Held together with Zip ties.

I am currently propped in my bed with Wonder Woman playing on the TV. My right leg is sore, painful to the bone but slowly getting there. Would you like to know how I got here? Are you okay with slightly gory post operative pictures? Yes? Read on! No? Close the window and find something else to read!
Last Tuesday I was up before the household, quick shower and final pieces packed and off I went, early enough to catch a night bus to the station. Travelled on the tube with the retail workers and work boots and tool boxes. My mohawk sans produce tucked up in a turban and a totally comfy but weird slogan for the day hoodie and I arrived early to UCLH. (University London College Hospital)

In totally British fashion there was a queue at the door as the department did not open till right on the dot of 7am. Peed in a cup and was told I was the first on the list. Which was a surprise but good. Went thought the standard medical questions and the nurse went off to get my gown and assorted gubbins. She returned with the news there was no bed for me at the moment and I would have to wait. No idea how long that would be and that generally these things resolved themselves. I hoped so, having to rearrange all the arrangements we had made would be a pain. The Anaesthetist arrived and was very pleased that I would rather a spinal over a general anaesthetic.

I sat around for a while, and Mr Gin joined me after dropping Squeaky off at childcare. I met Mr Hutt’s Fellow (possibly Registrar) and we signed forms and again I was told they generally sorted the bed issues out. While we waited in the waiting room Mr Hutt dropped in to say everything was ready to go ahead, all the bits assembled. He thought there was a bed but the surgery wouldn’t happen till the afternoon.

I was taken up around 11:30, dressed in the hospital’s finest gowns. I walked to theatre, this something if found interesting, normally there is a wheel chair or bed involved. I left Mr Gin behind, he wouldn’t be there when I got out as he had to pick up Squeaky.

The spinal went smoothly, both Anaesthetist , Mr John Dick and Chris (missed the last name) were lovely, apparently I sat very still but to be honest I didn’t feel it at all. Good work. Mr Hutt was relived that I had selected to be sedated, personally I didn’t want to be awake, nerves would make me extra chatty.

The operation was a bone graft, a piece of donor bone was to be attached to my femur with wires. The medicine/science is that the donor bone should grow into my bone and make it thicker, hopefully this will take the pressure that I can feel and spread the load. Thus hopefully lessening the pain from the stem tip that is resting against the inside of my femur.

I woke in recovery, a bit fuzzy and sore. Lovely staff, as always, recovery nursing staff tend to be the most attentive, I am assuming that recovery is a place that you have to be on your toes. I call Mr Gin, because they realised there would be no one to meet me and I really wanted to let him know I was okay. I had a lovely chat with a Filipino nurse, we talked about being a long way from home and the British weather. Then I was very proactive and threw up my nice short bread biscuit in a vomit bowl. I was feeling a bit dissociative which was to be expected but this nausea was not something I have had with a spinal. I was given a drug to help and then a swift and slightly painful bed change because my bladder was not really there so to speak and throwing up set it off. My blood pressure was low as was my heart rate, this was little bit weird, it is not a rare side effect of a spinal but the heart rate was causing concern. I needed to drink more water. Another nurse came in, a fellow who obviously spent a lot of time in the gym. We had a conversation about my gym experience as a 40 tiny woman compared to his as a hefty nurse. He felt my lower heart rate may result in being fit. (I am not sure if he was being nice, it is odd being called fit by a medical professional.)

I was taken up to the tenth floor where I was looked after by an amazing Irish nursing assistant called Kathleen, she found my home so I could call Squeaky which made me cry. She decided that a slightly nauseous, weepy, Australian mum needed that phone quickly and located it for me. She also took away the sausages and mash that landed on my table that really didn’t help and found a sandwich. Small things that helped. I rewarded her by throwing up the sandwich but in bowls, sadly still required another bed change. Another anti – nausea drug and pain killers followed. My temperature was low, not sure why, the nurses covered me up in blankets and tried to get me warmed. I was surprisingly in a single room, I was warned I would be moved onto a bay, which was fine, but I was happy to be a in a single room for the first night, feeling as spaced as I was.

A friend, H, who worked locally came over after work and sat with me for a bit. We looked at the amazing view over London but I have very little memory of the conversation because the combination of three anti-nausea meds, painkillers and wearing off sedatives really made life interesting. My blankets began undulate on their on accord, looking like that they were breathing. It wasn’t a pleasant experience but I think H thought it slightly amusing!

She left and I dozed for a bit. The downside to low blood pressure is that nursing staff want you to drink water, that in turn means that you need to pee and then that means bed pans! Ack, and getting onto those bastards is hard with a very stiff and painful leg! I hate, loathe bed pans. End of subject.
In the morning, the Surgical Fellow I met before the surgery arrived, looked at the scar, which is lower than my replacement scar, and felt that as long as the physio team agreed and I got an x-ray and that looked good I could go home that day. That was a little bit of surprise, we were expecting a bit longer and if we could get out in the early afternoon it would be all fine. My temperature was higher but blood pressure a touch low.

The Physio arrived, a lively lady named Stacey, arrived with crutches. I had morphine before she arrived in anticipation of this being tough but I was so ready to walk to the toilet it wasn’t funny. We went through a refresher of crutch using and I gently stood up. I then swore, a lot, it fucking hurt but manageable. Mr Hutt had told me that it was likely to be more painful than replacement, he wasn’t wrong. So, up I got, I was going to pee. I turned and my ears began to ring, my head felt tight and I felt really hot. I realised that I was going to faint. I told Stacey that I had to sit down, rapidly and she told me to lie down. She then harassed the bed to get my head lower than my feet. She was quite concerned and checked my blood pressure, which was low, not very low but a bit of concern and my colour was extremely pale. More goth than goth.  The Physio decided that I wasn’t going to be discharged the day with low enough blood pressure.  It took a while for my colour to return.

Stacey decided she would come back in the after lunch to see how I was going and do walking and stairs then. Annoyingly I was to stay in bed until she came back and that meant bed pans.

Mr Gin visited with snacks and I perfected some origami as we waited for the x-ray and physio. The Pharmacist dropped by and discussed drugs, including one that I had not tried before.
Dihydrocodeine, first test to see if it made me throw up and if it works.  During the day I ended up doubling it up with morphine as the pain was pretty full on. In an attempt to feel more human I changed into a nightie of my own which helped.

Stacey the Physio returned and I was fine with the crutches, although the leg was sore, I was happy to give it a go. We did not do the stairs as there was no wheelchair but I wasn’t going home anyway because the x-ray had not happened. But I did not have to use a bed pan so I did not care!
So, Mr Gin went off to pick up Squeaky and H dropped in before she went off a meeting. I was nice to have her company, we admired the view again and I wandered around a bit on my crutches. She headed off on to her meeting and I settled in for the night after saying good night to Squeaky. By 9:30 I was struggling to remain awake so I went to sleep.

The morning was an early start with the Physio turning up before the joy of the pain med cart. I walked on my crutches to the stairs, the leg was very sore but I was going to do this, I miss Squeaky and my bed. (I missed Mr Gin too, but I was seeing him.) There was two Physios and we went up and down a flight of stairs. Oh boy, it hurt, my leg is so stiff, the femur hurt a lot and the incision was tight. I did it though. I got back to my room and Stacey was a gem and located a some morphine, I was very pleased to see it. It takes a fair bit to put me in tears but there was I lying on the bed sobbing but after a while it settled.

Stacey was happy to discharge me, now it was only an x-ray and we were golden but considering they had ordered it yesterday, I was a little worried. I had a pain free nap and an entertaining time doing origami feeling floaty.

The x-ray happened and I got to see the hardware, I have five metal zip ties attaching someone else’s bone to my femur. No wonder it hurt! The x-ray technician thought I was brave, which not what I would call it.  There was a dressing change and the unveiling of the incision, it joins my replacement scar which means it that is one very long scar! The nurse said it was very neat.

The time was slipping away and Mr Gin had to go and pick up Squeaky. Thankfully the lovely R was pleased to duck out of work and wait with me while I butted my head against the wall of hospital policy about not prescribing oramorph. I was not happy with the pain management of the codeine, ibuprofen and paracetamol combo. It removed some of the pain but I wasn’t overly comfortable. The doctors suggested that I stay another night but I wanted to come home and hug Squeaky.
In the end I left with R and we had a bit of a tough time getting a cab due to being officially discharged at 5 pm. Getting discharged from hospital is unbelievably complicated and time consuming.

Home was lovely, Squeaky was lovely and it was good to see Mr Gin and eat real food. All in all it was a very different experience to Epsom and I felt it was odd that I only saw Mr Hutt once.

I see dead people in my future.

I have had a bit of a time with planning my next operation. The timings all centred around Squeaky Cub and him finishing with the Spica. When we knew the Spica journey was coming to an end I contacted Johnathon Hutt at St Georges, only to find out that he was moving to University College of London Hospital to take up a position there.

This put timings out a bit and I had to think if I wanted change hospitals or surgeon.  After thinking I decided to continue with Mr Hutt and we moved hospitals and I saw him three weeks after he started in his new role.

To resolve the pain issues from the implant I am going to have a bone graft to hopefully distribute the pain that flares up and either reduces or removes it.  The pain is okay in the summer but winter it can be terrible. I ended up on my stick a couple days with a cold snap and it certainly was nagging.

This stem pain is a known side of the implant (S-Ron) and the bone graft should resolve it. If it doesn’t then I am going to lump it and chase a toddler, as the other option is a revision and I am too young for that. Neither I not Mr Hutt are keen on that option, because in his words, those replacements are hard to take out.  The graft will be donor bone, so prepare for dead people jokes and a push to donate your bits when you move on. (Tell your family.)

When I saw Mr Hutt, he was not sure what his waiting list was like and I have some plans coming up that we needed to work around. With some phone calls I sorted a date with the lovely scheduler and I have surgery on the 17th of September.  This could very interesting; the recovery shouldn’t be as long as a replacement but could be more painful to begin with. This could be interesting with a toddler!

I have had the pre-operation appointment and considering there has been no communication it is all go. Fingers crossed Squeaky is walking and we have begun planning, the logistics are a little worrisome.

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!

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.

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.

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.

Chasing my tail

The two week deadline has passed for contact from the Elective Orthopedic Centre , no word, not a peep. I'm not surprised but slightly peeved that I'm not surprised.

So, today it will be chasing, chasing the health check date and hopefully a surgery date. Making sure it is Jonathan Hutt doing the cutting. Then chasing my doctor's surgery for a prescription of Naproxen, the drug that seems to be making life much more easier to deal with.

I will also be chasing work, re working from home, as the start date is looming for that. I'm glad that work have finally realised how bad it all is. It took a while, I'm not sure if they thought I should be in tears or something. I've formed the opinion my perception of pain is quite different to the rest of the world. I blame film for this, not all of us go around screaming and wailing. I go ofph, that is it, a small sound as the pain sharpens up. The same pain that reduced me to tears six months ago. The body is amazing. I do get relief, there are times it doesn't hurt but they are getting rarer. The drugs reduce it to a dull ache and the big drug, tramadol, can make the pain go completely.

 I have been helping my women's institute branch organise an early Halloween party.  To get through the evening I took some tramadol, I wore cool boots and divided my time between sitting and standing. It was a good time and I felt great besides the bottom of the barrel feeling of dislocation. My Halloween team and Mr Gin were aware of this and were great in making sure the barrel was not too deep. The evening was a success and I felt as close to the old me as I can get. I am hoping the new hip does this without the bottom of the barrel feeling.
 
My hat goes off to those who have much more pain and manage life.

I hope today I catch my tail.