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.