So, today I got a smacked wrist for not updating my blog so I thought that even tho’ hubby is still off work (and so therefore this week has counted as a verrry long weekend when I do approximately no blogging) I ought to do so – if for now other reason than to wish you all the happiest, healthiest and most prosperous New Year that you could ever possibly have!
I thought I might tell you all a heart-warming story too – especially since the weather is so sh*tty – I don’t know about you lot, but here it is grim, rainy, dull damp and cold with a bit of wind thrown in (although that may be the result of too many Christmas sprouts…). A heart-warming tale is just what is called for I think so:
“It was a dark and stormy night….” – actually it wasn’t at all, I just wanted to remind you of the recursive whatsit. In fact it was a lovely winter’s night, cold but crisp – the Saturday before Christmas and hubby drove into the pretty village following the directions I had given him. He was mystified why I had decided to book a night of passion away when we had so much Christmas preparation to do, but figured that I must have my reasons. We rolled up at our (very posh) bed and breakfast where we were greeted by the owner and the offer of a glass of sherry – in fact, they said they would refill the decanter if we emptied it, so it’s a wonder that we actually left the comfort of the lounge and got dressed ready for the dinner that I had booked in a local hotel. But, get dressed we did and got there a bit early so had a drink in the bar. I have to admit to choosing a table where I could watch the entrance as there was a surprise in store….
Right on 7.30 I went to reception and who should I see there but T (of A&T fame, remember them?). Now, to me (and T) this was no surprise at all since someone has to actually organise surprises) but A (who was in the process of taking off her coat) was completely dumbstruck. Of course when a good plan comes together, the perpetrators tend to hug each other so that’s just what T and I did. A turned around to see her hubby with his arms around another woman and it took a few seconds to register who it was. Then, she just stood there with her coat zip half undone, seemingly frozen in space, just staring at me and repeating my name slowly over and over in increasingly varied tones - surprise, shock, incredulity, joy, questioning etc, etc (you get the idea) T later said she sounded like one of those lorries reversing very, very slowly (try saying my name over and over and you’ll get what he meant!).
Of course, as many of you know, A has been a bit poorly this year and so she and T decided that they would have Christmas away from home and get “a real break away from it all” and they had booked an apartment in this village. T and I just came up with the plan to meet up on the Saturday night for a meal as a surprise for her. It sure was a surprise - I have never, ever seen her lost for words until now …and you know that thing where people don’t shut their mouths and their chins nearly hit their knees, they are so shocked …and you only thought it happened in cartoons? Wrong – it really does happen!
Well, it was then in to the bar, to surprise hubby, who as it turned had not been completely fooled by my seemingly innocent desire to get away for a night of passion (can you have an innocent night of passion??) – but even so, he was delighted that his suspicions turned out right! You just should have seen A though, she must have sat there for the first 10 minutes just staring at us and only saying things like “I can’t believe it” and “How did you do this?”….
Anyway, we then had a fabulous meal and a bottle of bubbly which T paid for (you naughty man! *1) and finally after A realised that it wasn’t all a dream we managed to catch up properly. We just had a wonderful evening and a brilliant start to our Christmas break.
Anyway, I have rambled on enough, but it was a great thing to be involved in – both for the surprise part and the chance to spend a good evening with great friends. For New Year we are doing nothing so spectacular (could we top that anyway?) – but I do wish to start my New Year’s Eve by again wishing you all the happiest, healthiest and most prosperous New Year that you could ever possibly have!
*1 You would say this about him even if he hadn’t paid for it all….
....uh huh - think about it....
Well Christmas draws near and I am going away for a night of passion with my lover. Actually, this is a bit of an exaggeration – it’s just that hubby and I are going away for one night before everything starts…no, silly, I don’t mean before the passion starts, I mean before the Christmas holiday really starts….
This year (as usual in fact) we have two lots of Christmas dinners to do – one on Christmas Day and the other on Boxing day for the two sides of our family (hubby’s and mine). It’s a lot of work every year but I love it. I have always felt that Christmas time is for the giving and that includes your services/self. I like to make people happy and this is just one way and I do this and show everyone just how much I care about them.
Also to show how much I care about all of you out there in cyberspace especially this year when even people all over the world who I have never met, have given me so much support, I want to say thank you and to give you all this…:
Oh yes, and since I don’t think I’ll be able to update you again before the ‘big day’ Merry Christmas to you all!
There I was, after a hard day’s scrubbing floors and the like (Christmas is coming so I must get the house clean before anyone sees what a pigsty we live in), sitting in my comfy armchair and wishing I hadn’t done enough work to make my back bad. There was suddenly a loud ringing in my ears …..and then I realised it was the doorbell! I heaved myself out of the chair and opened the door to find one small boy singing carols on the doorstep. Now saying that these kids sing carols is actually a bit of a lie ‘cos most of them ring the bell and as soon as you open the door sing “We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas, and a happy new Year” and then thrust out their grubby little mitts, expecting you to drop money into them.
I object to this – I object to the fact that they don’t know any proper carols, I object to the fact that they come round in ones and I really object to the fact that they want money for practically nothing*1. I know it’s the season of goodwill and all that but if anything its going to make me go bah humbug, then it’ll be that.
Anyway, as I said, I was grumpy ‘cos I’d done too much and my back hurt. I was in my comfy chair and didn’t want to get out and so when I got to the door and saw this boy on his own and giving me his own brief rendition of “We wish you”*2 I told him to go away and not come back until he was part of a group singing proper carols.
I toddled off back to my chair and had hardly sat down before the doorbell went again. On opening the door I was met by the same young man with 5 of his friends and as I opened the door they started the traditional “We wish you….” before swiftly moving on to two verses of “Oh Little Town of Bethlehem” – it was at this point that I cracked and went into the house to get my purse! D’you know, they even carried on singing while I was back in the house and then gave me a verse of Jungle bells before they left. I admit it, I gave them a couple of quid to split between them – after all, he had done exactly as I’d asked…
My only regret is that I didn’t get them to sing Oh Come all ye Faithful in the style of Twisted Sister. Now that really would be worth serious money….*1Its like Halloween, - in principle, I don’t object to Trick or Treat at all, even if it is an imported American tradition – in fact I think the idea of small kids getting dressed up and going out with a bag for sweeties is pretty cute. What I do object to is surly and threatening teenagers who ring your bell, stick their hand out wanting money and if you don’t give them any they egg your car!
*2 …and surely since he was on his own it should have been “I wish you…”
Now I know I told you that I was away with the BMB the weekend before last, but I did forget to tell you all about my adventures with the door and since they were so exciting, I thought you’d better not miss out….
The place that we normally stay is a pretty old building and the original architect had obviously never heard of the Disability Discrimination Act (Rights to Access) . I’m guessing that it wasn’t a big issue in 1820 since although the wheelchair seems to have been around in some form or another since ummm ages ago (OMG, ancient China, really?), there were always a few more servants around to carry you up the stairs – hey who needs independence if you’ve got a few footmen looking for a job? I dunno tho’ the BMB might be a good mate, but I don’t think he’s carry me up stairs at all – he’d collapse (luv ‘im) under the weight….! Anyway, I’m digressing (nothing new there then) and want to get back to the tale.
So, we have established that this place is old and I should add that there are a few (3 or 4) steps up to the front door. At present, wheelchair users go through a side entrance and everyone else goes in through the front door. That includes me, ‘cos I can manage steps just fine with my sticks.
In an effort to make life easier for everyone (and to comply with the DDA) they decided to fit automatic openers and closers to the front doors. Just like any other automatic door, they work with a little sensor that ‘sees’ you coming and triggers the motor to open the door. Actually at the risk of digressing some more, the one at a nearby Tesco used to be a target for the local kids from the estate; they would run to and fro in front of it and the door would be open, close, open, close, close open, open, close close….eeek and then the motor would go phut! So, what do you think they did to stop this happening? They set the sensor to about 5 ft tall so that kids were too short to set it off. Sadly I am also too short to set it off and I have to wait for a grown up to come along before the door will open for me…
Anyway, that has nothing really to do with this story apart from the fact that they both have sensors! Now these doors where we stay have got shiny new sensors and motors and are set to open, stay open for a few minutes while you go up the steps and into the building and then close again behind you. Now I may have mentioned that I am a slow walker and I am even slower on steps (can you guess where this is going?). The doors open, I go up the steps, I get to the doors and start to go through – the doors start to close, but I am not through, I’m in the way of this heavy 16ft tall door*1. There is no sensor to say that there is a person in the way (like there is for lift doors*2) and the doors continue to close pushing me backwards. Now, I don’t have much in the way of balance – if you try and push me over backwards, I will fall – in fact I don’t even need pushing, I can fall over backwards just by looking up, or by someone breathing a bit too hard near me, so the relentless pressure of the door has an easy job of it and I fell backwards into the arms of the BMB who just happens to be behind me *3.
This happens 3 times over the course of the weekend and I am now making sure that every time I go near those doors I have someone behind me to catch me. I am trying to make a sprint for it (stop sniggering right now) but think that the doors can see me coming and are closing faster every time! (This may of course simply be paranoia and is therefore best ignored)….Now, maybe you had to be there, but it was actually really funny…..! 
*1.It may not actually be 16ft, but it must be at least 12ft
*2 Er, umm, that would be elevator doors – (do we really have a common language?)
*3 No, this is not some kind of an excuse, it really happened this way…
Yesterday I mentioned a proper balanced picture and today, rereading it (yes thank you I am feeling a bit better today) I had a little chuckle. You see, pre-op I never had a proper balanced picture of anything because I leant over so far to the right. If I didn’t tip my head to the left, the horizon was all off kilter. In fact I used to get a lot of muscular neck pain from holding my head at such a funny angle and I was always asking for neck massages to help ease out the tension. The shame of it is now that I have no decent excuse to ask all those nice men with strong thumbs to rub my neck for me……………………….(oops sorry, just drifted away a bit there……)
.........Pinches self…
Ah, yes, where was I? Oh yes, balancing pictures and all that. On a similar subject, when I was away on the weekend, at the dinner table I was talking about how I almost always say yes if someone asks me for a favour and I came out with the fact that I shouldn’t do it because I’m just making a rod for my own back. There was much smirking and chortling at that and I have discovered that I will never be able to use this expression again without thinking of x-rays….
I am sore today. I know that I almost never say such stuff, but today is one of those days to tell it like it is. After having spouted on at how my recovery is so much better than it used to be, I now feel I have to own up to the times when I feel pretty tender to give a proper balanced picture.
On the weekend I was away with the BMB and the SPF (among others) and did a lot of hard physical stuff. Yesterday I kept going on adrenalin and report writing*1 and today I am sore. It is time to admit that I am not superwoman – (which is a shame as I always had a secret fantasy to look like this.)
Ah well, I’m sure I’ll be back leaping tall buildings by tomorrow…..
*1 I can guarantee that you will almost never see these things in the same sentence – it may even be a Googlewhack!
Technorati Tags: scoliosis; spina bifida; ....Sorry, but they have to go in somewhere!
So, here I am again, writing about my back and my progress, which, I’m thinking is not really so different from last month. I think up ‘til last month I kept thinking I’m doing so much better than I was a month ago, a week ago or even a day ago but I think progress has ground to a halt. I don’t know if this means that I am now ‘better’ (from my surgery) or whether it has slowed down to a dull crawl because of the winter but for whatever reason , I am at the status quo. Of course, I would prefer to be at a Status Quo concert than merely maintaining it within my own house but its not every day Rick Parfitt drops round to tea*1 and you can’t have everything !
I have finally realised that having back surgery is not a cure for back pain. I still get my days where I wake up very stiff (as opposed to most days where I wake up a bit stiff but get moving fairly easily) and I recently decided that even though I had been told the surgery was no cure, I still hoped and actually I was a bit disappointed that it wasn’t. It’s easy as well, in the early days of your recovery, to think that you are going to be pain free – this idea is mostly fuelled by large amounts of very strong painkillers (mmmm PCA) and the fact that you don’t actually do very much to stress your back in the early days. Once you start doing all life’s normal stuff and cut your painkillers down too, you find that actually you are not invincible after all!
I don’t help myself in that sometimes I really do overdo it – I go training for sport on top of all the housework and then get annoyed that my back hurts. One day I will learn – what I don’t know, but I’m sure I’ll learn something…..*2
Anyway, on a practical note, my walking is pretty much the same – on a good day it's maybe a bit faster than it used to be, but I still resort to shuffling round like a little old lady on occasion. The nerve pain in my leg is same old, same old so I cannot cut the pills down from the level they are at. The good news is that they seem to have no side effects so I am pretty happy.
Beyond all that the only other thing to report on is the weather (see, British) and the effect it seems to have on me. Now it was always the case that I was a bit more achy in the cold and damp but now, I feel the cold quite badly in the centre of my back quite high up. It’s about where the rod is closest to the skin and it’s like an icicle inside me. Now anecdotal evidence is that your rods can get cold and I’m going with that because that’s what it feels like to me. It’s certainly pretty odd…
Regarding my scar, it’s healed really nicely and is fading well. It still gets sore and I can still do enough to make it swell up. My physio tells me it’s an indication that I am doing too much – surely not…..too much? Moi?
Re-reading all of this, makes me feel that I’m having a good old moan about things when really that’s not the case. The list of good things about getting my back done far outweighs the list of bad. Leaving everything aside about how an increase in curvature would have crushed my lungs and squished my insides generally, the upshot of it all is that even if I still have pain it doesn’t have the same kind of impact on my life. My painkillers work much better and my recovery is hugely improved from my pre-op days. That in itself would have made all worthwhile, but the effect that feeling better about your body, the option to buy any style of clothes you fancy also has an amazing psychological impact on you. If we’re going back to that age old question of would I have it done again? Well, I’d have it done again if the recovery was twice as long and much more painful. Now I say that, when I still have two 30ish angles and I know that there are people who still think that’s not great, but look back to where I came from…..amazing isn’t it?
*1 Not, you understand, that he has ever, dropped round for tea….
*2I feel a visit to answers.com coming on, I must be able to learn something there surely…..
So, hubby and I were sitting in bed the other morning and putting the world to rights as we had nothing special to be getting on with. It’s turned into a kind of Sunday morning ritual since we no longer get the Sunday papers delivered when at least we didn’t have to talk to each other. (I am of course, only joking, hubby is a very good listener, and I let him say stuff from time to time too….)
Anyway, there we were, in bed on Sunday morning and (being British) our conversation turned to the weather – specifically what a foul night it had been the night before with driving rain and howling winds. As an aside at this point (and for no other reason than it popped into my head right now) – I think I can tell you all (since I am sure I will get plenty of sympathy) that my poor little car has a leak in the boot *1 and that since I discovered it, it has done absolutely nothing but rain. I am mopping water out with a towel and strategically placing things inside so they don’t get dripped on! Oh yes, and on the same subject, whatever happened to the wonderful little product of “Seek and Seal” – just when you need something you can’t get it anywhere – grumble grumble moan moan….*2 
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, sitting in bed etc and discussing the nasty night time weather. In the midst of this discussion, I turned to hubby and said:
“it was a dark and stormy night and the captain said to the cook…..” and hubby looked at me with a completely blank face - I was astonished – hadn’t every parent told their child at some point:
“It was a dark and stormy night and the captain said to the cook, “Cook! Tell us a story”, and it began like this…”
“It was a dark and stormy night and the captain said to the cook, “Cook! Tell us a story”, and it began like this…”
This tale goes on ad nauseum and my parents always told it adopting more and more ludicrous accents and voices for the Captain and the cook.
As children, for some insane reason we thought it was really funny and I assumed it was a part of everyone’s childhood. Well, not hubby’s it seems and www searches turn up relatively few instances too. Of course, there is the guy who “found it hysterically funny” and that was when his story didn’t even have a cook in it!
Anyway, apparently this type of tale is called an infinitely recursive story and this 'particular' variation is based on English novelist and playwright Edward George Bulwer-Lytton and his much-quoted first line, which is reputedly the worst opening line (ever) to any novel. Now, every year, there is a contest to find the new worst opening line called the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest (unsurprisingly). Gosh, its amazing what you learn on a Sunday morning, isn’t it…..
*1 Er, that would be trunk to all you people over the pond. A boot being not only the thing you shove on your foot to protect your toes (especially those with bits of steel inserted) but also where you shove your shopping in your car (that is, if you aren’t lazy and shove it on the back seat). Anyway, over here a trunk is something the Victorian gentleman might have taken on holiday with him – or something that Nelly the Elephant packed before she went off for a life filled with fun and excitement…..
*2 If anyone out there knows how to find it, please, please, please, pretty please, get in touch……
So, last week I went to the hairdressers and came out very different to the way I went in! I have always had my hair (very*1) short, but over the time I was in hospital and recovering I ended up not getting my hair cut and so it grew – a lot! (Well, a lot for me anyway!). I had lots of nice comments about how I looked nice with longer hair and so I decided to keep it for a bit but have to admit that I was finding it pretty hard work. I have what my hairdresser calls ‘strong hair’. Now most folks would take that as a compliment but actually it’s just a polite way of her saying that unless we style it to death I will look like a scarecrow ‘cos my hair just does what it wants to do. This has meant that I have over recent months become very well acquainted with my hairdryer and wonder of wonders had to buy (and learn how to use) hair straighteners. Well, anyone who knows me will know that I am the kind of girl who want to wash and go – faffing around with my hair is not really my thing and so after much discussion with my hairdresser I decided to go a bit shorter again. I’ve not gone back to the days of ‘shave it up the sides and back and leave it a bit longer on the top’, but still it’s shorter than it was.
We’ll, then we got to chatting about Christmas and how its nice to be cheerful whenever you look in the mirror and how bright colours really suit me (well, that’s what she said and it’d be her I’d be paying the money to if you get my drift) so….I have gone red – not auburn, not ginger, but red – well, red violet to be precise *2 ! It’s wild and I love it….Christmas here I come…..
*1Scrap that and read ‘very, very’ short.
*2This is not me, but you get the idea…..
