Falling down trousers.

Spoiler alert : whining, swearing and possibly unpopular opinions about weight loss.

I am pottering along with trying to get rid of this damn implant pain. I have reached the goal weight I hoped may alleviate it but it still comes and goes. Admittedly less coming and more going but I am not convinced that it all the work I done and more likely a change in the weather.
I have given it a very hard work out, when in the Lake District we walked a lot, a scramble over rocks and up and down steep uneven stairs. Then a walk around Buttermere, an 8 km walk in the rain that left a lot of mud on my trousers and shoes after negotiating some rough terrain.  I was tired but it was well worth it and such a change from what I could do last visit to the Lake District. The implant was sore at points but not too bad. I have a horrid week about month or so ago where I really didn’t know what to do.

I am not worried when it twinges when doing squats in the gym, because that inflicted pressure but walking is a concern and some days I can feel it sitting. I am not sure what the outcome of the meeting with Mr Hutt in July will be like. I have kept my end of the suggestions for improving it, weight loss and muscle building.

I have managed to drop enough weight to move from severely obese to just obese, I know BMI is imperfect but it does have bearing on an idea how I am going, I am aiming for overweight, I am not sure I will get down to normal. I have lost 9.6% of my body weight and I am certainly fitter than I have been in a long time. I can swim 1 km in the pool without too many issues and this was something I struggled with before starting this endeavour. I do the cross trainer and can squat with 15 kg and do leg presses with 58kg. My back issues have settled down, which is great because I was concerned that was going to hang around for some time. My trousers need a belt and I am moving into smaller clothes that have been in drawers for quite some time. This of course, leaves the issue of quite serviceable clothing, including a swimming costume that do not fit. Mr Gin has said to get rid of them because together we are not going to let me expand to that point again, too much headache to get rid of it!

I need to shift my mind set that my weight wasn’t effecting my health. There is a lot of social media content about body positivity and I totally get that it is out there and people come in many shapes but western society is getting fatter and the issues with that can’t be ignored.  If we were our pets, vet’s would be having words and putting us on the most expensive diet kibble. We are animals, flesh machines and like most animals or machines putting in too much fuel in is never going to end well. There are plenty of health reasons, physically, that make losing weight difficult but if that was they were the only reason there would not be so much cause for concern. We are exposed to so many unhelpful situations; drinking cultures, cheap plentiful easy high calorie food, hidden calories, that women athletes are not sexy, sedentary life styles, being time poor for cooking or fitness, poor nutrition education, that you have to be reed thin to go to a gym and that not wanting to be fat is some sort anti-feminism stance.  So many issues. Personally, I find it difficult to continue justifying being fat when I know I feel worse for it and millions of people are starving locally and globally. I am happy to support friends who embrace body positivity in all its forms, as long as they support me too.  I am also happy to help others wanting to join me. End the ranty bit, possibly.

I puffed like a train coming up the stairs at my local tube station, now I do it without wanting to lie down for a week at the top. Watching what you is boring, I think about it a lot, I talk about it a lot because it is hard and depressing. I am finding being disciplined fucking hard work. The UK food portions are not designed for dinky women, I love a deep fried piece of meat, chips with mayonnaise and all the cheese. I love to bake, I love cake. Certainly growing up with a mother who was on diet after diet and then at 22 told me at a size 12 I had got fat did not help. I know I have self-control issues and a fucking love food, I love to cook and I cook for friends, family and lovers because I love them. A lot of these demons and habits I have to address myself but up until now I have not really had partners who actively helped. Mr Gin has been monumentally helpful even though I have cut his red wine consumption immensely and am trying to push both of our eating to the healthy side. For him, he has lost a bit of weight which he is pleased about.  He is also pleased I am walking more and generally not as tired when being normal, walking and stuff.

On the subject of walking, let us talk about my feet which are still annoying the shit out of me.  I saw a consultant about them, getting some custom made innersoles for my shoes and a referral for an ultrasound guided steroid injection.  I have been stretching, possibly not as much as I should but have been struggling with being quite low the past few weeks. I am not sure why that is and have tried to plan things to look forward to over the next few weeks, dinner with friends and an exciting Penn and Teller show. Also a birthday at the end of June which I need to work out if I want to do anything for.

Hopefully my meeting with Mr Hutt will be productive and if I do have buy new jeans I won’t kill anyone doing so.

Working hard, small improvements.

Trigger warning : I am going to talk about weight loss and assorted stuff.

First, feet. I am still having trouble with heel pain. I can have days were it is fine but other days it is a burning mess. I went to see a GP about them. She agreed I was approaching it well, all the right exercises, including the ones adjusted by the physiotherapist for my whacky hypermobile joints. So she referred me for steroid injections, into the soles of my feet. Which filled me with dread but frankly the cycle of inflammation needs to be broken. I am doing the best things possible with it all, stretches, massage and trying to stay off my feet. But some days even standing to cook dinner is too much.

Next, thigh pain, still there, unfortunately. I'm not game to run it still. I miss buses because of this. The cold does upset it, making itself known when walking in the chill the most. On a positive note, when coming up from bending down and going up stairs, it seems to have lessened. This seems to be down to some muscle building that I have been doing. I have been working very hard at this.

I have signed up with a weight lose program at work. It is eight weeks of Personal Training sessions and looking at my eating habits. The Occupational Health Doctor at work suggested it and I took her up on it. I am honest, I am overweight, I know this. I am not that happy with my body shape but I love food and I love to cook. I eat and drink too much. I have been making small changes because I felt a major immediate change was not going to last. I cut our diet coke in December, I started cutting out my snacks chips/crisps and chocolate in January, and in February I started going to gym three times per week. It seems to be working, I have dropped five kilograms in weight, through exercise and calorie counting. The goal is 20 kg by the end of the year, about 25% of my body weight. I am hoping that this will help with the thigh pain and avoid surgery. It also should help with the long term health of the joint, both metal and bone but I do find it tough that I am going to have to this regime for the rest of my life. I really hate the fact I am so short and the rest of the world seems to be aiming to feed people 8 inches taller than ma all the time. 

There has been a very happy change with my walk too, I went back to physio, they helped a lot, noting I was dropping into the joint instead of using my glute and thigh muscles. This has meant that I was still limping, and I was not happy with that, especially when I found out that both my legs are the same length. The Personal training combined with the physio has almost removed the limp and has definitely removed the rolling gait I had.  The muscles are building up and although my right leg muscles are still weaker than the left but I working very hard at making them even strength. The more I work at this the better the walk should get, removing the 40 years of walking badly. 

So,  there has been a lot of change happening in the past couple of months and I have found it it difficult mentally. My mental health has been very up and down, work has made it tough to with various uber stressful things that could have been avoided. I have found the program beneficial and have decided that I will do another in the summer to keep the body trimming down. The worst bit about this is I am going to have to buy new jeans, urgh I hate shopping for jeans.

Six months, really, yes really!

The Big Six month update.

It has been quiet on the blog because there is not all that much to report. Not much has changed but I have had the six months check up with Mr Hutt so an update feels to be in order. It is not an overly cheerful update because I am still frustrated but will try for an upbeat mode.

So, sports massage, brilliant idea, has sorted out my back. Fabulous! I have found a good masseur through work, she is close and reasonably priced. My rock hard calves have settled down which is brilliant. I suspect this is no longer a luxury but a necessary to help my body along as I try to sort this walk. Loosening muscles seems to help a fair bit and maybe it will help with the thigh pain I have having.

Thigh pain. A frustrating new thing along with a knee that is a bit sore and audible in its crunching! The thigh pain is from tip of the implant in my thigh bone, it is deep and ranges from nothing, a bit achy to quite sore. I rarely take pain killers for it but it is not something I want to live with. Mr Hutt has explained some of the issue comes from me being a dainty wee thing, well, short (153cm) and the stem being reasonably long. It tends to get sore when I put pressure on it from exercises etc. It is deep, under muscle pain. It was intermittent when I first got the hip done then disappeared and then came back in June and has not disappeared. Yet. There is hope as it all beds in that the pain will disappear and things will be peachy. The pain is such that I am bit wary of trying to run, even for a bus because I think that will be a nasty sharp pain. Mr Hutt, thinks in 12 month we will know if it is going to be an ongoing issue.

Sadly, if it does not go in that time, the only option maybe a revision and new hip. I want to avoid that. So much. So much. So at the moment lots research happening and exercising to gentle persuade the tip to bed in and the bone to become less sensitive! I just hope it is all worth it.

The knee could be muscles pulling on the knee cap which I will get my masseur to look at that and if that does not help, off to the GP! Frankly dodgy left knee is in the bad books because I would like the body to give me a break for a while.

Needless to say all the above it a bit tough to deal with and digest but recently finding someone with similar issues with the same implant and put in by the same surgeon has helped a lot.

Exercise. I hate the gym. But I am doing static biking, leg weight machine things and cross trainer. Not too much swimming lately but I am doing a fair amount of that, not quite cracked the 1 km in 30 minutes mark but hoping to soon. At some point there will be leg presses and rowing soon, if I can work out how to use the rowing machine!

The bloody walk. I have new sneakers but they are being rapidly destroyed by my twisty left foot. I am still hip hiking and a little bit of the waddle, a throw back from the old walk and also a bit with the thigh pain. Mr Hutt felt that perfection will not happen on its own and there are some terrible habits of a lifetime break. The skeletal foundation is the best we can hope for, we think the hip has settled about 1mm down which is not much but could have been the angle of the x-ray or a result of normal settling or a major collision I had with the floor 3 months ago. He is very pleased (as am I) with the movement I have. I can sit cross legged like a primary school child, this is something I have NEVER been able to do even as a child. The range of movement is very good and smooth. The muscles are building nicely but could do with some more building.  So, this means some more gym work and locating a physiotherapist to help with the walking. There is more in this than weak muscles, there are old habits and I do not really know what a proper walk feels like.  I think this is clincher, the past physio expected I would know what a normal walk would feel like. I really don’t I have never walked like a normal person, my gait has been awkward since I learned to walk on a dislocated hip as a two year old!

I am walking fair distances and with speed, I can keep up with Mr Gin pretty well and now there is no longer any forward planning for going out, I walk my local high street easily and climb two to three stories of stairs, although a bit puffy, quite well. My overall fitness and weight leave a bit to be desired but that is the story of my life and not really to do with the new hip. I could do with losing a good 30 kilograms and that might help with the overall fitness. Sadly, I find gym boring and rather like food and booze, so this is always going to be a struggle.  I have been walking more because of all things, Pokemon Go, it drives Mr Gin bonkers but gets me out and about. I am trying to catch buses that require more walking and generally not take the lazy way out. I have to try and cut down on the red wine.

Work is a stressful which makes cutting the wine down hard. We have a trip to Australia booked, I am sure that I will set some sensors off! I have also got it my mind this new hip is going to do some driving, a lot of it. I am looking forward to a holiday.

There is not much else to report besides a little six month celebration but that will get its own post!

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.

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.

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.

Divorce? Cake walk.

So, the waiting game has continues and managing crunchy hip continues.
This week has been good, I got a massage and it was my first Wednesday working from home. My boss had to be told to chill about it last week, he tends to over complicate matters. The day went well, I got a lot done and felt fairly rested at the end of the day.
The massage seems to help, my whole body is being affected by crunchy, with all the muscles in both legs, back, shoulders tightening. Freeing them gives quite a bit of relief.
The managing and waiting is stressful though. I get frustrated when there is another thing I can not do. Or becomes a struggle. Or requires Tramadol to complete. And everything takes so long! Staying close to home makes life easier but for me makes it more stressful because I miss out on things I like to do.
You see those lists of the most stressful things you can do in life, moving house and divorce being so of the most.
I've done both and divorce is worse than moving house, moving house there are lots of things you can do to make it less stressful. Divorce is horrid, mine was relatively civil with my ex husband wanting to get over with more than being a cock (although that did not stop him being a cock). Due the lack of children the divorce was relatively quick about eight months.
This saga started two years ago but ramped up in the last 12 months. The last six have been tough, a strain on me and my partner. We have moved house in all this too. For me a new job triggered how bad it had got and Mr Gin also got a new job. We really don't do things by halves.

I am trying my best to handle it all and you may think I am a little insane but am finally getting divorced from my second husband. Why in this stressful time? Because a new hip will be a game changer and I would life that a clean slate and also it remove the knotty next of kin issue, Mr Gin is that person, no one else.

Onward and upwards, limping, armed with a cane and damn the stress!