My poor MIL...

So, the poor ole MIL is back home. It turns out that her GP had recently changed her medication (in fact, just 4 days ago!) and her system needs to get used to it before they can operate - so they sent her home. I suppose keeping her nil by mouth for the next three weeks until they could take her to theatre would be a bit drastic after all, however much she fancies losing a few pounds! Anyway, she was up on the ward getting her blood pressure taken and stuff while the FIL^*1 and I had coffee downstairs. Less than an hour later, when we went back up to the ward to say goodbye and wish her luck, she was all packed up and ready to go home. So, we get a reprieve for 3 weeks and she has 3 more weeks to get stressed out again. At least I now know where the hospital is and have found the car park so I guess we just take it as a ‘dry run’.

Ah well, gives me a bit more time to find heart warming stories of how well other people have done and how they are riding bikes and climbing mountains. In fact, T (of A&T fame, remember them?) took up fencing after he had both of his hips done so maybe she’ll get a new hobby or two with inspiration like that….

^*1 I’m sure you can work this one out for yourselves.

Nothing much happens...

So, I woke up ^*1 to find that Bugalugs^*2 had one foot in my ear, another braced against my chin and was drooling down my neck. It was an interesting start to a day….

Today is the day that the MIL^*3 goes in for her hip replacement. She is still highly suspicious of anyone who tells her that she will be out of hospital in less than a week and that it is a routine procedure as she bases her hospital experience on an extended hospital stay (for something which would now be routine) which took place over 50 years ago. Even my recent operation has not convinced her (“Ah, but you’re much younger than me” ^*4) and so I hope that she will be pleasantly surprised by the whole experience – and as delighted with her results as I am with mine.

All this leads to the fact that when hubby woke up (he did not have any feet in his ear as far as I know) he looked out the window and it was raining. Now I know this makes no sense, just ‘cos the MIL is going in for surgery does not logically mean it will rain (not does the lack of feet in the ear), but that’s the facts, he woke up (no feet), looked out the window and it was raining. In fact, it was more than raining, it was p*ssing it down and he just didn’t fancy walking the mile to the railway station. “Why not?”, I asked “Character building” I said (no I didn’t, I’m just making that up) – what I said was – “you’ll have to take my car, I need yours today to get your mother to the hospital. She’ll never manage to get into a 2+2 sports coupe before she’s had her hip done^*5” – so he did….

A while later the phone rings:
Me: Hello, yes?
Hubby: I just thought you’d like to know I got to the station safely in your little car and didn’t scrape it round any of the corners in the multi storey car park. I even managed to find all the switches. There was one small problem though.
Me: Eeekk, is the car OK? (Please note wifely concern for hubby)
Hubby: Yes, fine, it’s just I kind of fell into it – it’s a long way down into it isn’t it?
Me: No (indignantly) – it’s just it’s a long way up into any other kind of car

A stunned silence follows…..

^*1 I feel that it is good to do this, at least once per day.
^*2 Just in case you need reminding, Bugalugs is not hubby, but is one of my cats.
^*3Mother in Law
^*4 Conveniently overlooking the fact that I think a hip op would be a walk in the park (no pun intended) by comparison.
^*5 Actually I’m sure she could get in, but she’d never make it out and as much as I like my MIL, I don’t want a permanent passenger.

Silence…not golden at all!

So, after owning my new little car for a few weeks now I have decided to do something about the stereo. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m sure it was a very modern stereo when the car was new, but at 23 years old it is starting to look a little dated. Aha, I can hear you thinking, but isn’t my 23 year old car a bit dated too? Well, yes you have a point, but that’s a classic whereas the stereo was never destined to be a classic whatever you did to it. The best thing that you can say for it is that it is at least stereo, but when you can only save 2 UHF (not VHF note) channels and the dial only goes up to 104 (and my favourite station is on 105 – 106), well, it’s not really that great. The real clincher is the fact that you can only listen to whatever broadcasts with the strongest signals – it means that my choice of channels is well, interesting. At least I’ve listened to stuff I never would normally and that’s a good thing, Right? Broadening my horizons and all that?

Wrong – I need a new stereo!

All this in mind, I picked a very nice unit – plays CD’s and will talk to my MP3 player (which has about 16Gb of music on it at the moment so should keep me going on the way to the supermarket and back). I paid for fitting too (it was on special offer and I thought it would be easy) – but the waiting list was 3 weeks. Never mind, I said bravely, I can listen to Radio Crapola for that long; heck, I may even be able to find a cassette or two hidden under the bed with all the dust bunnies or something…So that was that, they ordered the ‘special fascia’ needed for my car and the ‘special bit of wiring’ (very technical they were in the ordering department) and I drove around for 3 weeks until my appointment time duly arrived.

That was yesterday, so at the appointed hour I turned up to find they had no record of me. How they forgot a 23 year old car with a short lady owner with 2 very funky walking sticks is beyond me but apparently I’m just not that memorable! Anyway, they said they’d fit it in but could I come back in 3 hours instead of 1 to collect it. Hey, I’m an easy going sort of gal so that’s what I did and off I went (to the gym and then shopping if you must know!). After 3 hours I return to find the old stereo still in the car – they couldn’t get it out – just didn’t know how as it’s an ‘older type fitting’. No, really? You could’ve fooled me – a 23 year old car having an older type fitting? Surely not!

So, I have to take it back again next week when they have a different expert in. He apparently knows lots about such things so it should be interesting to see what he does. As long as there are no breakages and he doesn’t use any kind of brute force on my car I may warm to him yet. Mind, I should have known I was in trouble with the first guy when he told me that he was only 2 years old when the car was first registered and …“ Er we don't see many of 'em in here”. Oh, no sh*t sherlock!

Just to add to this tale of woe, when I got home I looked at the ‘specially ordered fascia’. It’s almost as big as my whole dashboard and there’s no way it will fit in my car (unless you were to take a hammer to it, smash it to bits and stuff it in the glovebox) – on the box it lists all the models it will fit and none of them is mine – heck, not even close – not even the same model, let alone the same age! I feel more than a wave of sarcasm coming on here…. I think my next visit will involve a trip to the manager’s office, a refund and a very big fat apology….

Ah well, I hope to be rockin' on, just like the rest of you, soon.....

On dogs and their humans….

Today I was walking in the park (yes I am still doing this) and I got further than I’ve ever got before (yay for me!). I managed to make it all the way to the new bench on the big bend and by the time I’d got there I just had to sit down. I didn’t see the malevolent bench that lurks in the trees (see entry) so I have no idea if it was off terrorising the bowling green or maybe just behind me waiting to leap. Whichever, I didn’t sit for too long, just in case, and started out for home as soon as I could.

On the way back I passed a little fluffy haired old lady and her little fluffy haired dog. I’ve passed her before and we've never spoken, but today she said “you’re doing well today – aren’t you?” which I took as a real compliment – total strangers noticing my progress – amazing! Anyway, I fell to wondering (as I do), whether I have been a topic of conversation for the dog walkers in the park, who often seem to hunt in packs of two or three (that’s the walkers, not the dogs). We have a good selection of dogs and their walkers and it’s just like they say, lots of them look very like their owners. I actually have this theory with dogs and cats, that they actually own us, not the other way around – I mean, they are cared for, provided for, fussed and walked and all we are is servants. Worse than that, with dogs is that their humans then seem to copy their hairstyles too (or maybe they just choose a dog to fit their hair??). Anyway, we have a nice selection. There’s the lady with the curly black hair who has a big black poodle, the little fluffy haired lady with her fluffy haired dog, the dog with the bald patches who’s man has a bald head and the girl with the lovely sleek haircut who has a Doberman. We have one lady who has 4 dogs and I think she looks a bit like all of them depending on the light, but never like to admit I’m thinking it in case people think I’m rude!

Anyway, there’s lots of evidence to support my theory – you only have to look at:

http://www.naute.com/pictures/doglooks.phtml

and this article from the New Scientist:

http://www.newscientist.com/article.ns?id=dn4837

and this one from Science agogo

http://www.scienceagogo.com/news/20040301230043data_trunc_sys.shtml

and for the really dedicated among you – lots of pictures of people and their dogs..

http://www.doyoulooklikeyourdog.com/dog_info.html

So, there you go – enough wondering for today I think – I’ll just go off and see if I can add something more to the ironing pile …

I am a bad blogger...

OK, OK, I admit it. I am a very naughty blogger who hasn’t written about anything for ages (well its about a week actually but who’s counting?). I have excuses (heck, I always have excuses, that’s why my ironing pile is crawling out the basket and is halfway up the stairs) – but this time I do have a proper reason for not writing anything. You see, hubby has had a week off and I thought he might be a bit peeved if I told him to entertain himself whilst I got on with communicating with the world! I’ve also been away again – nowhere exotic this time, but it all eats into my writing time.

I guess I should explain all this travelling a bit better, as I think I’m getting one huge jealous readership here and you all think I’ve got pots of money and time on my hands. You probably think that I’m some kind of hard hearted b*tch who goes off on holiday at the drop of a hat and that I don’t take hubby with me as I want him to not only pay for it until he looks like this , but also to cat sit while I’m not around. You probably think that I’m off sunning myself on some foreign beach with one hunky male rubbing in my sun tan lotion whilst getting a foot massage from another and slugging down Pimm’s fruit cup. You may even think that after my romantic evening meal has ended with my ‘man in every port’, I’m there sipping midnight margaritas (with the laundry fairy^*1 maybe?). (Pinches self) - Oops, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tell you all my secret dreams….

Nope, seriously, it’s just not as exciting as all that and I finally decided that you might like some kind of explanation of why I am off all the time, zotting around the world. I think I already mentioned to you that I’m involved in fairly high level sport – well, it’s because of this that I have to do trips, either for competitions or for training. My recent trip to China was a training trip and I hardly saw anything at all which was a real shame. I was there 10 days and in all that time we only had one free afternoon for sightseeing. You have to believe me when I say you can’t do much sightseeing in one afternoon, especially in the kind of gridlocked city where 3 marked road lanes are occupied by 5 rows of cars!! I have never seen anything like it in my life - mere inches between them, cars and lorries wing mirror to wing mirror and bicycles weaving in and out of every gap (I think the riders all have to breathe in to do this) and totally ignoring every stop sign or red light. Anyway, I have digressed – that’s the reason for the travelling – but you don’t have to worry, my sport’s a summer one, so you’ll have to put up with me constantly over the winter!

^*1 You’ll have to see a much earlier entry for this.

Yet more travel and excitement …..

So, last weekend was time for more travelling but this time it included hubby (yay!) - we went off for a short break to Bruges with PTV and his lovely wife and had a really fab time.

Bruges is a really nice place – if you’ve never been, you must – it’s full of fabulous old buildings and canals, has amazing churches and architecture and lots of chocolate shops ^*1 and bars with 1001 varieties of Belgian beer - Mmmmmm... Kriek and oh yes – lots of cobbles…

Now, before I went, I read something that said that Bruges was great for wheelchair users so I took mine. Well, yes it’s great in that it’s flat but it’s really important that you don’t have any fillings in your teeth if you’re going to use one because guaranteed that 2 days of judderrrinnggg around on cobbles and you’ll lose any that aren’t really firmly cemented in. Still, I got a lot further than I could have on foot so it was worth every bump and shimmy. I’m still wondering how much of my bone graft has now shaken down to my bottom tho’…

After too short a time we had to come back to dear old Blighty to pick up our car and come home. We loaded up the boot with all our chocolate purchases, started up and reversed out of our parking space whilst waving goodbye to PTV (and his lovely wife). Suddenly their waves turned frantic – our car (the big and boring one I gave to hubby) was leaking its life blood all over the road (that’s oil to all you mechanically minded people out there…). That was it, no oil, no go so we had to call a recovery lorry out to get us the 200 miles home. “No problem”, the guy said “I should have you home by 11pm”. Well, he might have but for a few small details. He was very sleepy for one and was doing his best to stay awake by alternately shrugging and wriggling his shoulders and scratching his crotch and from behind it appeared that he had some strange version of St Vitus dance . Each time he almost dropped off to sleep he then strayed over the rumble strips ^*2 on the side of the motorway, alternately slowing down and speeding up when he woke again. Hubby slept (fitfully) through most of this whilst I struggled to keep the recovery lorry on the road by sheer force of will alone. At one point I decided to make conversation to keep the driver awake (no all you doubters I didn’t do this just because I like to talk too much…). I asked him if he was married and he told me that he had a fiancé who did the same job as him – in fact he had even trained her to be a recovery driver and she worked for the same company as him. I wondered if he’d trained her to stay awake by shrugging and wriggling her shoulders etc, but didn’t like to ask that….

Anyway, the car is now at the garage and we are waiting for big Bill (he’s not the guy who fixes the car, he’s the credit card destroyer) – I’ll keep you informed…

^*1 I make no apology at all for including this link and accept no responsibility for any weight you might gain….
^*2 And I thought I was through with cobbles for the weekend when we left Brugges

The Nuts and bolts of my surgery (literally!)

I will admit to seeing this idea on another blog and so have ‘stolen’ it. Well, it’s not really stealing, as the details are mine not hers, but it was her idea. Why I am being so noble and giving her the credit? I have no idea – I guess I must just have my nice head on today…Anyway – to details:

1. I had an anterior Spinal Fusion of T-9 to L-5. It was supposed to be T3 to L5 but my surgeon got bored and went home so didn’t get any further ^*1
2. It took 6 1/2 hours of theatre time.
3. I now have one thick rod, lots of screws and a metal ‘cage’, which is nothing more than a big wedge shaped lump of metal^*2 inserted between two of my vertebrae (L4/5).
4. I got six units of blood in theatre and ICU and another 2 units a few days later when my blood count dropped so much that my lips turned white.
5. Being given Tramadol was the worst part of the whole experience, as I had a bad reaction to it.
6. Not going to the toilet for 10 days came a very close second!
7. This was closely followed by not being able to get back into bed as my feet didn’t touch the floor (and that was with the bed on its lowest setting!).
8. I did not get out of bed for 5 days because I had a chest drain in all that time.
9. Having my chest drain out was horrible but only because they stitched it in too tight – it became infected later for the same reason – I think the apprentice did it!
10. I was hospitalized for nearly 3 weeks – I was the ‘old lady’ of the ward.
11. When I came home I had a walking frame – just like an old lady.
12. The first few days after surgery I loved my PCA pump and the morphine it gave me. It didn’t make me hallucinate which was a shame – I would have liked to have seen some weird sh*t.
13. The pain was never too bad as long as I took lots of pain pills and didn’t try to move too fast – I don’t include the time I was on tramadol when the pain was vile.
14. When I got home I was not allowed a shower for 3 weeks because of my chest drain infection.
15. I was not allowed to bend, twist, stretch, or lift anything at all or do any kind of resistance exercises for 4 months until I got the all clear. (Not that I felt like it for most of the time anyway). I did not have to wear a brace during this time.
16. I had 2 ribs removed along with the discs in my lumbar spine. My ribs were ground up and put into the spaces where my discs used to be, in the hopes that it will get hard and fuse everything all together. My surgeon says you can’t really tell if its worked unless he opens me up again just to have a look ^*3
17. I ‘grew’ 2” in height. I actually shrank when they took my discs out and then they stretched me out again on my very own internal rack.
18. My scar runs from near my belly button round to my shoulder blade in a big spiral. It is awesome and I love it as it represents what I have been through and what my future holds (i.e. all that good stuff…).
19. My curvature used to be 75 degree lumbar curve with a 62 degree thoracic curve. Those angles are now down to 33 and 30 – amazing!
20. I have had to buy a whole new wardrobe as I am a very different shape now (YAY for both the new clothes and the new shape!)
21. Would I do it again? Oh yes, yes yes yes !!!
    

^*1This is plainly not true. He actually stopped where he did as he wanted the best correction whilst still preserving as many flexible levels as he could. Quite apart from this, he told me he stopped because it was “too dangerous to continue” – I have no idea what this means and was afraid to ask…
^*2Apparently it is 1½ inches high – that is a lot when you consider it’s between two vertebrae. It may actually account for a lot of my gained height too!
^*3I don’t think I fancy this!

7 months post op – 7 months, 7 months, gosh, is it really??!!

There are days when I wake up and think that it seems like years since I had the operation and then other times when it seems like yesterday. Of course, that’s not really true ‘cos when it really was yesterday, I was all wired up to stuff that went bleep and had tubes and wires in (almost) every orifice plus a few more that they had created especially for the purpose! Anyway, all I really mean is that there are days when I feel great and other days when I realise that I have actually had major spinal surgery. Originally I was told to expect recovery in 6-12 months and now I see what they mean – not that you don’t feel pretty good pretty early on (especially given what you’ve been though), but I know that I am still very aware of my scar and my body is still reminding me that it’s been sliced open and stitched up^*1.

Anyway, I’m going for the truthful update today and will tell the bad stuff first (not that anything is that bad but I want Ly to know what’s coming!). Here we go: My phantom ribs still get sore from time to time and often feel tight but they are definitely better than they were. At the moment they are an inconvenience, and if I didn’t do so much I’m sure they would be fine. I admit it, I am a bad girl, but hey, life is for living right? What else? Umm, well, when I get tired then my numb leg doesn’t want to work too well but then I always used to get days when my legs didn’t want to go out and play so I think I’m still just adjusting to the new feel of it. Oh, did I say feel? I meant lack of feel of course! Speaking of lack of feel, the area around my scar is still numb but does it matter? Nah! Not really!

The only other weird thing is that I often wake up^*2 and one of my arms has gone to sleep. Now I know that you’re all going to tell me that I shouldn’t lie on it, but it’s the one on top that does it. I often sleep on my right side (can’t sleep on my left, ribs complain) and my left hand goes to sleep. Go figure! I have no idea what causes it but it is only since the op. When I wake I just have to flex my hand a bit and it all comes back to life. So, strange but true…

Apart from that, it’s all great. I am doing everything I should do and lots of stuff I shouldn’t. My back still hurts, (although most of my scoliosis related pain has gone) but it probably wouldn’t be too bad if it wasn’t for me doing the stuff I shouldn’t! I mean, who on earth would travel to the Czech Republic and after less than a week at home head off for China – only a mad woman right? ^*3

Other things to update on are the nerve pain and the stomach reflux. Well Ly, my stomach problems have all but gone – yippee! At present I have mild and occasional attacks getting less and less frequent with time. (Just hang in there girl!). The nerve pain has improved enough to try me on a reduced dose – so that’s still a case of watch this space.

Anyway, to finish off with the update, I have to say that I feel fit. I mean really fit, you know, like well, a fit person. I feel healthy and well. I put much of this down to my breathing which has improved vastly since the op. Funnily enough, it went downhill so gradually that I hadn’t realised how much of an impact having one of my lungs all squashed had on me. But now I do….Anyway (I do like that word), next back update will be early October. Eight months, oh my ears and whiskers….

^*1 I am very glad to report this second fact as otherwise life could have got very messy.
^*2 I am glad of this too.
^*2 Er, um, that would be me then?.

New links

Just thought I'd mention some new links...

I fnally got round to adding Brandi's blog to the links of scoliosis bloggers. She has a very funky new site...

Well, talk about eclectic (were we doing that or was I just imagining it?) - I came across something whilst genuinely looking for a knitting pattern. Its Stitchy McYarnpants amazing Museum of Kitschy Stitches (A Gallery of Notorious Knits). You just have to visit this site for its serious reflections on knitting pattern photos of the past. Oh, did I say serious? That's not truthful at all....it's more like this really...

I’m back, I’m back (as a matter of fact…..)*

Well, I am back from my Turkish bath of a trip. Actually, where I went was nowhere near Turkey, although it may have been one of the more normal things that I ate during my visit. At a meal out organised by our hosts, goose feet^*1 were served on the menu, as was crocodile stew and snake and scorpion soup. There were many other things too, many of which were untranslatable and that may have been just as well! Still a good time was had by all (I think) and that even included when the BMB was forced to get up and sing. J, don’t worry, even when he did his Tom Jones impression no-one threw knickers!

Anyway to those of you who are interested in what it is like travelling for nearly 24 hours when you had major spinal surgery just a few months ago I can honestly say, hand on heart, that I really don’t recommend it! I was very disappointed too that my metal work did not, on its own, set off the metal detectors. When you’re travelling through the airport in a wheelchair, those arch thingies are pretty much bound to start bleeping – I’d be more worried if they didn’t! Anyway, my friend got one of those hand held things waved over her and that was sensitive enough to pick up her bra strap. There I was going “Ooo. Ooo. Me next. Me next!!!” but they just let me go through. What a swizz eh? I guess I will have to try and persuade hubby to take me on lots of foreign holidays then maybe I’ll be able to report for sure…

So, here I am, back! I shall now be updating the blog on a halfway regular basis again – I’m now at 7 months too, so I shall be doing an update on that in the next few days. It does assume that I can get to the keyboard tho’ since it seems to be the latest residence of the cat. This is the same cat that when I came home, stuck his nose in the air and stalked out of the room very pointedly, only to rush back in after about 30 seconds and launch himself at me. I don’t think he’s learnt yet that 30 seconds doesn’t quite class as sulking…

^*Please don’t try and guess where this is from. I’m almost ashamed to admit I know it myself!
^*1I now know that under the skin of a goose foot is nothing but bone - I never did quite discover which bit we were supposed to be eating.

You can’t keep a good girl down (or at home anyway)

In an effort to make as many of my friends jealous as possible I am going away again. This time, after having taking 10 days to escape the nightmare that is now Heathrow airport, I am heading off for another expedition. I am going to scale the mountain of unattended baggage, encounter the hairy hands of the body searcher and try and decipher the lost rules of what to take for hand luggage (if indeed anything). It may take some time and I am instructing hubby to send out search parties if there is no sight of me by the 7th of September (ready to report on my 7 month update on my back!).

Given my brief visit to home, I have lulled the cats into a false sense of security ^*1 and checked that hubby still has food in the freezer and enough petrol in the car to get to the supermarket. I have also washed everything that I took away with me last week since I need it again next week^*2. I have caught up on my (eeeek, how many??) messages in my in-box, taxed and insured the car and even tried to catch up on my sleep. In the midst of it all, I even remembered my (faithful) readership and updated my blog. So, bear with me, I’ll be back….

^*1 Hooray, mummy’s home, we can get fussed during the day….
oh, miaouw!, she’s gone again…

^*2 Now there’s something I don’t understand.

1. You go away
2. Everything fits in your suitcase
3. You wear your clothes and they get (slightly) dirty
4. On the way home, your suitcase will not shut.

What is that about? I mean, just how big is dirt, when it is attached to clothes?

One final thing, I just checked the weather forecast for where I am going (umm that’ll be Heathrow won’t it?). It’s due to be 35ºC in the day (nice and warm) and 27ºC in the night (gasp!) and (wait for it) – a whopping 90% humidity at all times. Given the sporting activities that I’m supposed to be doing, I think I’m about to find out what it’ll be like to do them in a warm bath…..

Was he or wasn’t he?

Some time ago, hubby went out and when he came home he was a bit on the merry side having had a good evening with his mates at several pubs…need I say more. In he comes ^*1 discarding clothing and tripping over the coffee table. ^*2

Me: (Tapping rolling pin against leg^*3) “You’re drunk!”
Hubby: “No I’m not although I will admit to not being sober.”

If anyone can tell me the difference, please put the answer on the back of a postage stamp and send it to me. Ta!<sup>*4


*1</sup> Lurches? Staggers? – You decide…
^*2 Actually he didn’t do this – I just thought he was going to at one point so have put it in for comic effect. Now please imagine he did and go back to where you were reading last.
^*3 Of course, anyone who knows me will know that I’m not a great lover of using the rolling pin – not when I have to go out to the kitchen to fetch it anyway…Seriously, I was glad hubby had a good evening out – he works too hard earning enough money to keep me in the manner to which I would like to become accustomed and has had a pretty rough time of it over the past few months what with all the looking after me and the worry of me and the running around driving me everywhere (hey this is all me, me, me and I was supposed to be praising hubby!). Of course, I can’t be too mad at hubby for getting tipsy as I expect him to be just as laid back when I am finally allowed to drink copious quantities of alcohol and do my own staggering. OK OK, I know I stagger around enough without the booze but hey, stop being critical…
^*4 I am hoping that this is a good way of getting free postage stamps as I think without the postcard they will be too small to go through the franking machine at the Post Office.

I just realised that this post is more footnote than post. I blame PTV myself for introducing me to the perils of HTML.

The bench in our park.

Some time ago, my physio set me up with a walking programme. She said it would trim my (ever expanding) waistline and hopefully get my little legs toddling a bit better.

“Off you go” she said, “today the first lamppost and tomorrow the world!” Of course she didn’t actually say this, what she really said was –“this week try and walk to the first lamppost and next week try and get to the second one.” Well, I’m not one to do things by halves and decided that since we live opposite a park I could do ‘today 1st tree’ and then by the next day I’d be walking to the other side of the park. This of course is a blatant lie – the first time I tried I only got as far as crossing the road and I am still nowhere near getting to the other side of the park. I get as far as the building that the council are renovating (coming on very nicely now) and to two trees just a little bit further on. I have ‘stuck’ at this for a few weeks and for the moment seemed to have reached my limit.

Well, where was I – oh yes, the title of the post was about the bench. One day I was getting to my ‘just a bit further’ two trees and I looked up (I normally watch my feet when I walk, it seems to make them work better) and I saw a bench. I’m sure I saw it, in fact, I know I did. It was on the big bend, just out of my reach and I thought tomorrow, I will try and get to it (and then I thought, I can sit down, groaning with pleasure at taking the weight off). So, the next day, I rushed ( don’t laugh, it’s not nice to mock the afflicted), to the two trees and looked up. The bench was gone – I couldn’t see it anywhere and so I blamed the whole thing on a surfeit of drugs (or indeed the opposite) and tried to forget the whole thing.

That evening, hubby, who walks to the station through the park said, “I see they’re preparing the ground for a bench on the big bend”. “That’s right” I said, “I saw the bench yesterday”. Hubby said nothing, just looked at me very oddly (as he often does in fact) and I put the whole thing down to a deja vue moment (or indeed some kind of interesting hallucination) and that (as they say ) was that.

The next day I walked to the two trees again – looked up and saw the bench – but this time, it was not on the side of the path, but nestled up in the trees. It looked very menacing. I don’t know how it got there, or how it moved by itself^*1 but I found myself mentally calling it Christine and despite my tired little legs, I didn’t want to sit on it at all….

I shall see where it is when I go to the park tomorrow, but if you don’t hear from me, call Stephen King, he has a lot of experience of this kind of thing…

^*1 Logic tells me that due to a shift in light or some-such, the bench has always been in the trees but not always visible due to minute changes in angle and seeing it through the bushes etc. It never was on the bend, it was just an optical illusion etc etc – even so, I am glad they shut the park gates at night. It may be able to move around but I doubt it can climb over the railings….

I'm going away...

I shall be away for a little while doing exciting things with my life. Having discovered that supermarket trolleys are interesting to cope with I thought I’d try out some airport ones just for a comparison test^*1 and will report back when I escape the maze of Heathrow airport. I anticipate that this will be in approximately 10 days time. In the meantime, hubby will be cat sitting and earning enough money so that I can gad about around the world at much expense^*2. If you want details of my trip, hubby will have a URL for those of you who ask….for everyone else – see you soon!

^*1This will have an added frisson since I am taking my wheelchair too!
^*2 although not strictly his!

Things you shouldn’t do at 5½ months post op

I just realised I haven’t made a list on my blog recently and so in order to preserve my sanity ^*1 here’s one. It’s a list of things you really shouldn’t do whilst recovering from spinal surgery – not that I’ve tried them or anything – oh no, everyone knows that I would never try to do too much or anything at all like that…

• Getting down on your hands and knees to wash the kitchen floor is not advisable. The floor can stay dirty or, if you are clever, you can flick cat food all over it and hopefully the cats will wash it for you.
• Trying to put on your sandal whist stood on one leg will result in you crashing to the floor. It makes a very loud noise when the floor is wooden and any cat in the vicinity is unlikely to come out from under the bed for some hours.
• Shopping for food for a party for 40 people with a supermarket trolley is interesting. Things to note:

• All supermarket trolleys have wonky wheels
• All supermarket car parks run downhill in the wrong direction
• Yanking a supermarket trolley is fun with no ribs (not!)
• Supermarket trolleys are too deep to reach the things in the bottom – even when you’ve been surgically stretched. Remember, you can’t bend either.

• Baskets full of wet laundry are hard to balance when you are walking with two sticks. They’re heavy too. I think maybe we need a new laundry fairy as ours is still sipping margaritas!
• Forget coughing, or sneezing. If you want to do either, umm, well, just don’t.
• Don’t tell your friends that it only hurts when you poke it here – if it hurts, don’t poke it!
• Driving very fast over dips in the road at speed will make you feel like your rod is

• a. Trying to escape through your throat…
• .....Closely followed by…
• b. trying to escape through your a**e
• This is not nice!

I'm sure there are many other things that could be added to this list, but I will stop here for now. I'm open to suggestions tho'....

^*1 and I know some of you think I’m nuts and just merely tolerate this part of my personality. BMB & K, you can stop laughing; BUF, thanks for being an addict too!

Last week...

I didn’t tell you, did I, that we went away last week? Well, we did, hubby, me and the cats took a short break away with friends, A&T^*1 in order to get some R& R after hubby’s party.

We piled into the car (hubby’s new big and boring one that I gave him ) with the cats ‘basketed’ on the back seat. It wasn’t too long before we were on to unfamiliar roads and ‘Bugalugs’^*2 started to chirrup, burble and miaow.
Me: “Can you see, why’s he making such a fuss? Is he OK?”
Hubby: (turning round to check and seeing said cat sat up in basket apparently unworried) “He’s fine – I suspect he’s trying to help me navigate by sonar!”

Well, navigating goes on for a while and finally hubby says those words that no driver likes to hear from their navigator^*3 – “I don’t know where we are...”
“OK”, says I, “We just came through Tincling, there’s a signpost to Rincling off to the left and Crincling off to the right (or something like that, all these weird local names confuse me) and there’s a yellow car ahead in the distance.” “Well, that yellow car pins it down,” says hubby, “we are currently 12 miles from our destination^*4 and by the time you catch up with the yellow car, we will be 8 miles away!”. D’you know, I have no idea how he does it, but with directions like these we still managed to find our cottage just fine. (Well we managed to find a country cottage and they gave us the key so I’m assuming it was the right one!)

So, there we were in an idyllic country setting in exactly the kind of place where (as hubby says) you might expect the boon to keep his docks. The cottage was several hundred years old (and with several hundred years worth of woodworm damage too) and was very ‘chocolate box’ even down to the ancient open hearth and range with bread oven. The lure of an open chimney was just too much for one of our cats who went up it to investigate and came down in a cloud of soot! I wouldn’t have minded, but then, finding the taste of soot far too distasteful to clean off her paws, tramped through the whole cottage marking every white surface including (horror of horrors) a white duvet cover. I just hope the cottage owner doesn’t read this blog – I was going to blame it on mice, or a visiting rabbit or something (or even A&T) ^*5

^*1 No they do not own two thirds of a major phone company, so its not worth asking them for a loan.
^*2 this is not hubby – this is hubby’s pet name for one of the cats.
^*3 there are people out there who should be really horrified at this….
^*4 I don’t call him Tom-tom either…
^*5 OJ guys – I have to pay you back for making me lose my cherry after all!

6 months ago today….

It seems hard to believe that 6 months ago I was sitting on a hospital bed waiting to go down to the operating theatre and less than 24 hours later (ahead of all expectations) I was out of intensive care and back in the same ward. OK it’s true, I was flat on my back and feeling rather groggy, but the operation was over and had been a great success.

So, here I am 6 months on and I feel pretty great. I’d be lying if I said that I am completely healed (so I won’t) and it’s true I’m still getting some pain from my rib removal site (but maybe wouldn’t do if I was a bit kinder to my body), but mostly I feel, well, great actually. Just recently I’ve been feeling fitter than I have for years too – my lung function had decreased so gradually I had no idea it wasn’t perfect, until they made a bit more space in me for my lungs to work properly. You wouldn’t believe how much fun breathing is these days!!

Of course I'm sure that there will be those people who tell you that since I now use 2 sticks to walk outside that things are worse, but my major lurching limp has gone so in fact I think my walking is much better – and anyway, my physio says 2 sticks or none, so it looks like I’ve been doing it all wrong for the last few years anyway. There will also be people who say that because I am now using my wheelchair more, this means that things are worse but in reality, I am just being more sensible! So – all you pessimists out there – don’t listen to yourselves, listen to me instead – things are so much better for me it isn’t true!

Other things that may interest all the twisted babes out there – my heartburn is hugely improved (I’d like to say gone as I have been heartburn free for a couple of weeks and am nearly off the tablets but I’d like a few months free before I count all the chickens^*1). I haven’t had problems swallowing for about 3 months so that’s brilliant too. Muscle spasms have nearly all gone and my worst pain is either from my rib removal site (which will heal in time) or from my lower back (where I have arthritis).

So, as updates go, in many ways there’s nothing to report except that life is good – and oh yes, am I happy I had it done? Well, I have an amazing (nearly) straight body and I am wearing clothes I would have felt uncomfortable in before. My pain levels have much decreased and my surgeon has given me the kind of future I feared I might never have.

You bet I’m glad I had it done!

^*1 Including those that have actually crossed the road

I have a new car

I have a nice new car. Actually, that statement doesn’t really say it at all as in fact the car is most definitely not new, it is actually very old, its just finally come to me (just like it was always meant to).

Now, you have to realise that I like cars. I mean I really like cars, really, really like them. I always liked cars, right from when I was little and (although I know its not a very girlie thing to do) I thought there was nothing better than getting out in the garage with my daddy and taking the car to pieces. Of course the being with my (fabulous) dad might have had something to do with it, but it left me with a love of the things. Long car journeys were filled with spotting different makes and models and I almost managed to completely fill my I-Spy car number plates. I can even remember most of the makes and models that my parents owned, let alone the ones that hubby and I have had.

When hubby and I got married, we couldn’t afford a second car and this went on for years. At one point we found ourselves with a 2+2 sports coupe which I had bought from a young lad up the road and as our only car, it was used for everything - even deliveries for hubby’s job. It just wasn’t big enough and finally we got a big car for hubby but I kept ‘my’ Deidre for some time until she fell to pieces with rust. Ever since, I have fancied another one or possibly an ‘upgrade’ to the ones they made a year later (which had a bigger engine among other things). You don’t see them very often, most of them have long since died, but there I was idly browsing through Ebay (classic auto*) and I saw one^*1 and it looked perfect (to me!).

Hubby came home that night and said “I’ve been thinking we might get a second car again” – which I took as fate! There was one slight problem, it was on the far edge of the country, right around where if you kept going, you’d have to stop driving and start sailing!
This is where PTV and his lovely wife came into my fiendish plan - I asked PTV to go and check it out for me as there is no-one whose opinion I value more when it comes to cars^*2 and he sent me a text which said simply “Buy it!” – so I did (well truthfully, he did, and then he checked it out some more, and then he got the tyres done and so on – so I owe him big time…!). Anyway, he and his lovely wife came down to ours for hubby’s birthday party and they drove it down for me. These are seriously good friends, aren’t they? Everyone please, big round of applause.

Anyway, since hubby’s birthday was one of those significant ones (the ones that end in a big fat O) - he complained that it was his birthday, but I got a car. I gave him my (big but boring) car in exchange, what more does he want??

^*1I do this whilst listening to canned musack on those hideous automated phone services. I sit there and look at the Cobras, Vipers and Ponies (for the uninitiated these are cars, not animals) and dream about empty roads and being able to reach the pedals.
^*2This is the absolute truth.

I feel like I'm at the Oscars ...

Hubby and I just threw a party to celebrate(?) his coming of age, or of becoming half the age of an antique or something like that…

It was great and loads of our really close friends came to visit – the first time I have seen many of them since my operation. I am so grateful for them all turning up but even more so to them all for washing up, clearing up and generally tidying up whilst I sat there perched on a stool. Apparently I was supposed to be ‘giving directions’^*1, but I know it was all done to help me out and I am really eternally grateful. Now in best Oscars tradition I would like to thank ummm, well everyone. There are a few ‘special’ people out there – the B.U.F. ^*2 for one and my (soon to be famous) author friend for another, but to single them out would be unfair, when I saw lots more than two pairs of dishpan hands. Anyway (she says wiping a tear from the corner of her eye ) thank you everyone – you not only made the party special by your presence, but made it easy on me too. Thank you!

^*1 And just how complicated is it to load a dishwasher that I need to give instructions?
^*2 I’ll tell you another time…

BTW, all that sitting around watching other people work, has made me very tired and I am off to sleep for a week so blogging is going to temporarily cease….

Good Luck Ly!!!

There's someone who I've never met, who lives 'across the pond' and spends her time baking what look to be the most fabulous cakes. She has hummingbirds in her garden (of which I am supremely jealous). She has two boys, is almost the same age as me and likes lighthouses and the sea. You see, I've never met her, but I feel I know her very well. She encouraged me before I went in for my surgery and since. Well, it's her turn now and I just wanted to wish her lots of good wishes. If you feel like offering your own luck or prayers, please do so as I want her to recover as well as me. One day maybe we'll even meet up and compare scars....

Good Luck Ly!!!!

Torture in a box?

I recently bought an epilator from a well known TV shopping channel. I did this because I get a money back guarantee and I figured that if it hurt like f**k (which I thought it probably would) I could send it back. Oh yes, and on the subject of sending it back – what do they do with used personal items like that? Best not to go there I think…

Anyway, I got it out of the box and it looked at me for a week or so while I built up courage to use it – after all, these things are pulling your hair out by the roots and this one is an ‘all over body’ model so not for use on just your legs. In fact, if it was for use on just your legs, I wouldn’t have bought it, as I have no hair on my legs. Yes, that’s right – no hair on my legs – never have had – something to do with my wonky wiring I guess. Actually it is no longer strictly true that I have no hair on my legs, as since the operation (and only since the operation), I have had a patch about the size of the palm of my hand, growing on my left shin. Weird huh? Anyway, you may be wondering why I would want such a device if I have no hair on my legs – well, it’s my pits you see – long and lustrous ain’t in it^*1 – I even have to take a razor on a weeks holiday with me (and use it twice). It’s a pain and so is epilating under your arms as I discovered today (I am sat here at my keyboard with my arms stuck out at right angles as far away from my body as possible typing this with my nose ^*2). The hair under my arms grows so fast, that that, coupled with my impossibly long arms and my constant desire to dye my hair red, makes me wonder just how closely I am related to an orang utan - especially based on this recent picture of me!

So, I bet you are all wondering just how it worked out and so I thought I’d give you all a little review. I started off with the patch of hair on my leg – hey I thought, this is great, doesn’t hurt at all…completely overlooking the fact that I can’t actually feel anything on that bit of skin anyway so it wasn’t really a fair test on which to base a ‘whole body decision’. Bravely I went from there to my underarms. That was ummm…different! You know that thing where you don’t want to touch something horrid (like rotting seaweed at the beach or stinging nettles found at the back of the flower bed) and you just kind of dab at it quickly – well, that’s what I did and boy does that bring tears to your eyes. What you have to do is pull the skin taut, grit your teeth and get in there. Once you’re going it’s not too bad – uncomfortable yes, but not as bad as getting a tattoo – and it gets easier the more you do (probably ‘cos there’s less hair to pull out). So there you go – I did the other side too and my bikini line (not too bad but like it says in the instructions trim it first girls and boys) and now I can’t wait to use my new torture device on other people ()

OK, final note – just in case I have made you all so excited at the prospect of using one of these things (you may actually like pain after all) – was it worth it? Well, so far, I’d say yes – I have impossibly smooth pits (like I’ve always dreamed of) and if it is true that you only have to do it every 6-8 weeks then it’s masochism for me all the way…

^*1 This is actuslly a bit of an exaggeration and I've been told a million times not to do that...
^*2 This of course is a lie. In fact, I have no residual soreness…I was just trying to be funny.

The suit of armour

I read somewhere on one of the forums I belong to about someone complaining about being stuck in a suit of armour. Well, maybe they didn’t say they were actually stuck; I think perhaps it was just something to describe how their body felt. Anyway, despite searching the archives, I haven’t been able to find the particular post again so I can remember what version of it I like, I guess.

The thread writer explained that it was something to do with a strange sensation around their ribcage that they had after having had their ribs removed for anterior surgery. The memory of the thread only stayed with me as it seemed some kind of odd comparison – I mean how many people actually get to wear suits of armour these days. I suppose its possible she belonged to some kind of medieval re-enacting society but surely as a ‘girlie’ she wouldn’t be trying on the armour (unless it was like this). Anyway, you can imagine that with a brain like mine (you must be getting an idea of how I am just a little bit odd by now) – the mental picture stayed with me of this poor woman trapped in her suit of armour.

Many moons have gone by since that post, but I find myself thinking about it a lot recently. In fact, I have good reason to, as the area around my ribcage is starting to feel quite odd. Now it may be all the bending and stretching I’m doing and all the lifting my arm up (darn sports again!) but it feels umm not unlike you would imagine a suit of armour if it were a bit tight. It’s something like a one sided corset – maybe something like half of this ^*1 . BTW, please don’t look at this picture if you are

• a) underage..... or
• b) have never learned about the birds and the bees and fetish wear.

The suit of armour description is sounding better all the time – I can’t go round telling people it feels like I have a tight rubber corset where my ribs used to be – they’d think I was mad^*2! It’s not a bit like telling them I feel like I’m wearing a suit of armour – I’m sure they’d think that was all quite normal after all…

^*1Torture v. thickening waist??–ummm, pass the chocolate please…
^*2…der. You don’t get it – read it and this again – quickly and in sequence thank you!

I went swimming!

Today I went swimming for the first time since my op. It was great! Now before I go on, I should explain what kind of a swimmer I am – you see swimming is not really something that I do, it’s more what I am really. I’m sure any attempt to explain it will sound just like mystical claptrap, but I was born to swim, you see. I go to the pool and I watch other people struggle up and down the lanes and its obviously hard work for them. Well, and I don’t wish to make all you puffing and panting types jealous, it’s not like that for me. I just get in the water and I swim – if don’t go in for months I can jump in and swim a mile. You see, I could swim before I could walk and swimming is just who I am! Mystical, maybe, claptrap, almost certainly, but there you go.

Well, enough of all that, back to where I was. Today I went swimming for the first time since my op nearly 6 months ago. I was given the all clear to do so about 3 weeks ago but life got in the way and I just didn’t get round to going to the pool. TBH, I was a bit scared – what if I could no longer do this wonderful thing that I’ve been able to do all my life? What if my metalwork stopped me from floating? What if my scar pulled too much to do front crawl? ^*1 So many questions….

Anyway, I got in the water and did 25 lengths. It was fine apart from a few things. This is what I learnt:

1. My legs no longer seem to work in the water. This is odd but not completely unexpected. When I was a kid they never did very much at all and then I learned to roll my hips to get them to work – since I no longer twist in the back I can no longer roll the hips. Ergo, legs don’t work. OK, odd, but at least you’re more streamlined!
2. Pushing off from the edge hurts my back. This is not really true – it’s only if you hit the wrong angle (which is most of them). By the end of my time in the pool I’d found a way round this.
3. Men in the Jacuzzi are very nice at rescuing your walking sticks when you drop them whilst trying to find your glasses. I don’t think this is because I was in a bathing suit and that they thought I was beautiful. More likely they were mesmerised by my wobbling thighs.
4. Despite not using my legs I did 25 lengths in 12 minutes. This would put my mile at 36 minutes. When I was young I could do a sub 30min mile without breathing heavily or even thinking about it and it has been my dream to get back to that. Just before my op I did it in 30 minutes and 50 seconds which I thought was pretty good (especially considering my advanced years!) – 36 minutes would be fine and dandy (as a start!)
5. Fat ladies who have just come out of aqua aerobics and who are taking the opportunity to stand in the centre of the pool and gossip, occupy an awful lot of space and get in your way.

Well that’s it really, I went, I swam and I showered, I came home. It was nice…

^*1 I don’t do breaststroke, it involves moving your legs in some completely stupid way – goodness knows what kind of an idiot invented it!!.

Please note there are no smilies in this post because I am trying to cut down...

A weekend of fun......

Well, how things have changed in the last few months for me…

Me and the BMB ^*1 were supposed to be going away together for a few days – yup ^*2, we were running away without hubby. Umm, just before you get any ideas, hubby knew and was happy about it and no, we do not have that kind of marriage…

Anyway, back to where I was. Me and the BMB were supposed to be going away last Wednesday and because of my delicate medical state (yeah, right!) the BMB was supposed to be driving. Tuesday he rang me:

Me “You packed, ‘n’ ready to go?”
BMB, “Um there’s a bit of a problem” ^*3
Me “You’re not backing out are you?”
BMB “Gawd no, it’s just that the brakes on the car are shagged and we have no transport”
Me “Ah, looks like I’m driving then – heck, I’ve been driving for 2 weeks now, I bet I can just jump in the car and go right across the country – it’ll be fun…”

So anyway (I say that a lot, don’t I) – long story short (difficult for me but I will try my best) – we headed off in the car and I drove. Secretly, I think the BMB was terrified – especially after I told him I couldn’t twist any longer to check if the way was clear to overtake or to turn out of steeply angled junctions. Since I drive the car like a dodgem too (I only have two speeds in a car, ram foot on pedal and go fast or ram foot on brake and stop), I imagine his poor knuckles were white for about half the trip until he realised that I hadn’t actually forgotten how to do it and wasn’t really going to kill us both! I didn’t though and we got there fine – even if I did find it pretty tiring.

Once there, we met up with a whole bunch of friends and decided it would be a really fun idea to sit out in the baking sun for several days and see how easy it is to get sunstroke. Actually there’s a reason for this as many of you will know, as I am involved in sport at a pretty high level, and this trip was all about getting back into competition. It went great – the BMB ran around helping everyone out like some kind of blue arsed fly and was hugely loved by everyone for it. I (after not doing any training at all for 5 months) had a fab time and came away really happy with a silver medal too!

So, in all this, what of my back? Well, considering everything it was mostly OK. After the driving there, the 4 days of sitting out in the sun without any shade for the hottest 4 days this year, all the exercise, catching up with a bunch of mates and the driving home (phew!) I got though it all. I did learn some stuff though – stretching too much hurts your scar and where your ribs should be. Doing too much exercise makes your back ache and when it does I end up dragging my leg around like its attached to a ball and chain (or maybe like I’m walking through glue – oh yes, or even quicksand…). But despite all this it was superb.

There was one odd thing and it only happened with the BMB – I found that when I look up at him look up at a certain angle I go all dizzy. First of all I though that maybe it was because he was so handsome or something^*4, but now I think it’s because he is so tall. When I started PT I was getting lots of these spells and my physio told me that told me that this would happen (no, not that I would come over all unnecessary at tall men, don’t be silly), but the dizzy spells. She said that because I had spent so many years with my head held oddly to compensate for the balance of my spine, it had to readjust for the new position. At first I got dizzy going upstairs and although I put it down to altitude sickness, it did get better if I didn’t look up to see where I was going. Over the past few months, the spells have got much better, but I’d better learn fast not to look up at tall men on my right hand side - unless I want to be known as the girl who swoons at the feet of tall stangers…!

^*1 See earlier postings.
^*2 Certain people may find this funny…
^*3 Lots of ‘sorries’ followed this bit.
^*4 I have to say this or he will be hurt.

Mobile phone ringtones

You have to wonder sometimes about why people use different ring-tones on their mobile phone. Is it their favourite record (I admit to having tried this but heavy metal just doesn’t sound the same …grin ) or is it just what’s fashionable like the Crazy Frog thing? (And despite what people think of me I am not so annoying that I ever tried that!). Well, I’ll tell you what I use and why. The simple ‘why’ is that all the things that came on my phone were really, really awful except one. I have a Motorola phone ^*1 and they’re quite common ^*2 so imagine (and this is true, believe me) – all those people who can’t be a*sed to download anything new try all the ring-tones that come with the phone. They too find that they are all really, really awful except one – so they use that one. Result? Phone rings in Tesco and twenty people all start digging in their handbags and pockets…

Anyway, back to me – ‘cos this is my blog and I can write about me in it if I want. I use the Mission Impossible theme – corny huh? Well, it represents the fact that I almost never get to it in time to answer it – that’s where the Mission Impossible bit comes in. Is it buried in the bowels of my handbag, amongst discarded sweet wrappers, a purse, a swiss army knife, keys, a tape measure, a nail file (why? When I have a swiss army knife), a lipstick (again why? Have you ever seen me wearing it?) and a dozen other things that may or may not belong to me? Or, is it simply in the lounge when I am in the kitchen? (I am so slow that I could be beaten in a race to get to it by a tortoise riding on the back of a slug!) If it is in the lounge, there is every likelihood that it could be under the sofa^*3 where the cats have probably tried to hide it in order to muffle the irritating ring-tone. It could be just about anywhere in fact…

You see…what and why……

BTW, I do know someone very close to me who has a very normal ring-tone for their everyday calls but uses the special ring-tone of the Addams Family just for the mother in law….

^*1I have a pink V3 – I love it and this does not make me a poser or chav – I just like it – OK?
^*2 Yes, you’re right, pink V3’s aren’t that common – but it seems that Motorola use pretty much the same ringtones for all their phone models.
^*3 If you don't get this link, here's a hint - look at the pictures.

5 Months Post Op today

Actually, I’m lying, I’m not 5 months today, I will be 5 months tomorrow – but that’s Saturday. You may be thinking that the Internet is still there on a Saturday, but I won’t be. Not that I’ll be away or anything but as I’ve mentioned before – I’m a weekday blogger!

So, at 5 months, how do I feel? Well pretty darn good actually. I would be lying if I said I didn’t have any pain because I do, but some of that is caused by the arthritis I have at the base of my spine, and the operation was never going to make that go away! I am still getting pain from my ribs (or lack of them). The ‘phantom’ ones in particular really play me up – of course, it may also have something to do with the fact that my chest drain was really close to this area and my diaphragm got sliced in two as well. Thinking about that – I’m assuming it will take a long time before coughing and sneezing doesn’t result in a string of expletives!

I’m also getting some pain in my left hip – I had such a big sideshift that my right leg used to take all my weight. Now my left one has to do some of the work and it whinges from time to time…Oh yes, and I still have the dead thigh thing – looks like I’m stuck with it. (Not to worry, it’ll be handy at party times when we don’t have anywhere suitable to play ‘pin the tail on the donkey’). Thankfully, the feeling is starting to come back around my scar and at the rate it’s going I think I should be able to feel my podgy tummy properly by Christmas! Seriously the tummy is not as podgy as it was, just still a bit swollen over my ribs –“still have some fullness there” as my surgeon nicely(?) put it!
So, to drugs - no, not that type (!) – the ones I’m supposed to take, what of them? Well, my standard painkillers are down to about the same as they were before the op – I’m taking less of them at a slightly higher dose. I am managing to steadily decrease them at the moment so watch this space. The news on the nerve pain is not so hot. I recently went to my doctor and said I wanted to reduce the dose, as since I had no nerve pain whilst on them I thought this meant I was fixed. She thought it odd that someone wanted to get off their medication (our surgery is in that kind of area ^*1) but decided to humour me. I reduced my dosage by one tablet and the pain came back – not badly, but enough for me to realise I wasn’t ‘fixed’. I’m staying on current levels for another month and will have another go. Can’t be helped, but it’s my only piece of bad news so that’s pretty good I think.

My major problems with heartburn have definitely improved. I’m still having some attacks, but they are much less frequent and definitely less painful. I’ve been told that it can take up to a year for everything to settle into its new place so there’s still time for this to improve even more. I no longer seem to have any problems swallowing which is just great. My digestion is back to normal (mostly) – the only odd thing is the habit my stomach has of gurgling madly when I first lie down in bed at night. Hubby has gone from laughing at it to (now he’s used to it) telling me he’s finding it soothing – “rather like whale song” he says!

Apart from all of this stuff, I feel really well in myself. Of course, we’ve had a fair bit of sun lately and I love sunny weather. Having my restrictions lifted has meant that I can go out in the car and also get out and potter in the garden – something I really enjoy. It all means I’m much less frustrated with not being able (or allowed) to do anything.

An odd upside (I think) that I didn’t expect is the fact that I have had to buy so many new clothes. I thought I might like to (as different styles would now fit), but I never expected to have to replace all my trousers ^*2. It seems that enough of your lumbar spine is below your waistband to make a difference and your waistband just simply doesn’t end up being, well, where it used to be! For me, I have decided to have a bit of a new look – I am growing my hair (yes really) to a longer short style and have even bought a t-shirt recently which has flowers on it instead of a slogan. Give me another year or so and people will accuse me of growing up!

Anyway, I know this is a long post but I guess these update ones will be. The next back one will be on or around the 8th of August. Then, I shall be 6 months post op – can you believe it?

^*1 Here in Wales, everything is bilingual – Welsh^*3 and English. The signs in our surgery are in about 17 languages whereas in our old one (way over in Wooly West Wales^*4) you were lucky sometimes to find the English sign!
^*2 L. and all the other friends in US, you’d call these pants – over here pants are what go under your trousers (if you get my drift). An aside on this subject (just to save any embarrassment) is that in the good ole US of A, what you call a fanny means something very different over here. Over here it’s a – well, I can’t say, I’m too much of a lady, but it’s something that little girls have one of, and little boys don’t! Oh, and on a similar note, a gem for my Australian readers – if you want to seal a parcel, don’t ask for Durex in the UK – you’ll just get a well know prophylactic. I used this nice long word so I didn’t have to use any rude words, but if you don’t know what one of those is, please look here – don’t Google it – heaven knows what you’ll come up with…..
^*3 Learn it here, with Colin and Cumberland!
^*4Have you noticed how often www crops up - spooky eh? I wonder if it's something to do with the mice myself....

I've added some more links - look...

I thought I’d start with some fun – and absolutely no poetry – guaranteed! And oh yes, this does have an American flavour, but why not?

Then, there’s the gadgets weblog. I always knew that there were things missing from my life, I just never realised that they were a computer rear view mirror and a pancake maker that imprints Jesus’s face on everything I cook! Well, it’s important that you too know about these things….BTW, there are serious items here too – it’s not all fun and games you know!

The next site that I drop into from time to time is The Apothecaries drawer. This is just an amazing website full of – well, I don’t know what really, just lots of stuff. It calls itself an eclectic and sceptical look at topics near the triple point of science arts and culture. I keep going back to the blog in particular (even though it’s not updated that often) - I don’t think I’ve scratched the surface of it, but it is just stuffed full of amazing , well, stuff. It was here that I came across the work of Rob Gonsalves . This man has some incredibly Escher-like touches – some of the stuff is just brilliant – very surreal and totally amazing.

This one is being added to my links page - Clothing ideas for people with back irregularities

Oh yes, and on the subject of eclectic stuff – OK, so I didn’t actually say that my links were eclectic, but you must have guessed by now…anyway, I just love this blog by, and called Paper Lily. It’s comment on design really, but good (or simply unusual) design comes into so many of our everyday items and mostly we just ignore it. I think it’s good to stop and look at the beauty of a colander once in a while…..

The Perfect Daytime TV Show

Whilst I have been unable to do anything (you don’t know why? Keep up, keep up…), I have watched a certain amount of daytime TV. I’ve still chosen what I wanted to watch rather than just leaving the box on all day and I am still unaware how many soaps there are on every day. Maybe they all have soporific theme tunes or something – that might explain it. Anyway, I have noticed that there are a large number of cookery/DIY/Gardening shows on along with the normal daytime stuff and after I woke up the other morning, having had one of those really bizarre dreams in which the world as you know it is completely weird and you’re married to your high school teacher who is an alien or some other such rubbish ^*1 and it occurred to me that I had, overnight, come up with the perfect daytime TV show. It goes something like this…

The show has two contestants who have to choose a house in the country and then break into it – outlining its security weaknesses. Once inside, they have to identify any valuables and then auction them in order to fund a complete makeover of every room in the house, including the kitchen. As soon as the kitchen is finished, they have to cook a meal and invite 6 perfect strangers, picked randomly out of the phone book to come to dinner. They then must re-plan and plant the front garden in such a way that the presenters of the programme can identify it easily in order to bring the contestants back to the studio. Backstage in the studio will be the owners of the house that has just been broken into and completely remodelled on a pittance. They are invited to meet the contestants. (Any abuse hurled at this point will only add to the general excitement of the show). The winner is the person who manages to complete the task in just one day and it will be broadcast in real time over 24 single hour episodes. Kergchung, kergchung…….<sup>*2

*1</sup>Actually in my dream, the house was full of things that weren’t my cats but looked like them. In reality they were man-eating monsters that had disguised themselves as cats (how they did the size change I have no idea because when they were monsters they were man sized not cat sized – I mean, cat sized man eating monsters wouldn’t be too bad, umm unless there were thousands of them of course). I would have killed them all but I couldn’t tell them apart and didn’t want to kill my own cats (they were cunning enough to never appear at the same time). I ran away (yeah right) at one point and was cornered by the back door (which wasn’t my back door, even though it was my house – in fact it seemed to be in my lounge?) and when one of them tapped me on the shoulder I screamed so loud I woke myself up. Gosh the brain is a strange thing….
^*2 I’m an addict I’m afraid on this