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!

Quilting for the win.

Mum trims the binding.

Three weeks! 

Crunchy hip was evicted with extreme prejudice by a fellow named Hutt! There is a movie in there, I am sure.

I have a couple of in depth posts in my head and have started some. So, looking forward there will be a post about the actual exercises I do,  medication adventures, packing your bag for a hip replacement , hacks for stopping your crutches falling over and hopefully a video on putting on TEDs!  

The reason for lack of real post today is my mother and I have been doing some sewing and have almost completed a patchwork quilt. When she offered to come over to help out for a month, Mum asked if there was a project I would like to do. I wanted to finish a quilt that I started three years ago. It has been waiting for this time it feels. It was pieced together, I had wadding and backing but do to not being confident, I was yet to assemble it.

Once I was feeling better and bit more mobile, Mum got us moving and taught me to put it together and then we quilted it and today the binding went on. I am very proud of it. 

The big bonus is that if I am sewing, I have to move around. Using the machine is not too bad but have to be careful with the angle I use the pedal. My mother is a master quilter and she was more than happy to help and get me moving to finish it. It is a bit of rough and ready, not really straight but prefect for a snuggle quilt and being dark, if there is a red wine spill, it will be okay.

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.

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.

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.

Sock Yoga.

How I put socks on!  Hopefully this will change!

Toes and good to go.

So, one of the biggest issues I've had is my feet in general. Putting on shoes and socks has increasingly become more difficult.
I have a yoga routine to get my socks on and have worn the same pair of slip on sneakers for the past four months. Everywhere and with all outfits.
The other issue has been looking after my feet in general. Cutting my toe nails has always been odd. I tuck my foot under the opposite leg and cut them backwards, sole up first. Very odd position but worked for me. I no longer can do that for one leg.
Mr Gin did it a few times but that freaked both of us out.
Some work colleagues suggested I get a pedicure, what a brilliant idea. But that would be a complete stranger playing with my feet was going to take some effort. I'm a bit funny about people touching my feet.
So, a couple of weeks ago I headed to a local nail bar and soaked my feet, had the nails trimmed and cleaned, all rough bits removed and finally a deep red polish applied. It was odd and lovely. My feet looked amazing.
Yesterday I did it again, mainly to have the nail polish removed.
This because the surgery team need to look at my nail beds to check my circulation.
I have my instructions for my surgery day, only two days away now. 9 am role call and like gremlins no food after midnight!
It is getting real now.

Good bye old friend

Scars, I have a lot of them. I have little nicks on my hands, chicken pox on my fore head and belly and of course the one on my jaw from childhood bath fall accident. Most people have them, scars are a sign of life will lives, they are stories of carelessness or bravery or so small you can not remember where they came from.
My body shows the story of my hips in stark relief. I have a 2 cm thin white line on my right wrist. It is a reminder of what happens when a two year old rips out an IV line.  I have another on my knee from an ulcer that developed because nothing is going to stop a six year old running around, not even a half body cast. (Although my mother did keep me from getting it too wet, like similar aged boy we saw one day, his cast was brown and smelled!)

The big guys are hidden, I have a lovely curvy one on my left hip and a whole world of train train tracks and fun on the right.  I used to I use to fairly self consciousness of the scars, growing up in Australia and being a swimmer they were on display a lot and you picked up the furtive stares. As I have got older it is less of an issue. I worry about my belly more than my old friends.  Along with my limp they just tell a story, not all that interesting but on that has been intervening in my life. Effecting decisions and general  life.
I have hidden them, hated them and slowly grown to love them,   I have photographed them and am comfortable showing them off.




But on Thursday I am going to lose one. The long straight one down my right thigh. The one someone once though was cotton hanging from short shorts.



It will be cut out and a new scar will be in its place.  This feels a little odd. It is the last one that was opened, I can remember the stitches coming out.

The new one will be longer and will trace around onto my butt.  Something to photograph?  Yep.

Heading out and staying healthy

Well, it is 7 days to go, this time next week it should be all over besides the fat lady groaning.

It was drummed into me when I at the health check, if I had a cold the operation would be off!

So I have spent the last few weeks looking like a Casualty extra who has wandered off set or I 'm auditioning for a star wars role wearing my face mask on the tube and generally out in London.

Also I'm obsessive with hand wash, and anti-bacterial things, this is not really me, at all. I am in the what does not kill you will just make you stronger camp.

I am also avoiding parties and gigs, which is depressing and wearing the mask at the cinema. Very sexy! Pictured above is my going out kit. Drugs and anti-bacterial stuff abounds.

So far so good, no sniffles or cuts or scratches. Fingers crossed for the next week.

Two weeks to go and I can not wait.

So, it is two weeks today till surgery and I can not wait. I am over the pain and in the grand scheme of things I have little to belly ache about it.
I am in the privileged position that my pain should disappear within month of the operation.  It may hurt from time to time but it has always been manageable. I was born broken and although my mother did the best she could in a small country town, I was not fixed. In the end a very good surgeon did the best he could with a bad situation. We knew that it was all going to pear shaped at some point and it was just a matter of time. Having always being broken, I don't really know different and it is just a way of life, frustrating at times and down right depressing at others but on the whole fairly happy and my normal.
Recently, someone on the Internet suggested I had more right to complain about pain and illness than others, because they felt I had an identifiable issue. ie mashed up hip. And I was 'allowed' to whinge. This rankles quite a lot.  Not only because that sort of statement is pretty ridiculous but also because it touched on something that I have been thinking about for a long time. The privilege of pain and that I am in the white straight man zone.
First, I just want to talk a little about pain. Up until recently I have had bouts of being pain free, if I sat for a while or was in bed it was pretty good. I know can feel the joint in bed and some day there is little I  can do to ignore it and have taken all the pain killers. I hobble about and swear a lot and rest a lot but I can get stuff done. Not as much as I would like but I am pretty good at working out what I can get done on a given day. But I have had to adjust everything in my life. I am not out as much, when I am out, I am packing heavy pain killers so I can walk, socialise or generally try and live life, within a hip that is rubbing bone on bone allows.
It is isolating because being at home is the best, less distance to walk, no pesky public transport and comfy couch and amazing bed. Our couch also allows me to lie down and there is a big arse telly with Netflix and a the Skybox. So, home is safe and cosy but we do live a fair way away from most of our social life when you are on a cane and restricted with distance.
That isolation plays havoc with your mental health, social media shows people out and about doing things, some that you have had to turn down. As time wears on getting people to come to you and getting to things becomes harder and it is easier to curl up at home. At home I have one person to complain to. Mr Gin is lovely but he does not need to hear that, me being in pain is tough for him too. He is doing more around the house and in general being the rock for my crazy. And crazy is the operative word. I have a couple outlets, social media, taking photos and sewing. Sewing is becoming difficult as the standing and the physical action of using the sewing machine foot is getting harder. So, the outlets are becoming smaller and social media is the best place to feel less like you are alone, driving the love of your life nuts. Facebook is a pub and twitter a huge nightclub.  Inevitably you end up being that person who has a one update. Or a couple, that revolve around how shitty you feel and you are cancelling again. But it is an outlet and an important one.
But I am very privileged. I have a light at the end of my tunnel, I have juggled and am on a road that should lead to new and possibly a better normal. As long as it does not go wrong relatively pain free, able to dance all night and then walk home. Why is this privilege? Because there is an end.
I have a number of friends with chronic conditions there is no end, there are less pain options but you have to give up something in some cases or there is simply nothing that can be done but managing life and expectations. And that isolation I have only had to deal with a short period is their life. And justifiably they have to have outlets because life is bed of roses and roses have big bloody thorns.  One friend, who has Ehlers-Danlos, a rare joint disorder was on the receiving end of some nasty stuff because she vented on Facebook. I was once briefly was misdiagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos, I am just overly bendy, nothing that causes the issues she has. And has no way to get away from them. Personally, I would be complaining a lot more than she does. And hell, more than most friends with issues.
Mainly because I have walked in their shoes for a mile and I don't like it, not one freaking bit. I am prevailed and acknowledge it. Next time you see that whiney sick mate complaining on Facebook, don't tell them to pull their socks up. Offer to take the party to them or just listen. And don't be a dick.
Bring on Thursday two weeks away.

Health check!

So, finally, I got my health check. One of the most intensive health assessments I have ever done.

There was five hours of public transport travel, four different questionnaires, three vials of blood, two different nurses and one X-ray and pee sample.  And that was just the highlights.

Mr Gin and I travelled across London to the Epsom General Hospital and the Elective orthopaedic Centre.  We were there for two hours but there really was not much waiting around. The waiting room was filled with older people but the nursing staff seemed used to younger patients. (I know I am 41 but in this procedure I am quite young)
There was a quick height and weight check along with a charming stick up the nose moment.
Then a different nurse took some of the most comprehensive health questions I have ever had. We worked out that I have had 15 General anaesthetics, a fairly high amount. It was nice to meet a medical practitioner that knew the proper names for the procedures I have done!

Also there was a "Wow!" when the x-ray below was produced! Apparently I do good work.  For comparison I have included the x-ray from nine years ago. Sorry for the poor quality.

2009

2015

At the end of the health exam, with all the bells and whistles including checking that all my blood goes to all the right places, she answered a number of concerns as we had.  It was drummed into me not to be sick and I am taking lots precautions to avoid colds, scratches and anything that could halt the procedure.

Then there was blood given and x-ray taken. Then we headed home.

All together painless and now the serious count down begins.

Have Cape Will Travel!

I have just spent a week in the Lake District.

Travelling with a dodgy hip makes for an interesting time when going into an area of natural beauty with mountains and mud. In nature there are hills, stones, steps and not many bust stops which can make it tough to make it an enjoyable time. But we had a plan!

We had a car and a lot of tramadol. We had a small list of things we wanted to do and as it is late November in the UK the days are short. This meant we could keep our days at manageable length by trying to returning back to our holiday home before dark.

The other part of the plan was to take strong pain killers and hope I did not buy all the shiny things and also  not do too much and make sure what we did was accessible. Mr Gin said he would rather a slightly drugged me than me being in pain. I took this on board , I don’t like the feeling of being on tramadol and there was one point I felt like my brain had shrunk and I could feel a breeze  between my brain and skull, not very nice. It did mean I could walk further and we did something every day. And most of it involved some walking, generally I rested in the evening and in the mornings not too much pain to deal with! Mr Gin was a trooper and had to explain to some shop keepers as I lost track of my thought’s and found money a little tricky at time. Oddly I found dealing with my camera generally fine. I used my cane outside all the time and found most people aware off it and got out of my way which helped too.

A couple of places that deserve mention for their amazing accessibility and views as, for me, most of the views were out of my reach with the walking.  The first was  Force , an amazing water fall in the Pennines. The walk was a wide gravelled path, a little steep at the beginning that would be a challenge for wheel chairs coming back. For me it was very comfortable, and it was only at the falls I skipped the short flight if steps to the river side. The views all the way were stunning and not going down the stair did not mean I felt I was missing out!  Brilliant.

The old railway line walk in Keswick was also lovely, it was a little muddy and stout boots would be advisable. The bridges were well constructed and had anti slip bits. It is part of a bike trail to the coast there were no steps. The general feel was tranquil and well used with lots tourists and visitors using it, from bike riders, joggers, older walkers and lots of dogs using the trail. We were assured there was good coffee at the end.

We visited Beatrix Potter’s Cottage, the house is generally not open and I suspect would be very much an old building with the standard issue winding stairs and narrow doorways and tight interiors. The original cobbled path was a challenge but we did find an asphalt path which was much easier to navigate.  There were some steps into the main building but I think there was a way around this. The cottage is run by the National trust and the staff were super helpful.

Castlerigg stone circle was amazing to visit, located in a field there was a little bit of a sort ground issue and if you were on your own the self-closing gated could be a challenge. We parked right outside and just crossed the road to get in. At the entrance there was a bronze plate with the relief casting of the circle for those with vision loss. The hill was a little steep and the grass deep but I got up the hill to be greeted with the most magnificent view. Just breath taking. The circle was lovely and the view stunning. Had it been any wetter I figure the grass would be mud but certainly accessible.

A lot of the Lake District towns are old and therefore have the standard issues of steps and generally getting into places. In general we did not find many places with toilets down stairs or upstairs like you do in London. Most of the pavements were well cared for but of course there were places there was no pavement and you had to go onto the road. Most of the curbs were low and dropped in many places.

Finally the most wonderful thing was it was possible to get to parts of the lakes and drink in the views and even driving around in the car the views were stunning.

With the all the planning and work arounds we had a great time, but so will be back when I can climb some mountains. 

An entertaining nights viewing, possibly.

As part of my pack of information I received a DVD of patient information.
This is produced by the Elective Orthopaedic Centre (OCE) out in the wilds of Epsom. It is a practical video, moving through all the stages of the hospital stay and beyond.

There were lots of talking heads, generally the head of the division that they represented. They do 5000 procedures a year. And are world leaders. The wards look clean and modern and they have some strict suggestions for pre-operation, including a visit to the dentist and a flu jab. Both of these I'm going to try to chase down. They have low rates of infections for good reasons. They also want people to cut back on the booze, this could be harder than finding a NHS dentist appointment in December!

There were no real surprises, I have read all the pamphlets they sent. I suspect we are going to need a sexy toilet seat for the first little while and carry a firm cushion for the tube and other sitting experiences. I am currently looking at options to decorate the compression stockings.
It was validating to see my stick my leg out behind me yoga pose for picking up items is a "hip safe" effort. I would like to see what they make of my broken crane yoga wobbling pose I use for putting on my socks.

The patients show were generally old except for the young man in suit trousers and shirt, I think they found him by advertising for a job and filmed the interview. Mind the surgeon speaking to him was in his scrubs and frankly had such an odd head covering we thought he may have been a Dr Who extra.
I learnt there was a colour code with the nursing staff but sadly it was not traffic light colours.

They educated about correct use of crutches and canes, no martial arts involved with that, frankly, again disappointed. I am seriously thinking about inventing a walking stick martial art. They showed a walking frame too, ye olde zimmer frame, still not as cool as the walking frame I had when I was six. It I have to use one of those in the real world I will be adding flames and go faster stripes.

There was a brief moment I thought they we going to talk about post op sex, something I interested in and I am lead to believe is Mr Gin. But no, I have to ask for a separate pamphlet for that excitement. To quote a friend it is like, "GO and read the erotic fiction in the tie in book" That's so lame! When I get the pamphlet I will share it with you, I expect it to be very clinical and unimaginative.

There was no operations show, there was even a trigger notice on the cover saying this. I was disappointed, now considering if they ask to film the op, to ask for a copy. A bit gross and morbid but play to your strengths.

So, in short the DVD was entertaining but lacked any gore or adults scenes.

We have a date.

This came in the mail today. It is not a surprise to me, I had been rung to confirm it but I wanted to have it in writing.

So 2016 is the year of the Hip. The year of the S-RON! 21 of January. A Thursday.

I have a lot of pamphlets to read and a DVD, no operations show.  Boo.

If you can read the procedure line on the letter, there is a word in brackets. (Complex) I think I may have to get that tattooed somewhere.