Everything on hold and a focus shift.

So, in my blog last time I wrote this "I am happy to support friends who embrace body positivity in all its forms, as long as they support me too."  There have been a number of instances, recently, where this has not happened and people have been actively quite depressing and negative about people trying to lose weight, for the sake of losing weight. I have taken these things a bit personally.

I have worked fucking hard over the past six months to loose weight, there have been also some muscle building goals as well and side effect of becoming fit. But the Big goal was to lose 10kg by July, by June I had lost 13 kg.  I did this through hard work and discipline, getting up early to go to the gym and counting a calories like only a woman with an addictive personality can.  It was hard going to the gym and pool and working hard, it is not an activity I enjoy. I did have Mr Gin and there personal training team to support me but that was all there was really besides a work colleague who was really lovely as she slimmed down to for her wedding. But the numbers were important, I wanted to jump up and down with every .5 kilo lost. Mr. Gin got lots of photos like below  because I felt putting them on social media was not that caring for a variety of reasons. I was gutted by a couple of instances that just made me feel fairly shit about my numbers and the reasons I was doing this. I really didn't get this when I was doing my best to support their choices by not carrying on. So I am now going to talk about numbers, I needed that support and will need it again.

I got down to 70 kg from 83 kg in December 2016.  At 153 cm that is a huge chunk of change. Both myself and Mr Gin worked hard, he really has been the sole support through it all. We had a goal, to drop weight to reduce the stress on the implant and avoid surgery. I got to the goal and I was pleased with the strength in the legs, there was a lessening in the pain but not as much as I would have liked.
I saw Mr Hutt in July, I had maintained my weight for a month and half so was stoked.  He was very pleased with my movement and the amount of muscle I had gained. My walking has improved and I just stand when getting out of a chair, no need for hands (although I am glad he does not have a low couch like we have at home.)  This is really good for the long term outcomes of the replacement.

We agreed that although the pain had decreased living with it was frustrating but possibly livable with. Leaving it over winter to see if the pain is worse seems to be the best course of action along with more muscle building and weight loss. Dropping to a BMI healthy weight range, again means less pressure on the joint and also if the NHS get carried away with BMIs for hip replacement, it does mean I am in a good shape for the left when it goes. But we have not taken surgery off the table for the implant, to push the stress along the whole thigh bone and hopefully making it less painful. And anyway he can not operate at the moment!

A surgeon not operating?  Why? Well, it is not his fault. Sort of, losing all the weight and getting fit seems had a interesting side effect.  I am pregnant! Something Mr Gin and I thought wasn't going to happen! It does mean we can't do anything with the replacement for a while.  As far Mr Hutt is concerned there is little impact on the replacement and I know it will make it less painful. As I have the replacement I have to have a chat with a consultant about what they think the good outcomes are.

I am having issues because I am hypermobile and I have Pelvic Girdle Pain and am working hard on strengthening the muscles to try and halt that getting worse. As I am older (43) there are risks that go with my age and I am aware the toil it is taking on my body in general. I am tired all the time but hopefully that will change. I am working hard at maintaining my current weight until putting weight is required, which is totally fine given my current weight is classified as obese still.

So, this blog is taking a bit of a turn for a hip replacement and pregnancy combo.

A couple of answers to questions.  We are due late January and we know the baby is human and very likely to be ginger other than that we can't change anything and won't know time they are born, we are both every excited. Oh, and no real bump yet, and of course ask first!

Testing of the Bionics.

Seven months have passed and generally things are the same.

I am not sure if the implant pain is lessening or I am getting used to it. It is a bit ouchy today, with the pain seemly traveling down to my knee. But this could be because for the long weekend I spent in a hotel with over 800 people at a Convention for the Discworld series of books by Terry Pratchett. There was a fair amount of walking, standing around, sitting in uncomfortable chairs and drinking. In between there were interesting talks and what not.

The last time I was at one of these was four years ago. I had a blue dot on my name card, an indication that I could queue jump and not have to stand to queue. I was grudging about taking one but in the end it was very needful. I was on a stick intermittently and found the standing in queues exhausting. By the time I finished the four days of Con I was tired and broken.

This time I went without my blue dot, I knew they were there but honestly didn’t think that I needed one.  I did have my sensible hat on and was ready to get a blue dot if needed. I figured the first day would be a good test. It is almost a half day and would give me an idea how much effort and energy I would need. The venue was compact with some stairs but there was also a lift if I needed it. The first day was not too bad at all. There were places to sit and the general feeling was grand. The queues were long and friendly.  (In the end I didn’t really queue because the front chairs of the big venue were uncomfortable and frankly the view was pretty rubbish in most places.) I was pretty much sold that I could handle the experience as a normal person.

It was a really good test for the leg because I tend to love these events and drink too much and tire myself out a lot. I think over the three evening I managed about 10 to 12 hours sleep. I jammed in as many talks as I could and lined up on tarmac for long periods and trundled my camera bag (which is not light) around with me. I even walked 40 minutes to the venue one day!

All in all it was good, I felt I was tired because I was burning the candle at both ends and not because I was being slowed down by the leg. This is all very good.

I think the next step now I pretty much back to post op six years ago is to try and drop some weight and get a bit more fit. Then I think tackle my walk, that is going to take some emotional space and I have a trip home lined up which is approaching, which as always stressful. These trips are generally not really a holiday and not matter how often I say I am not going run all over the shop I end up doing that anyway!  

Walk like a hippie

It is a long weekend in ye olde Britain. On the hip front we have been doing well, Mr Gin has friends in Cheltenham, which is where we spent Saturday in this pleasant town. We walked quite away. My walking is getting better but I don’t have huge amounts of stamina. We figure I walked about 3 km in about 40 minutes. Not all in one go but it didn’t wipe me out completely. (I must learn to not sit for hours as well, I do love good company, they do distract me to a point of forgetting to get up.)

Sunday was another walk Sunday, we walked into our local town centre, roughly 2 km, then a bit of a wander, film and then walking home (via a baby pop up bar for a pint).  Less tiring than Saturday’s walk, which meant heading out to my first gig since the hip operation went well. The good thing about many goth gigs is they are not overly crowded and this one I knew a lot of the people there. Making me comfortable that I wasn't going to get knocked over.

Monday it was a rest day and then a brief walk to the local shops. I did do a lot of physio exercises.
There is going to have to be a lot more walking because that, along with the swimming and the exercises is going to improve my walk. Which is why I am going to try to walk back from the bus station a couple of times a week along with the swimming and bit more effort in the physio exercises.

Working for the man

I’ve been a bit quiet of recent times.
The few weeks or so has been a little more stressful than I would have liked. The main reason for this is work. I have thought long and hard about blogging about this stress because I know there are some people from work who read this. On the whole work have been really helpful, especially Occupational Health and Human Resources. Answering questions and helping with making sure I was coping.
And to honest, mentally, the whole situation has been challenging and returning to work was not something I was looking forward to. The final month or so at work was physically difficult due to pain management and astoundingly stressful. The commute was difficult and painful, my independence was eroding away and I was scheduling my out of work life so I could manage work. Even at work I wasn’t pulling my weight, pain made if difficult to think on a good day and on a bad day it was nigh on impossible.
So, going back wasn’t something I was looking forward to. Occupational Health put me in touch with a scheme called Access to Work. A governmental grant. I had contacted them early in the piece but into the lead up to the operation had lost touch with them. (A lot of things slid then.)  I realised I had not heard from them when getting organised to return to work. I called and the case manager had left and I had to start all over again. Cue crying.
Not great but they seemed pretty helpful although a little astounded that I did not have a car and did not want to drive to work.  I pointed out in the end that this was not unusual for London at all. The ball was rolling there and I was getting all the documents that work required. They wanted a fitness to work certificate before anything else happened which was a little fiddly to obtain as they are not something that is done by my GP surgery.
I was quite worried at this point I wouldn’t get paid if there were gaps between my sick leave and returning to work.  I said this and work agreed that wouldn’t happen. I had been in physically to work and a time to start the next Monday was agreed but I was a little concerned that the paper work for occ health had not gone in as promised but figured it would be all okay.
The following day I got an email that I was having my occ health appointment on the 21st, a week after I started back. I thought that was odd but figured if there was any change to the start date I would be told. I had been told over the phone that Access to Work funding would be in place for the 14th and all information would be emailed out. Before I started.
Friday afternoon I have not heard from Access to Work, I called only to find the case worker stopped work at 2:30pm.  This was suboptimal so I braced myself for the tube journey because I had not heard anything from work.
Monday morning I headed off and arrived at work feeling quite sore and tired but okay. The tube was stressful on my own and I felt pretty vulnerable. Mr Hutt’s words about falls and fractures were ringing in my ears as I navigated my way through the heaving mass of humanity that is London underground.
I got into work and my boss asked me why I was there. And I said that we had agreed to this start date. It transpired that that work wanted me to work from home and had emailed me on my work email. The one I wasn’t checking. I could have cried at that moment. The bonkers bit was that I could not have worked from home because there was someone in my desk. We log into our work PCs from home for remote access. The thought of having to turn around and head back on the tube pretty much blew all the mental effort I had pulled together to cope out of the water. What cope I had, run out.  I just wish my boss had called me when I had not responded to the email.
So home I went and tried to get my head in the right place to start work on the Tuesday, via remote access. I felt pretty out of sorts. My job although, not overly complicated has a lot knowledge to retain and remember, being off work for 8/9 weeks meant I felt I could remember very little. I felt isolated as I sat at home and tried to get my leg to be happy with sitting at desk. Even though I had being playing a lot of Minecraft, I would play a little bit then get up and do something else. Work I could not do it. 45 minutes sitting still was painful.
I also was fighting a cold that would not go and that with working from home, it was a week of fighting my body and dodgy brain chemistry. Not a good start at all.
I went back into work the following week, using the cab service.  Going through London traffic is not very stress free. There were some entertaining times and routes but at least I was not having to worry about being jostled and knocked.  The Occupational Health doctor was lovely and impressed with my new posture and the lack of walking stick. We started on a phased return which is shortened hours and slowly moving up to full time hours. Thankfully we had a shortened week so that my leg could get used to the sitting. There was a lot of implant pain but as time went on it did settle.
Being the office helped mentally as well, much more able to focus and felt a lot less out of my depth. We have some interesting times as I don’t think I could manage the three flights of stairs for fire evacuation but it looks like I will be sheltering in stairwells unless there is a serious risk.
All in all it was an sub par return to work but somethings could have been handled better because my stress levels really didn’t need that spike.  Oh well, onwards and upwards, let’s hope my first full week goes well.

Seven weeks, not seven deadly sins.

Seven weeks. Boom.

Back to work next week, not a quite a boom.

I like my job but if I never had to work again, I would be a happy camper, especially if I there was money to live comfortably. I must remember to buy a lottery tickets.

I am waiting for some information from the Access to Work lady, I am hopeful that I will get funding to help with travel.  I went into work on Tuesday, it is a bus, two tubes and kilometre walk commute, over an hour. Catching up with work people was nice; my line manager was surprised how straight I stand now. My whole posture has changed.  By the time I got home with a side trip to the doctor’s I was exhausted. I needed a two hour nap! And I had not done any work!

I am walking much better, already the waddle is decreasing but I really need to focus on the exercises. I get caught up doing other things, washing, pottering, shopping (which takes so much time) and of course, Minecraft.

I am still using the single crutch out in crowds, I am still hyper worried about being knocked.

I have had a nice week of socialising, Tuesday, a group of us came second in the pub quiz and last night I caught up with some ex-colleagues which was lovely. We have found that a few drinks does make the waddle worse. Not really surprising there.

This weekend a wedding. And hopefully but the end of the week, doing stairs like a real person and no bloody crutch outside.

Packing list for Hospital.

This is not really about what is happening to me now but more advice on what to take to hospital. Of course, your mileage may vary, the EOC does things differently to other hospitals and I am bit younger than most hip replacement patients.

When I was packing for the hospital, the EOC had provided a pretty good list I have added some bits to the list with additional notes:

• Walking Aids (Be prepared not to be using your old one when you leave.)
• Slippers and/or trainers. Nothing open backed BUT slip on with a good grip on slippy floors is the best. I had a pair of slippers and pair of sketchers that are slip on, Additionally your feet are likely to swell the size of small melons, so have some shoes are a little too big or stretchy unless you want leave in socks! 
• Nightwear – loose is good but also if you intend to wear a night gown, long enough to go over your knees when sitting. I am not the most modest woman but frankly flashing the people opposite you is a little carefree.  If you are going to get a catheter, consider a nightshirt of very loose, short pyjama bottoms. Also, I took a light dressing gown, it was handy at various points.
• Loose day clothing – stuff that will stretch over your swollen leg, I swear by yoga pants, minimal waistband and enough stretch to accommodate a leg at least twice is normal size and looking like it belongs to elephant. Also the high waist of yoga pants are a little easy to deal with when having to deal with limited mobility. 
• Big knickers! Not grandma knickers but something without tight elastic around the leg and with a reasonable amount of fabric across your butt and not to narrow at the side. I wore girl boxers, that have no elastic in the leg and covered most of the incision site, this minimised the amount of rubbing and were easy to get on!
•  I took enough clothes for five days and that was a little much but better than having to ask Mr Gin find a black t-shirt in a drawer of black t-shirts.
• Personal Towels (not white) – I could have got away with not taking a towel but for me it was nice to have one of my own. Also if you like big fluffy towels, this is something hospitals don’t have! Also take a flannel, scrubber or such like. Orthopaedic surgeons love a permeant maker and mine liked a bit of ball point pen. When you finally get to have shower you are going to want scrub that graffiti off.
• Toiletries – If you don’t normally use soap, you will need a bit because of the graffiti loving surgeon. (I don’t use much soap due to it making me itch if I use too much and didn't pack it.) If you are female and have not been through the menopause route be aware that major surgery upsets lots of things and my hormone cycle was upset. I was caught unprepared and I cursed my body at that point.
• Helping Hand, long arm grabber, reacher. I did not have one of these. Get one before you go in if you don’t have one and if you want to be able to put on your own underwear you are going to need this. Amazon provided mine. (Some councils and hospitals will also provide them.)
• ALL YOUR DRUGS! In their boxes! No doesette boxes. Also any other aides – splints, braces!
• Glasses, hearing aids, contact lens and dentures. I wouldn't bother with contact lens, mainly as putting them in when taking opiates is bloody difficult.
• Fruit juice, ready to eat prunes, apricots. Now I did not really understand this but opiates are evil for giving you the worst constipation. If you have some food you know helps get things moving take it with you. I also got bored of drinking all the water, and had Mr Gin bring in some diet lemonade for me. If you thingy about your tea and coffee, I suggest you take in a small supply too. E, 80 hip lady had a china mug and her own tea and that made her very happy.
• Coat and keys for the house. Self explanatory, especially if the hospital take you home.
• A  Cushion. I have carried around a chair pad a fair bit because being a little higher is easier and if you have to get in a car being high is a blessing!
• No valuables including jewellery. Don’t wear anything into theatre but if you, like me feel naked without your rings take some non-important ones with you.

Added to the list by me!

• Something to do with visitors – if you are having visitors, a game, we had dominoes is something that is helpful so you are not discussing bodily fluids all the time.
• Sleep mask and ear plugs – sharing a ward with strangers is entertaining up until they snore like the stream train from Whitby to Pickering without the wonderful views. Additionally hospitals are not the quiet places and sometimes getting the lights turned off is not a battle you want to take on.
• Something to do. I took a book, as did the other ladies on the ward but we all struggled to concentrate. So, I spent a lot of time on my phone, I got extra data because I knew that Wi-Fi in the hospital was pricey. I also had a small deck of cards and I played Patience because that is all I could concentrate on. I also had my laptop and played games (Minecraft of course). If you have a tablet that would be a good thing, but of course keep an eye on the expensive technology. I also had pencils and a colouring book.

One crutch, two crutches, one leg, two legs.

I think I am staging a mini rebellion. A week and half a go I went off the physiotherapist at my local hospital.  The physio was nice enough but it became clear that I was the youngest hip replacement patient she had meet by some years.

She said I was to stay on two crutches till the consultant. Considering she was sceptical I was meant to be fully weight bearing on the leg and she struggled with why someone so young would need complex surgery, I decided to ignore her. I took on board the extra exercises and some stretches she gave me. Also the critic of me swinging me right foot out when I walk, I try to remember this but it is a habit of a life time.

The exercises I have been doing are going well, although Mr Gin trying synchronised exercises did mean a massive amount of giggling and general silliness.  The amount of movement I am getting every day is getting better and better.

So, back to the ignoring. I have been using one crutch in the house. This all of a sudden makes being in the house on my own so much easier! Being able to carry a bowl to the table to make my own breakfast is bliss! It makes so many things easier, and far less frustrating. Being able to fetch and carry even with one hand is immensely satisfying. Also it is more tiring because I am putting much less weight through the crutch and making the legs work harder.

If I have something at hand to steady myself, I tend to abandon the crutch, using bench tops and drawers instead.  This has meant I have cooked some full meals and getting dressed in the morning is a bit less hit and miss and giving and just wearing what was on the floor.

The two crutches are being used in the outside world, I am still very afraid of being knocked over and London is a busy town with lots of people who don’t look where they are going. Two crutches does tend highlight I am there. (Also the colourful language.)

I am not abandoning the crutches completely, not until I see Mr Hutt. I have a lot of questions for him, including the time frame for getting rid the blasted crutches. I will be so pleased went I will be walking around on my own two feet.  After that… running… maybe.

And for those counting, we have gone past five weeks since cutty, cutty, slicey slice.

Sometimes, you just need your mum.

It is hard to believe that I have had a new hip for four whole weeks.

Today has a bit lonely and tough, my Mum went back to Australia on Tuesday.

We had a lovely morning Tuesday, getting up ridiculously early so she could take photos out the front of our house of Mr Gin and me. After she finished packing we went off to have lunch, trying to locate Eggs Benedict in our part of East London. This was successful and we had a little wander around a market and then home to get organised to put her in a taxi.

Mum submits to a selfie with a crazy tiger hat lady

Once she left the house felt immediately empty. When my Mum offered to come over, Mr Gin and I discussed it and said if she wanted to she was more than welcome. I think that was one of best decisions we made during this process.

I am close to my mother, and as I have lived in the UK for over a decade we don’t see each other often. We do speak at least once a week and generally email and what’s app a fair bit. She was driving force during all of my surgeries as a child and was there for other medical bits in my 20s. Her statement was “I was there for the others, I can be there for this one.”

Her support was invaluable, neither Mr Gin nor I have family near by, we have a great circle of friends but having Mum around was something different. She helped around the house, putting on TEDs, dishwasher duty, letting the cats in and out, nagging me to my exercises, suggesting walks and on the bad days, letting me sleep and then finding something for me to do to break the black dog creeping. She helped me finish the quilt and helped plan out a new one.  She also did a bit of cooking, pulling out old family favourites, considering she does not cook often (my Dad cooks most of the time). She bought over Australian snacks, my favourite chicken Twisities and Tim Tam biscuits as well as ingredients for a 1970s classic, Apricot Chicken.  All this help was a god send for Mr Gin, removing some of the jobs that needed doing as I recovered to a point of being able to help as well. Mr Gin has been working full time through a lot of this caper and picking up the slack of my role in our little household.

The most important bit was her company, we chatted about many things, the past, the future and cats. There was a lot of giggling. It is something we have done for a long time. Odd things set us off, generally her telling me that my father would not approve of something. One of the funniest moments was icing tarts and there was chocolate icing all over the place and Mum doing impressions of Dad.  We have not sat around chatting for a long time, I was very grateful for the time. When in London in the past, her and Dad, have been tourists and this time it was more like when I visited home when living in Melbourne.

I am now pottering around the house on my own, which is fine but I would not have been able to this in first couple of weeks.  Melbourne to London to look after a family member is rather a wonderful thing, and we were lucky that Mum was able to do it. She did say it was better to come than being in Australia worrying.
She is back home with Dad and I miss her, I am happy enough pottering around by myself and leaving things for Mr Gin but that cats are not quite as good at conversation as Mum.

The other part that is tough is that last night I went out to my Women’s Institute meeting which was great fun but going into the meeting my crutch slipped, causing me to stamp down on my operated leg. It feels like the femur has been jarred slightly. Morphine was back on the night time routine, disappointingly. Thankfully it is not as bad as it could be as the amazing R drove me home after the meeting, I had got there by the tube but that is another story!

Exercise, buses and a Fern named Fenchurch.

So, a bit of a mobility and sociability update.

I have been home for just over two weeks, my mother with me for pretty much all the time. She goes home next week. We have had a great time, given the circumstances and she has been a boon with doing washing, tidying, a bit of cooking and a lot of keeping me going. There has been some down days, generally coinciding with a lack of sleep and feeling generally overwhelmed. She lets me sleep in but not too far and nags about exercise.

The first adventure outside was after being inside for a few days, three I think, and generally going a little batty. We headed for the end of the street. About a 200 to 300 metre walk. Thankfully with a lot of fences to sit on.  We got to the corner and added on an extra 100 metres to the local small Tesco.   There were at least five stops each way and a long sit down when I got home.

The walks have slowly got quicker and with less stops. We have also attempted buses. One day we met Mr Gin and had lunch. That day almost killed me even though there was very little walking and a lot of stops.
The las bus trip up into the same area meant no stops to the bus stop (Tesco) and slowly wandering to the butchers, Pound shop, stopped for coffee and then to the large Tesco for groceries then lunch, then bus home. This was the most I have done and really the pace is picking up really well.

We have been to the pub a couple of times, taking a taxi (there was a birthday celebration I was not missing out one for the world), and having to be fairly blunt to get through the tight spaces in the crowded pub. Mum and I also went to the cinema in a shopping centre, on a weekday was quiet but after the film was crowded and people are really not switched on to moving for people who are not that nimble. There were points I was doing well not to batter people texting with my crutches!

The mobility of the joint is improving, I am doing my exercises and the improvement is amazing, I can do some movements I have not done since I was in my 20s! Amazing.  I am still using my helping hand/grabber to put on trousers and undies but can pick up a cat off the floor, which is spooking them! The exercises are from the physiotherapists and designed to gain better mobility in the joint. There are lying down ones and standing, almost ballet bar exercises.

There are improvements every day, I stand well unaided and sometimes forget to grab my crutches but my muscles remind me.

The other bit is I have had visitors, and those visitors have been very, very welcome. I love my mum but we do need to see other people so we don’t kill each other! I think there have been five different visits, from one to multiple people.  R and S arrived with a fern (now named Fenchurch) and M dropped past as well on the first day of visitors. This was lovely and it was a much needed mood lift.  H and T rolled up for a Saturday dinner and we sat and played board games and drink a bit of red wine. Then Mr Gin had to go off to a hospital appointment and Mum went with him, leaving me potentially in the house on my own. But M bought around some had sewing and the K, M, N and R came later. M had bought the most wonderful lunch, her Japanese comfort food that was wonderful and beyond tasty. N bought an orchid and K and M provided sugar and R astounding brownie cookies. E came over this week for a quick but lovely visit.

All these visits have been just wonderful and either filled in the days or given me something to look forward to. (The fact there was food and presents were just lovely and wonderful surprise.) I am isolated with not really being able to use the tube and buses being a bit of an adventure if the driver does not lower the bus. Visitors are a bit of a boon!

All in all things are going well.

Two!

It is a two day.

Two weeks since the operation and this means that the dressing came off! Well, Mr Gin gingerly peeled the amazing water proof dressing to reveal… Do you really want to know?  Skip the next paragraph if you don’t want to.

… A surprisingly clean cut. The old scar is gone, and the cut is not the same as I have seen on line, not a clean curve. A bit more angular and not as far into my bum muscles as I thought. It looks clean, a bit scabby and a couple of points I suspect will keloid later as well as the ball point marks left by the surgeon.

Bed Board from Amazon plus my hand for a bonus!

The other two, is the second shower in my own bathroom. I bought a bath board and we use it make transfer into our shower over the bath easy. I cannot lift my leg over the bath edge. Mr Gin, again a hero and helps get my leg into the bath and makes sure that I'm safe and not going to attempt my own stunts.

A shower is a wonderful thing, I have been ‘bird bathing’ for a week and a half and not really felt that clean. Washing my hair! Dandruff be gone!  Even though I can’t shower on my own, mainly this is all of us being careful and it has to be at night, I don’t care! Shower!

My Mum has also passed the two week mark of her stay, I will be forever grateful for her coming over!

Be a dear, and pass the morphine, please.

This weekend there was little change in my routine.
Normally it has been a sponge bath as I am not keen on leaping into the shower over the bath at the moment, and then a lot of giggling as my mother has put on my teds. (the stockings to fight blood clots.)
This Saturday, there was a lie in and my mother was down stairs watching the Women’s single finals for the Australian Open.  So, Mr Gin and I decided to wash my hair, something that I have not done since I left hospital. I have a buzz cut, so this is not as bad as it seems and I thankful for the failure of hair dye that resulted in the extreme, easy care haircut.
So, there was leaning over the bath and Mr Gin rinsed out my hair and halted any head long efforts into the bath. Although during this time, he did utter the words, “That is a huge bruise behind your knee.”  He showered whilst I sponged down with my squeaky clean hair.  Then after I dried most of myself, Mr Gin did my lower legs.

Then we got dressed but not before Mr Gin, put my TED stockings on, using the plastic bag method and his strength to make is a very quick effort.  Of course, the mystery bruise was photographed. The final bit was putting on my slippers.

So, why am I telling you this? Because, although, this is all very cute, it is not that sexy. Mr Gin, is being amazing but he is being a carer. He has been my picker upper, carter, bender and occasional clothes putter onner. As a partner, you are used to doing the odd tie, cuff button, dress zip or corset lacing for your love. In our case there was added shoe trying until I got slip on shoes because, I wanted to put on my own clothes.  In hospital, I was focused on being able to dress myself, at least put my own undies on.  But sometime trousers defeat me and Mr Gin helps. It feels odd and although appreciate it wish it wasn't so.

I am feeling pretty helpless at the moment, not being able to carry a glass of water or my own plate of food is demoralising and difficult. I know it is early days but still. Mr Gin is happy to help out but it is difficult for him too, he is tired, as he is doing a lot of the things I would do, my share of the cooking and cleaning.

Having said all that, he has been amazing, especially in the wee small hours when I'm struggling either with pain or just sheer frustration. On a number of nights he has got up, found painkillers, normally morphine and then held me till I slept. He took half days last week and came home, organised lunch and helped around the house.

There is a shift in our relationship and I'm looking forward to it changing back. For now I am beyond grateful for my big, hairy, bald, funny and silly partner, who four years ago did  not realise nurse was in the relationship agreement and has stuck through one of the most stressful points of my life.

Oh, and that bruise? We think that is from having to use my knee and the lever point to get my hip in and out of joint. It is amazing.

Knee bruise

7:15pm Stab my girlfriend

Epidural Bruise

Deep vein thrombus. Not just preserve of long haul flights.

It is also a big risk with major surgery, the surgery itself can produce clots and the blood gets sticky. Avoiding blood clots was one of the reasoning behind the epidural, apparently they cause less clots than general anaesthetic. 

 So, it is something that nursing staff drum into you. Drink a lot, keep that blood flowing.  Wear your TEDS, a stocking designed to keep the blood flowing through your lower limbs. My feet and calved have swollen somewhat but not as much as my thigh and bum!  

Getting the TEDS on and off is an entertaining experience as they are quite tight; I discovered each nurse has a technique that works for them.  Mainly this centres around a plastic bag over the foot, the TEDs being folded in half, slid onto the foot and when a half on you unfold it up the calf to below the knee. Then you roll the bottom up the foot a little using the inception hole and pull the plastic bag out.  It is nigh on impossible putting them on yourself. My mother is doing them at the moment as she had experience of them with my Dad after heart surgery and when he does long haul flights (he has had DVT).

The other thing is Dalteparin soduim, a blood thinning medicine. This has proved to be an interesting thing for Mr Gin. As we know, Mr Gin does not like hospitals and a little bit phobic about them. He was not best pleased with sitting with me in the pre-surgery suite, as I rattled away with nervousness and they took blood and stuck me full of needles. I was beyond surprised when Nurse Susan asked who was going to administer the Dalteparin soduim, he offered. Why was I surprised? Dalteparin soduim is a subcutaneous injection. Yep, my partner offered to stab me with a needle on my belly every evening for 30 days!  He is very good at because they do hurt a bit even though they are a thin needle. They go into the belly fat and they hurt, for me, for some time as the liquid spreads through and is absorbed into my belly fat.

The main side effect of this, besides a smug Mr Gin brandishing a needle at my tummy when his phone alarm goes off (labelled stab my girlfriend), is the bruising. I have a tummy with an assortment of small round puncture bruises from the needles. Also the deep bruising of the operation is coming up in a myriad of colours. And any small knock bruises and they are taking forever to heal. 

For now I am doing a lot of feet wiggling when sitting or lying down and not stay in the one position too much but this does mean I want to walk a lot more and that is causing more swelling. It is bloody, swelly tightrope.

South West London Elective Orthopaedic Centre

I’m home and have been so for about 24 hours or so, and I’ve had time to digest my experience at the South West London Elective Orthopaedic Centre (SWLEOC).

They are a Centre of Excellence, within the NHS (National Health Service) and the majority of procedures are knee and hip replacements. There are a number of these centres dotted across the UK and different one specialise in different things.

A number different hospitals feed into the centre, including St Georges and Kings.  It is outside of London but still within the M25. For us it was over two hours on public transport. And almost on the opposite side of London.  The surgeons there are the top of their field and the nursing staff, physiotherapists and other staff are specially trained in the care of joint replacement patients.

The dedication and expertise of all the staff was very apparent, and the regime was intense. The nursing staff worked 13 hour shifts. There was a consultant on duty 24 hours, something that is quite rare. There was physio and radiography seven days a week, on the weekend a smaller staffing of the physio and x-ray.  The ratio is very good and the wards had no more than 3 beds in them, and it appeared that they tried to place people having surgery on similar days together.  The expert nursing staff meant you were in safe hands all the time and they even had prescribing nurses if drugs needed changing or new things needed treating. The goal of coming out independent was very obvious, with all staff being encouraging and gently pushing you to strive but, if you look like a rabbit in headlights they were comforting. The respect and care for the patients was just amazing.

The facilities are world class, five dedicated theatres, a dedicated radiography suite, a day ward and two longer stay wards. It is a separate centre, attached to the Epsom General hospital but very separate. The reason for the separation is to limit patient contact with infection. Infection is the bane of joint replacements. A bad infection can result in a dreaded revision. The SWELEC has some of the lowest infection rates for joint replacements in the word and they do about 5000 procedures a year. Just amazing.

They also will collect you and take you home, hour and half drive home was done by Bill. Which was gratefully received, I could not have done it on public transport.

Even though there was a lot of older patients there were some younger ones and even though it was commented I was young, I could just say I was born with congenital dislocated hips, there were questions of procedures and outcomes that were intelligent and well versed. This led me to believe, I was not that far off the norm. Once the explanation of my age was there, they procedure with me as the same as the oldies.
So, fabulous surgeon world class facility and a top of the line individually selected hip replacement. Pre-planned and measured. Sent home with crutches, exercises and a lot of drugs.  The cost of this procedure?

A large dent in my sick leave.

Nothing, in terms of money. A rough estimate would be about £10,000 maybe more.

I am beyond thankful I was in the UK and the NHS is available to all, including this immigrant. I certainly have not paid £10,000 into the NHS with my contributions.  Thank you for the amazing NHS, a huge organisation that runs 24 hours, seven days week, and I will be campaigning to stop it being privatised because without it, I would have been crippled, in debt or both.  Social healthcare for the win.

Time flies when working hard

So, I am sitting here, planning to be heading home tomorrow. They wanted to discharge me today, but frankly I was still feeling wobbly and I had not attempted stairs and the stairs at home give me the heebies.
Saturday was similar to Friday but a much better night’s sleep but still feeling pain in my knee. Breakfast but the lovely nurse Susan said I was to shower as I had my catheter out the night before. Oh, my lord, it was bliss even though I needed all the help and it was exhausting. I felt knackered but so much cleaner than the day before. I found I have lovely biro (ballpoint pen) marks from the planning on my leg and the bruises are turning the most amazing colours.
Then came physio. I was moved off the zimmer frame of doom and onto crutches. A lot of one foot catching up with the other and trying to adjust my gait to take in the new leg length and general appalling walk from years of favouriting the right hip. There were standing exercises, one that I do beautifully because of all that sock yoga.
The crutches needed practice which I duly did. We did have a bit of excitement with M, one of my ward mates passing out, and causing a great flurry of people coming from all corners of the ward. It was frightening and I was quite concerned that M was going to die, she looked so bad.
Things settled down and I tried to practice my bed exercises and talk to Mr Gin and M did it again, this time I noticed her starting to roll her eyes back in her head and alerted the nurse. Again battle stations were called and she ended up in bed, resting. By the afternoon she was looking much better and brightened when her visitors arrived later in the afternoon.
Mum, Mr Gin and I played dominoes and discussed the revelation I might be discharged tomorrow (Sunday), I expressed my concern with the lack of stair preparation and given the massively steep stairs at home Mr Gin was inclined to agree with me.
He had been a trooper coming out to visit me when his back was sore and enduring the 5 hours of public transport to see me for a few hours. It was lovely to see him, I miss his company terribly and he rocks as a partner!
He helped make sure my bed was flat which was causing the pain in my knee, which meant I was looking forward to a good night’s sleep. Buoyed by being able to get changed myself from day clothes into jammies!
Alas, that was not to happen as the other lady with a hip replacement, E began to throw up and be in enormous amounts of pain. Infection had set in and she was not comfortable. A nurse sat with her most of the night as they juggled drugs, bought the night time consultant to check her, and waited for the antibiotics to kick in. She slept sitting up some of the night and in the morning, this morning looked much better. But neither I nor M got great sleep.
Today was the dreaded stairs day, I really was nervous and not keen. The lovely physio, Karina, was caring and gentle and not that fussed about my tears. We went through steps and then hit the stairs. That was hard work and I really did not feel confident with them. She agreed that I could stay and give them a red hot go tomorrow. We also went through the height of the bed at home and the toilet and practised getting up, down, on and off those heights.
I also had a shower, stood in the shower and managed to give myself and even better wash. AND get my own trousers on, which was great. I still cannot believe I can put my full weight onto my new hip, I can stand unaided but should not do that too often.
I have also started working normally with the crutches, not one foot catching up to the other. Mum came for a visit and we coloured together and chatted as Mr Gin stayed home and rested his back.
As long as nothing happens during the night and stairs go well, I am set for heading home tomorrow. Monday, after a complete hip replacement surgery on Thursday. Amazing.

And it is done!

There has been some eventful few days, a little recap of Thursday and Friday.

We were all up at 5:30 am and out of the house at 6:45 am to be lead along a meticulously planned journey by Mr Gin. My mother and I sort of sailed along in his wake and we embarked on the 2 hour public transport trek to Epsom.

We got there in plenty of time and played in the star trek chairs before Mr Gin and I headed up to the Pre surgery unit. There we had to answer all the questions and then meet the anaesthetist, the registrar and finally Mr Jonathan Hutt, the man of the moment.  The anaesthetist, Mr Singh was lovely, very through and then explained that they generally do an epidural instead of a General Anaesthetic.  This was a bit of a new one for me, it is not something I have done before and was feeling a little apprehensive about, I had no experience of them and frankly major surgery is not something I want to listen to. In the end he convinced me and I opted for it with heavy sedation.

There was an x-ray of the CAD program that Mr Hutt had used to plan the drawing. When Jenny the registrar came in to mark my leg, I added the smiley face to add good luck to the surgery.  Mr Hutt explained what he was going to do and that we were looking at two to three hours of surgery and possibly a blood transfusion.  The words complex and difficult were bandied about but Mr Hutt was confident and everyone I spoke to, nurses and other staff said he was very good.  When speaking with medical staff I have learnt they don’t give high praise unless it is deserved, they are more likely to say just good or okay if they are not that impressive.

I was wheeled into surgery after saying good bye to Mr Gin. In the theatre there was an array of cloth covered trolleys and a bed for me. On my side and bent into an uncomfortable position I exposed my spine (and bum) and once in position sedated. And that is it.

I woke in recovery feeling pretty good in the grand scheme of things, not the normal heavy nasty feeling after a general. The leg felt pretty good too. Very numb as they inject the area with local anaesthetic and touching your own leg and not feeling it is very strange. Mr Hutt and Jenny checked in on me. He was pleased with the outcome and there was one minor hiccup . I have a piece of wire around the femur because a crack developed. My femur is not as big as he expected.  He was very pleased with the outcome and felt it should last me 20 years!  That is great news.

The other big surprise was that he did manage to take the screws out in one piece! And I have them, my companions for thirty years and they will continue, I think the form of earrings! (Need to get my ears pierced first.)

Once I had something to eat I was taken down (or up) to the ward. I was still feeling fine, very unusual, legs a bit tingly and the dead wood feel of the local still happening. I had chosen to have a catheter for avoiding the dreaded bed pan. This is also a weird experience and one I am not sure I want to repeat again.
My Mum and Mr Gin met me on the ward, a three bed with two older ladies, E, 80 having a hip done and M, 72 having her knee done. I was given morphine and unsurprisingly that made me a little spaced and chatty. All in all I felt okay, not completely comfortable but not as uncomfortable as I thought. My leg was a remarkable red colour from the disinfectant. The wound site is covered in a water proof bandage and stuck together with glue! The bruises are amazing and continue to be so, high lighting the old scars running through them.

They left and I was exhausted and ready to settle for the night. The lights were bright and I could not get comfortable. My right knee became more and more sore. Once the lights finally did go out I desperately tried to go to sleep but just could not settle.

I rang the bell and the night nurse gave me some morphine which helped a little and I waited an hour and was almost in tears by this stage. She hooked up a paracetamol drip and I finally got some sleep, about 3 hours worth!

The day started early as they do with hospitals.  All three of us started the same routine, breakfast, and the bed baths. The amazing red disinfectant was removed and the bandage checked. The sexy TEDS (dark green stockings for stopping my legs swelling and halt blood clots forming) were applied with a bit of wrestling.  Then the physiotherapy team came in and there was in bed exercises and then there was Zimmer frames! Walking! You read that right. Up walking in about 16 hours of surgery. Not that painful as there was still local anaesthetic rattling the joint.  Although very awkward with the catheter.

The oddest bit for me is it felt all cock-eyed when I stood up. Mr Hutt had almost made me completely level. A very surreal and distinctly odd feeling. It has taken my brain a little time to catch up.
There was more physio after lunch, walking with a Zimmer frame and generally a bit of exercising and drinking all water because if you filled it enough you could get it out.

I was taken to x-ray which proved to be a difficult, I felt very much pushed around and put into an EXTREMELY uncomfortable position that upset me a bit. But I did get to see the x-ray and it looks amazing. A nurse came in and told me that Mr Hutt was pleased with the x-ray.

By Friday dinner time I was pretty over the catheter, uncomfortable and annoying and I was drinking heaps and filling it up. The Physio was happy I could walk myself to the toilet. I asked the nurse if I could get it out and she said I had to wait till morning. I was a little disappointed with that and willing to wait morning but it was driving me bonkers. The head nurse then decided to do it then and there because she felt that I would be okay. Not the most comfortable experience but very thankful for the nurse to get it out quickly and understand that I was over it.

My visitors went and I collapsed for the night it had been a long couple of days.

Nervous, nah.

Currently riding the Victoria line tube with two suitcases, my mother and Mr Gin also a percentage of London's tradesmen as they head to work. It is early, there are cheap energy drinks being clutched and gentle body sways of the people with the ability to sleep sitting up.
Today is the day. We are heading to Epsom to check in. Surgery is happening today.
I got asked at work if I was nervous a while back, the answer was no, bloody petrified but not nervous.
I've had enough operations to know what to expect, generally, I'm pretty good with general anaesthetics and I've researched the facility well enough to be comfortable they know what they are doing.
I'm petrified of the other side. The pain factor of having bone removed is unknown, the ability to bounce back is unknown and although I know the percentages of complications, they still scare me, a lot.
The threat of nerve damage and infection are looming shadows. Nerve damage, especially of the sciatic nerve worries me a lot. There is no guarantee of its location and in my case if it is not caught up in scar tissue. It is going to be stretched and nerves really dislike this, really, really. I have a friend who has periodic bouts of sciatica and to have that all the time is something I would struggle with.
Infection causes all sorts of mayhem, it may cause a revision, having to fix or put in another replacement. At my age, 41, I can not afford that. I'm only going to be able to have three possibly four replacements in my life, they last about 15 years and my grandmother lived to 93. As you can see, I really want avoid a revision.  I have had a friend who had revisions done in her 40s and the effect on her mobility is affected to a life changing extent. Again an outcome that I want to avoid at all costs.
So, here I am, an empty tummy and dry hands because no food since midnight and no moisturiser allowed.
At midday my life will change and hopefully Mr Hutt  will make it for the better. I have list of things I want to do when this is over.
So, not nervous but suitably scared of downsides to work bloody hard at avoiding them.