So there I was, sitting in my nice comfy chair in a nice warm lounge waiting for the dinner to cook and hubby to come home. I was warm and snuggly and happy with life as I’d had a day where nothing had gone wrong (don’t you just love them!). Anyway, all that was about to change as hubby came in looking very cold and peaky and muttering things about doom and gloom and the state of the world. “We’ve got a problem” he says – “the car window is broken!”. Well, you know that thing where twenty thoughts all rush through your head at once? Yes? Well mine went something like this:
- The car window is broken...
- Someone broke it...
- Someone broke in...
- They will have stolen something...
- That means insurance...
- Even if they didn’t steal anything it still means insurance because the window was broken...
- Oh no, we’ll have to call the police because otherwise the insurance won’t pay up...
- The police are useless they’ll take all night just to do the paperwork...
- Tea will spoil...
- B*gger, there goes my evening...
- And so on and so on up to twenty…
Well, that was it, coat on, and toddled outside to examine the damage. Turns out, that the mind race had been completely up the spout, it’s just that the poor window had fallen off its mountings and disappeared inside the door. There was just this little triangle of glass poking up out of the gap! No wonder hubby had looked cold and peaky – he'd had to drive back from the car park on the coldest night of the year with just a 3” triangle of glass between him and the outside world! Anyway, the electric motor was still working OK, so between us we managed to poke the button and push and pull the glass until it at least covered most of the hole and the evening wasn’t spoiled at all!
Just in case you want to know what has happened to it now, I took it to the garage and P@NGD managed to get it shut – he also disconnected the switch so it’s fixed where it is just for the time being. We’ll get it sorted when the weather is warmer I think…
I just realised that I promised you all some more topless photos, so today I got topless and took them. Focus isn’t that great, but what do you expect with the camera balanced on top of the TV and the curtains closed so the lighting was poor. What do you mean, why didn’t I open the curtains? I was topless to take these, why do you think? I know we have a nice big fence, but I wouldn’t put it past the kid in the upstairs flat across the back lane to be hanging out of the skylight with a pair of binoculars*1 ….
Anyway, here are the results for you. I am now not far off 12 months post op and as you can see my scar is really very, very neat. All the redness is fading well and although I’m sure it will never disappear, its hardly ugly. The second photo also really shows up the fact that they didn’t do too much about the rib hump and I guess its worse that a lot of people would like in my situation. For me, I don’t care – I can’t really see it without twisting to look in a mirror – actually that’s not true. Pre-op I could twist to look in the mirror, but now – hah! Twist? No way…! So.. I can’t see it and if anyone else can, who cares?
Actually on the subject of twisting/bending etc, it is surprising how you can cope without it. I can still bend from the hips, its just my back doesn’t bend and I can still twist at the neck (but not in a Linda Blair kind of way) – in fact, my physio recently was surprised at how I could pick stuff up or look behind me with really minimal movement through my back. Good news really even if I did want to spend my life with hunky men at my feet picking up stuff that I drop (but not on purpose of course!)….
*1 Actually, I have no idea if there is such a kid, or even if the house with the roof-light is spilt onto flats but a girl can get paranoid when she’d topless - all sorts of scary things flash through your brain….
There you go, all that excitement and the men go away. I toddle outside and look at what they have done. The answer? Well, umm, nothing at all to the drain. You see, from my window (and at a funny angle) it looked like they were working on the drain when instead they were digging a hole in the pavement very close to the drain. Shortly after, (when I was out) a big pole was inserted into the hole. It looks just like the lamppost which is 15 ft away from it, but with no light on the top, so now, looking out of my front window I have two big metal poles flanking my property – one lit up at night and one just swaying in the breeze (not that we have breezes here recently, lately its been whipping wildly in the gales) but otherwise (as far as I can tell) completely useless. Hurrah for the council I say!
Oh yes, and as to the drain? Well watch this space, there will be cake here in August (for the drian) and yes….there will be a party, but it will be the last Saturday in July! As to the suggestion of it being a drain party, well, I dunno, people might bring water (or worse) instead of wine….
We have a drain in the street outside our house and shortly after we moved in it got blocked up*1. I called the Council because it’s their responsibility and they said they would send someone out. I felt that I had fulfilled my civic duty and promptly forgot about it.
Now, we live on a hill and so this drain isn’t really vital – when it rains heavily the water just runs down the hill to the next drain, but all the same, it sometimes means negotiating a real fast flowing river when trying to get to the car. With legs as short and incontrollable as mine, many’s the time I cursed as I misjudged the distance to the far side of something that looked like the white water rapids and plonked my foot right down in the middle of it!
Well, winter turns to spring, spring to summer and summer to autumn and autumn back to winter. The drain stays blocked and I keep getting wet feet. I keep forgetting to do my civic duty until one of those amazing summer storms happens and the heavens open. I get soaked – starting at the ankles and yes, you’ve guessed it – phone the council and they said they would send someone out. This time they tell me there’s no record of my earlier call and they give me a job reference number and I wait. 12 long months pass and by now, the drain is no longer blocked – now it is positively overflowing with leaves and other junk. The only upside is that if you dropped your keys over it they wouldn’t even get through the slots (I can always find a silver lining in anything!). I (wait for it) phone the council and they said they would send someone out. They give me another reference number and a few days later a man turns up and paints a yellow mark on the pavement next to where the drain is. 12 more long months pass and I phone the council again – I quote my earlier references and point out to them that is the blocked drain’s birthday (or at least the anniversary of my call). They (unbelievably) said they would send someone out and at that point I decide to give up all hope ….
A week ago as I (yet again) splashed my foot down into the middle of the river, decided that in August, since the blockage would be 5 years old, I would make it a birthday card and a cake and call the local paper instead of the council. I told no-one of my plans but today (as if by magic) the council men have turned up. So far they have been here 3 hours and have just started working with a pneumatic drill…..now whatever happened to a stitch in time?
I’ll let you know if they give up and go away – I almost hope they do tho’ – I like birthday cake…..
*1 To put this in some context, you have to realise we have lived here for nearly 6 years.
I know that it seems a long time since Christmas, but now it has come and gone and the turkey has been eaten and no-one died from food poisoning I thought you might like to know the sad tale of our turkey – the one that nearly got away…
A week or so before Christmas we went out and bought a whole load of shopping, including a large frozen turkey – so large in fact that it would not fit in a store carrier bag (this is significant and you will see why later). It was a horrible evening, cold, dark and wet and we were late setting out so even later getting back. Just to add insult to injury, when we got back to the house, someone had nicked the space outside the front door and so we had to park on the other side of the street. As usual, hubby sent me inside as I am not much cop at carrying bags of groceries whilst managing my two sticks. Sooner or later I am going to investigate a head basket like all those pictures of African women, but maybe not just yet….
Anyway, hubby starts ferrying in the bags. He is carrying too much all at once because he wants to get out of the cold and wet and decides to make his last trip a real lazy man’s load. He takes several bags out of the boot of the car and holds them in his left hand and is then left with just the turkey which he lifts out with his right. He then (not having a spare hand to shut the boot with) decides to rest the turkey on the car bumper leaning against his knee, so that he has a free hand to shut the boot. So far, so good, but, in the way of Murphy’s Law everywhere, the turkey (being roughly rugby ball shaped) starts to roll to one side and is dislodged by the force of the boot coming down. It hits the ground and (again, being ball shaped) rolls under the car. At this point I should mention that we live on a (steep) hill and the car was facing downhill. Hubby abandoned the turkey (briefly) and got the rest of the bags into the house. Once back out at the car (in the wind and the cold and the rain) he finds that he cannot reach the turkey from the back of the car so has the brilliant idea of driving the car down the hill and then picking up (now exposed) turkey. Of course, the turkey (being ball shaped as I have said) just rolls down the hill after him and stays well hidden under the car. “Aha” thinks hubby, I shall reverse up the hill and the turkey will appear at the front of the car (at this point I have visions of cheese rolling competitions and fear that the turkey will roll down the hill to the next car along, but I say nothing) – so he does just that. Sadly, somewhere under the car is a protrusion and the turkey gets caught under the chassis and is dragged up the hill with the car. I have to say that at this point, poor hubby is getting increasingly upset whilst I am starting to find the whole situation hysterical. I do however try to stay serious for the sake of my marriage….
So, what did we do in the end? Well, hubby discovered that although the wife’s not much good at carrying the shopping due to the walking sticks, the sticks themselves make ideal turkey grabbers. He reached under the car and fished out the offending beastie – handing it to me for examination. Well, what can I say, we were lucky – it turns out that the particular turkey we had bought had a double plastic layer over it and although the outer one was shredded, the inner one was just about intact. In fact, whilst frozen there looked to be no damage to the bird itself although once defrosted, it did have a bit of a skinned knee…..well, wouldn’t be right for any bird of mine not to have a battle scar or two, would it?
Well, as I sit here typing this, the last 11 months since I had my surgery seem to have taken forever. On the flip side, those long months where I agonised over getting it done, had it done and then struggled to put my socks on or to make a cup of coffee seem like a distant memory. In fact, all the hard stuff, the physiotherapy and the post surgery pain (especially bumpy car rides) seem to have whizzed by in a flash!
I am now pretty OK and suspect that we will see little change from here. My back still hurts but there are major improvements in that since pre-surgery. I used to get muscle spasms so bad sometimes that just that act of breathing was agony – they have pretty much all gone*1 and what pain I have is much better controlled by my medication (Yay!). The nerve pain is just the same but that too is pretty well controlled by tablets so I can’t complain (or at least I try not too). My only complaint about painful episodes now is that they can come on very suddenly – I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine – I’m not fine! I’ll get used to it I guess – I can always try not to do too much (hahahahahaha!)
My ribs still get very tight and achey (that’s the missing ones) and I have a lot of numb stuff on my stomach but my surgeon thinks that is quite specific to my case. For the most part, the scar feels weird, but feeling is returning and it has healed up really, really well. I don’t think I will be showing it to too much hot sun but it not really even red any longer (that is assuming I don't do too much of this 
)
Maybe I’ll take a photo and shove it up for you to see sometime in the next week or so. The only other issue is the heartburn – it’s not gone but it’s greatly improved – had they been able to extend the rod as long as they wanted then I would have probably had a ‘cure’ there but it’s OK – it’s manageable and that’s what you want.
So, is there anything looking back that I wish I had known? I wish I had known in advance that the surgeons were telling the truth when they said recovery takes 6-12 months but also that it would pass pretty quick. I was quite well prepared for the whole process (although of course thought vaguely that it might not apply to me since I would be so determined to improve faster than anyone else) , but would like to have been reassured by someone who had actually gone through it.
It’s been a long process, but its not all been hard and the outcome is nothing short of miraculous. I still cannot believe the kind of future that I have been given……
*1She says, touching wood.
So today I had my 6 month check-up. At nearly 11 months post op, this seems a bit strange, but this is the NHS we’re talking about and they do seem to operate within a space time dimension all of their own. I’m wondering if they just watch way too much Torchwood or something….
Anyway, I got there and found a space in the car park just outside the clinic – this in itself is amazing as it is normally an impossibility and I had put my wheelchair in the car ready for the several mile trek from the main cark park. OK, so maybe saying that it is several miles is a teensy bit of an exaggeration (which I have been told off for at least a million times) but it is certainly a pretty long schlep and not one I wished to struggle with. Of course, having found the space, I didn’t have enough change for the car park (isn’t it sinful charging patients to park to see a doctor?) so went inside to ask reception if they could change a tenner. As it happened, the petty cash lady wasn’t there and they had called out my name to go in before she got back. I have never seen the wheels of the NHS turn so fast, from arriving to leaving; including seeing the consultant only took 20 minutes!
So I saw the big man, the head honcho, and he told me he was very pleased with me. I got a bit of a telling off for doing too much too soon, but then he said he kind of expected it as he thought I was that kind of a person….well spotted that man! We had a bit of a chat about the nerve damage that I got during surgery and he told me that he expected most of the improvement to have taken place by now although things may still pick up a bit for anything up to 2 years. If it’s not better by the 2 year mark then I have to live with it. I actually told him that I thought some reduced sensation was a very small price to pay for the future that he’s given me….
He was very pleased that my coronal and sagittal balance has stayed good and has told me to watch out for one shoulder or the other dipping as that may indicate a shift in my top curve. However, even if it does get worse, since it doesn’t have the same life threatening/changing impact of the bottom curve, the decision to get it fixed (or not) will largely be left to me. I finally got the last of my restrictions lifted, so I can now go down the gym, lift weights, do deep core work and sit on my gym ball. All in all, it was very good news and I don’t have to go back for another 12 months!
Check back in on Monday when I will tell you what life is like when you get to that special 11 month stage….
I’m sure I’ve told you about my cats before – I know I have certainly mentioned Bugalugs*1and I thought you might like to know what kind of Christmas they’ve had. My cats are twins, well litter mates actually, found dumped on a bit of waste ground while less than 3 weeks old – only one of their other brothers and sisters survived the dumping so they had a pretty sad start in life. Of course we spoil them rotten, which is what often happens to pets when their owners are unable to have kids…
Apart from the fact of being siblings, they do actually look pretty alike, a tabby and a Torby (tabby tortoiseshell cross) and people often get them confused - although you really only have to look at the way they traverse a mantelpiece full of ornaments to tell them apart. The little boy is just hopeless when it comes to balancing, falls off shelves that are 9” wide and then never falls on his feet – he is now perfecting the art of falling on his bum and then sticking one foot in the air before washing it, staring at you as if to say “See, I meant to do that really…”! His sister is the opposite, can balance on a washing line (I assume this as I have never actually seen her do it) and jumps up onto high cupboards with the lightest of feet. I often wonder if we should have called them Clumsy and Grace, but we didn’t, so I am going to do so in my blog.
Anyway, Grace has each year since we had her, decided that the Christmas tree is nothing more than a new and exciting climbing frame – she can get in right close to the trunk and get all the way up the inside, only disturbing those baubles that look the shiniest and seem the most enticing to flick out the tree with a well placed paw, ready to pounce on later (if it is not beneath her to do such a thing as actually play on the floor!). Clumsy on the other hand, just cannot really get into the tree at all, he stretches up as far as he can grabs hold of a branch or two, struggles and knocks 6 baubles, 2 angels and a bell onto the floor and then looks accusingly at his sister when you tell him off! It’s much the same when they come to greet you – Grace stands on her hind legs asking for a tickle behind the ears, Clumsy rears up, starts to totter and then grabs hold of your leg with his claws. Now, I don’t mind this a bit, as remember that I have that block of wood thigh – other people don’t tho’…
Anyway, they have had a good Christmas, a couple of new mice to play with (not real ones) and a surfeit of catnip drops. 
In fact all has gone really well for them until New Year’s Day when hubby and I were doing a spot of putting stuff away in the bedroom. Clumsy (nosy little b*gger that he is) decided to stick his head in a plastic bag – through the handle. It was a very stiff, crinkly and noisy plastic bag and the handle got firmly stuck behind his ears in much the same way that small children’s heads go through park railings…. He panicked big time, ran under the bed and out the other side, then under the bed and out the other side again. He dashed out the door before we could grab him, but just as fast was back in again and then it was back to under the bed and out the other side. He made another dash for the door, slipped past hubby and was halfway down the stairs before the monster that the carrier bag had turned into, exploded into several bits. It was then that he vanished and then his sister vanished – terrified by all the commotion. Some time later we found her under the futon with a real bog brush*2 tail and tracked him down to under the recliner in the lounge. How he got under there I have no idea as the gap can’t be 4” and he most definitely is not, but there he was and didn’t come out for hours and even when he did, it was very suspiciously – just in case the monster was still out there….I think I shall have to be very careful with bags for a while less I traumatise him further....
*1 Name changed to protect the innocent.
*2 Toilet brush
