hope.

I already feel a little like my old self. I can stand up easily from my chair and walk around the house and garden. I can mount my own stairs without dread of the pain it would cause.

I didn’t expect Mounjaro to lift my spirits so quickly, but it has. The next month’s dose will arrive this week and further lessen my pain and my misery. Losing weight will be a bonus. It’s the easing of pain that’s the most welcome surprise.

 Spare a thought for Margot’s mother-in-law 

This is Margot Robbie dressed tidily but beautifully in practical garb to take her new baby out in its pram. I wonder, though, how her mother-in-law, Mrs Ackerley, from Surrey, is coping with the grooming expected in California. It must be a bit of a pain having to be movie-star gorgeous for the paparazzi when you’re there to be the helpful, sleeves rolled up, busy granny. 

A judge, supporting Robert Ogden from Greater Manchester in his unfair dismissal claim for swearing at a colleague, suggested people in the North swear more than those in the South. Not true. But I’m sick of hearing the F word in every TV programme or film I see. The word loses its power if it’s just chit-chat. 

That’s my Sunday night sorted! 

The new series of Wolf Hall, based on the late Hilary Mantel’s novel, The Mirror And The Light, begins this weekend, so that’s my Sunday night sorted. I spoke to Hilary about the time it was taking her to finish the final instalment. Was it, I asked, because she had fallen in love with Thomas Cromwell and couldn’t bear to lead him to execution? She paused, then said: ‘Mmm, you could be right.’ 

There have been proposals for councils to ban at-home fireworks and only permit public displays. It’s time it happened. It’s been like the Blitz here in North London. Too many fireworks and too many terrified pets. 

My Madge is back on her feet… 

Madge, my 10-year-old chihuahua, and I are still occupied morning, noon and night with the delivery of drops to her eyes, which are now free of cataracts.

She gets about with no effort and her plastic collar comes off on Sunday. The veterinary ophthalmologist said she was making great progress. ‘She will only have long sight,’ he added. ‘If she were to get glasses, she’d need powerful lenses – 59 plus.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said I, ‘I don’t think she’ll be bothered about not being able to read.’