More on major splatter.

Writing my last blog entry reminded me of a couple of major splatter incidents that have happened to us over the years and somehow the memory of them is much funnier than they seemed at the time….

Firstly, many years ago, I dropped a pyrex bowl full of spaghetti sauce in the kitchen and the base of the bowl hit the floor and bounced back up (amazingly the bowl stayed intact). The contents of that bowl flew out so far that they hit the ceiling and the walls either side of the room and we ended up having to redecorate just to cover up what looked horribly like dried blood splattered all over the place.

What made matters worse, was that having redecorated (in a colour that actually looked much, much nicer on the paint chart than it ever did on the walls), we had another little mishap. We had friends down for the weekend (the BUF and her VNSO in fact) and hubby went out to the kitchen to open (another) bottle of red wine. Just as the cork came out, the bottle slipped, hit the floor and (unlike the glass bowl), exploded. Red wine went absolutely everywhere, including halfway up the nearest (newly painted) wall. That did make a mess and we wiped off the worst of it before opening (another) bottle of red wine and getting back to wherever we were in the conversation.

The next day we noticed that the wall wasn’t really very clean and tried to wash off the rest of the wine. Well, it seems that Cabernet Merlot is quite a good dye and it wouldn’t scrub off. Never mind we thought, newish paint - we’ve still got paint in the tin – we’ll just give it another coat – job done! Well, the paint went on, the wine stain bled though. Another coat of paint – it bled though again. Stain proof paint? – Nope – bled though….and in the end we half panelled the walls just to hide it.

I just hate to think what the new owners thought when they bought the house and (probably) stripped off the panelling. They’re probably looking for bodies buried in the garden as I write this….

How to rebuild your wall – the messy way….

Well, after taking the wall down, we had to put one back up – it being a bathroom - privacy being an issue without a wall there^*1. We boarded out the new wall and then decided to mix up some plaster to skim the joints etc.

Hubby, being a trusting soul left the job of mixing the plaster to me while he went off to do something else. I tipped the water in the bucket and then added the plaster one dustpan worth at a time (I can’t do that thing where you lift the bag up and tip it – much too messy (and heavy)!). It is at this point I should tell you that rather that using the kitchen whisk (don’t laugh, it’s been done) I had attached our whirligig thing to the drill to make the job easy.

Now we’ve had our whirligig for a while and its getting a bit old, but over the years we’ve used it for all sorts from paint to cement to cake mix (well maybe not really cake mix – I’ve never actually needed to make a cake that big) and its coped admirably with everything so I really didn’t doubt it for one instance - even though its starting to get a bit rusty. Well, I should have doubted it, ‘cos as I stuck it in the bucket and turned it on, the whirlies came away from the gig (or at least the arms kinda parted company with the shaft) and as they flew out sideways, they produced a fountain of plaster, plaster powder and water which flew upwards and outwards at great velocity. I shrieked (well, anyone would have) and hubby came running. He came though the door (I think expecting to find me fallen over or electrocuted or something) and found me, the walls, the bath, the ceiling, the window and everything else, dripping with this gloopy mess. He laughed so much he nearly wet himself – sympathy – not a chance…..

^*1OK, OK there are two sides to a wall, I admit it!

Ummm, just how easily are walls supposed to fall down?

So, we are (finally) doing the bathroom. When we moved in (nearly 6 years ago) we decided it needed doing and have been putting off ever since. Well, a permanently dripping tap which turned into a running tap tipped me over the edge….”I’ve found a plumber”, I said “and here’s the bathroom catalogue – pick something!”

So, we settled down to lots of shopping, decided on suites and tiles and all sorts and finally made up our minds. So far, so good!

The next job was to start ripping out the old suite and generally make good before getting ready to re-tile and the get the new suite fitted. We live in an old house – its Victorian – which is very nice, but sometime means your floors and walls are a bit on the wonky and worn side. In fact, sometimes these things get patched up relatively unsuccessfully – usually by previous owners. One of my personal pet hates was the fact that we had Victorian 8” moulded skirting board on one wall and 1960’s 5” plain on another. It will all have to go we (I) decided and be replaced with new (Victorian style) skirtings. Well, we knew that the plaster on that one wall was a bit dodgy, and taking off the skirting would make a bit of a mess, but I’m OK at filling (I’ve had a lot of practice over the years on various walls, cars and of course the wrinkles on my face) so we thought we’d go for it. Well, after pulling it off, there was a bit of a mess and a bit higher up the wall a large chunk of plaster had fallen out. Never mind, we thought, we’d just hack back to a good bit and re-plaster the little hole as necessary.

Tap tap with hammer…..

Oops – umm, how did that happen (three feet away a 2ft by 1ft section of plaster lands on the floor)….

….never mind, we’ll just hack back to a good bit and re-plaster the 'little' hole as necessary.

Tap tap with hammer…..thud, crumble crumble…thud…oops…

“Umm, hubby – have you found a good bit of plaster yet?”

Well, finally we had hacked back to good plaster and we stood back and surveyed our work. There it was – a 2ft by 3 ft section up in one corner of the room and apart from that the whole wall lay in bits on the floor.

“So, that’ll be rebuilding the wall then, before we start the tiling?”

Good Ole US of A

So, I’ve been away for a couple of days and while hubby stayed at home and hacked all the tiles off the bathroom walls, I was off gadding about at important meetings and stuff. In addition there was also some preparation for the latest upcoming trip which is going to be 10 days in Arizona at a major event.

So our conversation over the dinner table turned to the forthcoming trip and it went something like this. EO^*1 was getting quite animated:

• EO: “It’s brilliant that we’re going to Arizona isn’t it...?”
• Me: “Well, yes, I’m really looking forward to it”.
• EO: “…and I was in touch with my friend TJ and he tells me that the Americans are going to be there….”
• Me: “Well, they would be - its Arizona…”
• EO (in a rather more excited tone): “…but the Americans are going to be there…”
• Me: “I think they’ll be a lot of Americans there…”
• EO: “…no, I mean the Americans”
• WW: “I still think there’ll be lots and lots of Americans there – you do know Arizona is in America don’t you?”

…at this point EO nearly threw her dinner at me^*2 until she realised that I was deliberately misunderstanding her to wind her up…I knew all along that she meant the American team with whom she is quite friendly and who will also be at the same event.

^*1 Eeyore’s owner – well, not his real owner obviously ‘cos that would be Christopher Robin wouldn’t it?
^*2 There are worse things you can do with mass catering….like eat it!

Well, I did promise…

So I did promise to tell you the tale of the big bad cable tv man and the even bigger badder satellite man (or was it the other way round) so here it is.

Once upon a time, there was a hubby and his warped woman and they lived happily in a little house not too far from what used to be a coal mine. They liked watching television, especially science fiction programmes like Stargate and warped woman was also very, very keen on 24. 24 was halfway through the series and getting very exciting so she eagerly looked forward to Sunday nights when she would watch it and then phone ‘A’ and have a good chat about what had happened.

Time passed by happily until one Wednesday night when hubby and WW were watching the late news. It said that Virgin Media were dropping Sky channels at midnight. Well, hubby and WW were a bit mystified at this but since Virgin had only just taken over their cable channel they thought it couldn’t really apply to them and so went to bed and dreamed of spaceships and Jack Bauer.

In the morning hubby phoned WW from work – “Have you checked the TV today?” he asked, “Do we still have Sky?” When WW looked, Sky was gone from the channel line-up and there was just a message from Virgin saying that due to a rise in price they would no longer be supplying Sky Channels. There was much weeping wailing and gnashing of teeth over this – no more Stargate, no more Jack – what were they to do?

Well, as with many tales, this one too has a happy ending as WW phoned the Sky company and the nice men from Sky came and fitted a shiny dish to the back of the house. Since it points straight at the sky, it gets all the science fiction straight from the spaceships and Jack is back saving the universe from the bad guys. All the services seem to work better than the cable did and through some quirk (yet another mistake by the cable company in fact), its costing less too! WW and hubby are now very happy and think that every cloud has a silver lining.

The End!

Actually, this isn’t strictly the end, as I simply wish to add a comment. There has been a certain amount of name throwing via the press between Sky (the Rupert Murdoch Empire) and Virgin (the Richard Branson Empire). It seems that with the renewal of a contract Sky wanted to raise their prices – they think that since they have the best channels (well, they have apart from the BBC) then they should get a fair (or unfairly high depending on who you listen to) price. Virgin didn’t want to pay any more than they were already paying and so said that unless Sky asked for a more reasonable figure, they wouldn’t pay up and therefore wouldn’t continue to have the right to broadcast Sky channels. They also figured that people would stick with them having decided that Sky channels weren’t that good after all.

I might have agreed with them, or at least sympathised with them except for one thing. In their infinite wisdom they didn’t see that we, as customers, needed to know what was going on. They chopped our channels without bothering to tell us in advance and without apology afterwards. In my book this was inexcusable. They have my e-mail address (heck they supply it), my phone number and my address. One e-mail could have been sent to every customer at a pence cost to the company, but no, nothing, zilch, nada. So, we continue with the phone and broadband until they pull the next stunt and the TV comes from the sky (literally!) ….and yes, silver linings and all that, it has worked out cheaper – about £15 a month (no, I don’t know how either!)

Oooh the pain

I haven’t blogged anything for a whole week now. This is partly ‘cos:

1. hubby has had a week off (yay!)
   
2. we no longer have a bathroom (see note 1.)
3. I have a baddie wrist (tendonitis) – this means I am only typing with one hand and it’s a pain in the ….wrist actually (well, what did you think I was going to say?)

I fully intend catching up soon with Virgin Media and Sky One (please note, I’m not as mad as I was), tales from the plumber’s life (or at least why we no longer have a bathroom) and an amusing tale from (almost) over the pond as well as other such drivel just as soon as I can type with two hands.

Magnetism

So I was just in Tesco and I saw a "Magnetic Excercise Bicycle" for sale.
What's that about?
Does it mean that for storage you can just stick it to the fridge or what???

I think I have been very quiet lately…

I think I’ve been quite quiet lately in my blog^*1. This is mostly ‘cos I have a completely utterly boring life and I didn’t want to write blah blah blah, blah blah blah and all that stuff.

Seriously, I don’t know if it’s true that I have a boring life, as I do get to zot off all over the place on trips and stuff, but my life is not exciting in a sky diving, roller coaster kind of way. I wonder sometimes about what is (or what seems to be) an exciting life to another person. F’rinstance, is my life exciting to someone else, or do you have to be Victoria Beckham (you will love how verbose she is on this, her very own blog), before your life gets exciting or do you maybe have to be Ellen McArthur ? Do you suppose that poor ole Ellen when she is halfway across the Atlantic, freezing her nuts off (or would be if she had any) suddenly sits down and goes, ‘Gosh, isn’t this exciting?’ – or do you suppose that she ties another knot (or whatever it is she does out there) and thinks - ‘Gosh, this is boring – wish I had a telly so I could watch Sky One^*2’. Maybe Victoria Beckham after doing her 3000th crunch before breakfast with her kid constantly interrupting her and wanting to know if he can have spaghetti hoops for breakfast – with marmalade – thinks ‘Gosh, this is boring – I wish I could do something different with my life.’

What I’m trying to get at here is that surely it’s all just a matter of perspective. As they say (whoever they are) one man’s meat is another man’s poison but I guess mostly people think that something (anything) different from what they do would be more exciting. Grass is greener and all that…

As for me, well, often I think that all this excitement stuff is overrated. Give me a boring old night in with my best friend and a bottle of red or a good book and a nice warm room and I can be happy. That’s not to say that I’d trade in the exciting stuff, but it’s nice to have a balance…

^*1 I had to add the term "in my blog" here as everyone who knows me knows that I cannot be quiet for any length of time at all. The term chatterbox was invented for people like me....
^*2 This is another blog entry and one that I am still too furious to blog about ….watch this space for ranting and raving soon….

Why do some things make you feel so guilty?

I just had one of those highly inspirational e-mails – you know the kind of thing I’m sure, but this one said:

“Never save something for a special occasion. Every day in your life is a special occasion”.

Now, it’s not the sentiment that I want to draw your attention to – even though I actually think that one is one of the best around. In fact, many of these messages have really good things to say or for us to think about, but I often don’t like to receive them. So why is this – it’s got nothing to do with the message, or the person who sent it to me – but everything to do with those horrid few sentences at the end. You know the bits I mean – the bits that say forward this to 5 of your friends or you will die of Dengue fever or forward this to 5 of your friends or suffer bad luck for a year or forward this to 5 of your friends and something good will happen or even forward this to 15 of your friends and you will win the lottery on Saturday! Why, why, why??? I am now taking to stripping out all of that and sending them on to the people to whom I think they will make a difference but secretly I fear that Dengue fever is just waiting around the corner. What is it about the power of words, that those delivered by total strangers are able to make me feel guilty about not forwarding them – and – I know I am not alone! It’s this whole guilt thing that leads to people forwarding chain letters around the world because they are too frightened not to ………

Well, I think I've found the solution to nasty tropical diseases for anything I get that I don't want to send on - it's Chain Letters Anonymous!

By golly it’s dark in the sticks….

So I went away (but as you can see I came back so that’s OK). I had a pretty good weekend (this is an understatement as things went very well and so I actually had a very good weekend) but as usual at these things I ended up absolutely pooped! ^*1

After a late meeting on the Friday night I finally got back to my room and decided to have a bit of a relax and read before going off to sleep. Now I should have realised that there was going to be a problem straight off, but I am optimistic little soul and just though it would be OK. You see, the light switch for the bedside light was mounted on the wall, kinda half behind the headboard. So, I propped a couple of pillows up against the headboard, turned on the light and picked up my book. I relaxed back against the pillows and the light went out! I leaned forward and it came back on! I shifted the pillows just a bit and discovered that the light when on off on off on off every time I breathed in and out which was really just plain annoying and not conducive to a nice relaxing read!

So I got up and got a pair of socks out of my suitcase and wedged them between the headboard and the wall, made myself a cup of hot chocolate (since I was up and halfway to the kettle anyway) and settled back down. The socks did it nicely and the light stayed on. So, there I was, just getting to a juicy bit in the book and I leaned forward to pick up my cup. Unbeknownst to me, the socks escaped and fell down the back of the headboard and when I leaned back against the pillows, yep, you’ve guessed it - the lights went out!

Well, this was just getting a tad annoying by this stage, but now I was missing my socks so I got back out of bed and got down on the floor and started fishing under the bed with my walking stick. I knew it was a bad idea to lean on the bed to do this, ‘cos just as I managed to hook them from the furthest corners under the bed (thankfully there was no monster^*2 under there) I pushed a bit too hard on the bed and the light went out again. This time, when I shifted my weight the light stayed off and so there I was in pitch blackness (this place is out in the boondocks so no street lights) in a strange room and with no socks to boot.

Well, finally I shuffled around and found the right switch and eventually got my socks back. It was sometime around this point that I realised that I had neglected to lock my door when I came in so anyone could have walked in and found me with my a*se stuck in the air and my head under the bed and the only explanation I would have for it was that the lights kept going out unexpectedly!

^*1In fact so much so that after I got home I started drifting off to sleep whilst watching CSI – and it was a good one! True it wasn’t the series with Gary Sinise (I have a soft spot) but all the same, there I was eyes slipping shut like some old lady in the corner…
^*2Which is good because I didn't have one of these handy.

That’s it – I’m off

Just thought I’d better stick a post up to tell you I’m not sticking a post up (am I making sense??). I shall be away for a few days so there will be no new entries until next week. Now I know you are all bitterly disappointed and wondering how you will fill your empty days, but I’m sure you can manage.

I shall be back after the weekend with tales of derring do, fun, excitement and really wild things (and if nothing exciting has happened I shall make some stuff up!).

In the meantime, take a deep breath – hit the big Google button and let me know if you find anything exciting…..

I have been nominated for an award

I have been nominated for an award, which has totally mystified me as I have no idea why they thought of me. Now don’t get me wrong, I know I’ve done a couple of unusual things in my life that are noteworthy (like having spinal surgery for one), but I didn’t expect to be nominated for anything, let alone this.

Let me explain – out of the blue I had an e-mail from a college tutor saying he wanted to see me. Now I resisted this initially ‘cos he’s not my type (OJ!) but was intrigued so toddled off to see him. He had decided to nominate me for an adult learner award – as a couple of years ago I decided (somewhat foolishly) to do a school exam in physics. Now in itself that doesn’t sound too mad, except that I had never done any science in school and was having some problems comprehending what an atom was, let alone trying to understand such alien concepts as pressure, torque, moments, magnetism, waves and quantum mechanics^*1

So, mad woman that I am, not only did I do a GCSE in the subject, but got persuaded to carry on and do an A level too. Funnily enough, I mostly enjoyed it (apart from the maths and apart from the aforementioned quantum mechanics….) and I thought that that was that. Having learnt why sticks look bent in water and how electricity gets down wires and also that neither of those things have anything to do with little green men was enough for me….

So, why nominate me for the award? He wouldn’t say, just that I was the first person he thought of. I’m thinking at this stage that there is an age limit associated with this and it’s none too flattering – still regardless of the reason I’m chuffed just the same!

^*1 Have I lost you yet?

Snow pictures

Well, I promised some, so here they are:

Well, above is proof that it was snowing alright....

...and on the left we have an idiot driver who thinks that it's just fine and dandy to whack a couple of cars as he slithers his way along. (This photo doesn't show just how steep our hill is, just how icy the road was and just how stupid he was to even think of doing what he tried to do).

Maybe I should give him a PWSBK award?







I love it though - it always looks so pretty - all that fairy dust on the trees - just like someone's been out with the sugar sifter!


Hope you like the photos.....

...I guess that'll be it for snow and excitement for another ten years so I thought I ought to post them now while I have the opportunity!

So sad...

Today I heard the very sad news that someone from one of the scoliosis forums died after complications from her scoliosis surgery. She was due to be fused from T6 to L3 through a posterior only incision which is supposed to be the most risk free way to do it. She had a very experienced surgeon but the anaesthetist made a mistake which meant that blood ended up being pumped into her lungs and she suffered a massive stroke which ultimately led to her death.

Her surgery took place exactly 12 months after my surgery and so I felt some kind of connection with this lady whose thoughts, concens and fears were the same as for us all. She was only 31 and will be missed by us all on the forum.

It is very sad and I want to join in with so many other people in sending warm thoughts and sympathy to her family....

Ah, snow. Don’t you just love it?

So we had snow. We don’t do this very often in the Southern half of Britain, let alone where I live so it is always the cause of much excitement and confusion. Me, I think it’s great to look at but here’s the rub, it’s cold stuff and even before someone shoved a yard of metal in my back I didn’t like the cold. Now I have my own personal inbuilt cooling rod, I like it even less – except through the window when it is very pretty and sometimes fun and always great to take pictures of (I shall stick some up for you in a few days…).

We haven’t had significant snow since we moved in here 6 years ago and they forecast that Thursday was to be the exception to that. They closed the schools in preparation – the news reporters all took up heir allotted posts at the areas worst (potential) accident black-spots and we all looked to the skies. Well, when the snow started falling you could just see the country’s weather forecasters all smiling glibly and patting each other on the back for having got it right (remembering at all times that this is the country where Michael Fish famously said that there was no hurricane on the way). In fact, they forecast that it would snow from the wee small hours until lunchtime and this is exactly what it did. Hardy souls like hubby went to work and the rest of us just decided to stay in and do things Friday instead as the forecast for then was for nothing more than a bit of rain….

So, Friday, hubby goes to work as normal and a bit later I looked out the window to find that it was snowing again – completely un-forecast! It looked bad too – I couldn’t see the hill behind the house but figured that it would all be over soon and pretty much ignored it. An hour or so later I looked out the front window to discover that the hill outside was covered in snow and was freezing fast. People had started sliding sideways down the hill and we were gathering casualties by the hour as they bounced from one pavement to another hitting cars and walls as they went. Some seemed to think the best thing to do was to accelerate all the way down the hill (presumably with their eyes closed) and others seemed to think that just locking up the wheels and wiggling the steering wheel from side to side (also presumably with their eyes closed ) was the way to go. My car was protected for several hours by someone who missed it by about 2 inches but then got stuck diagonally in the road just ensuring that everyone had to go round him (and me)! I have to say that I spent a large part of the day in the window holding my breath…..but thankfully my little car survived the afternoon - safe but a bit frightened!

Occasionally someone decided that they could make it up the hill (presumably because they thought that they were a superb driver whose Renault Clio has better traction than anybody else’s) and a lot of people had to swallow their pride and reverse (or at least slide) back down again. I saw one guy impressively sail up the hill in a Subaru Impreza – reckon he must have had spiked tyres he did so well, but apart from the odd Jeep or Landrover (who are obviously experts as they plainly do not buy these vehicles just to do the school run...) he was the only one who made it. Actually, that’s a fib – a Rover made it earlier in the day, but he hit 3 cars that I could see – an almost new Rover – not a nice way to treat it….

Anyway, for quite some time I was able to judge how deep the snow was (about 6”) by the pile on the top of my car until some ‘orrible little oik decided to scrape some off for snowballs – OK so it gave me a measure of how much had fallen in the two hours (about 2”) until another equally ‘orrible little oik decided to do it again. I bet they are exactly the kind of children who grow up to write their name in the snow too….My my, that makes me sound like a grumpy old git myself, but I really do like the pristine-ness (is there such a word?) of fresh snow.

So, the forecasters were wrong again and the country ground to a halt for another 24 hours. I was just grateful that it cleared enough for us to get away to PTV and HLW for the weekend – I was horribly afraid that they would be eating posh food without us and that we would have to have beans on toast or whatever I could dig out of the freezer as the news had reported that the shelves in Tesco were empty after panic buying! Winter eh? Two days of snow and the world goes mad….

A comment on yesterday

So, a year and a day eh? (don’t worry, I shan’t do this every day- ergo- a year and a day, a year and two days, a year and….well, you get the picture!).

I just thought I’d leave a brief note on further updates on my back (for those of you mad enough to want to check up on me). I intend doing an update every 3 months for this first (second) year and then we’ll see if there’s any point in doing any more. In the meantime, there’s always space in my blog for more dribble - oops, sorry, that should have said drivel, I was just thinking about chocolate at the time and it sort of slipped out. No, don’t be so gross, I didn’t need to mop up the keyboard or anything…..

It’s my anniversary….

…I’m 12 months post op today and what a wild ride it’s been!

Be warned, this is a long post too…

It is hard to believe that in the last 12 months I have been opened up, had my insides rearranged during surgery, had 2 ribs removed, ground up and stuck back inside me in a different place and had a couple of large chunks of metal shoved inside me. I’ve had my lung collapsed and been in ITU for less time than anyone ever expected. I’ve had nerve damage that meant I had to learn to walk all over again, let alone learning to do it a different way because my balance has been completely changed. I’ve bought one pair of very funky walking sticks and am contemplating a second set. I have taken my wheelchair to Belgium, Czech Republic and China and have exceeded my wildest dreams of timing during my recovery. That’s some ride, isn’t it?

Getting this surgery done seemed to take over my life. It was never far from my thoughts before the op – when I wasn’t wishing I could get it over with, I was wondering if it was really necessary at all. Talk about the sublime to the ridiculous, but it’s true, that’s the way it was. Then of course, it happened and my life for the next few months was just plain hard work – from those first moments when (excuse me for being gross) I had to have help to wipe my own bum; through the effort it took just to get a drink once hubby had gone back to work; and then all those exercises that I had from the physio – it’s not the easy route by any means…

Having said that, it was the most worthwhile thing that I have done in recent years and indeed it may turn out to be the most worthwhile thing I ever do for my future health. I would go through it again if I had to and that’s saying something!

There are lots of reasons to consider surgery like this, but none so compelling as the prospect of doom and gloom in the future. The trouble is, that it’s the hardest one to quantify too – there’s always the feeling that you will cope whatever happens over time. Whatever pain you are in, well, you know what its like; you fear that things will get worse instead of better or that the recovery will be so painful and stressful that it isn’t worth trying. Of course, the decision is a hard one to make and that’s especially true if you have borderline curves (say 40 degrees). Of course, for me, (although I had had a pair of 45 degree curves for around 20 years without them ever moving) I more recently had a documented history of progression – my curves weren’t just progressing, they were accelerating. It seems they shifted the normal 1-2 degrees a year for a few years and then started galloping along at 6 degrees a year. 6 degrees! That’s 12 degrees in 2 years, 18 in 3 years etc – just do the maths. Bad news, when you start from a 75 degree curve!

So, I got it done and I am happy. I have still ended up with what some people would consider significant scoliosis (with curves of 30 degrees thoracic and 33 degrees lumbar). That will never go away and in time, my thoracic curve may shift and need more surgery – not at the moment though (and hopefully not ever). I still get significant back pain and still get the heartburn problems. That’s the bad news though and sounds worse than it is because all my symptoms have been massively reduced – probably by 50% - which coincidentally is about the amount of correction they managed to get in my curves. Now I wonder if there’s any link between those two facts…..

So, that’s it really – I get less pain now and that should always be true. My curve hasn’t moved for 12 months and that should also always be true. My heart and lungs are no longer in danger. True. My internal organs ditto. I am fit and healthy. So that’s all the practical stuff, but then there’s the other stuff which is just a nice bonus - like gaining 2 inches in height and being able to wear some clothes that I never thought I would. The operation has given me all that and was so worth all the agonising, all the risks and all the effort. If anyone out there is contemplating going through it, think about it carefully, consider your own circumstances, but don’t fail to get it done just through fear of the unknown.

Comments on toplessness...

So, I posted my topless photos and went away for the weekend. When I came home I checked my statcounter and discovered that over the weekend I had had about 5 times as many hits than I usually get on a weekend (and for once I am not exaggerating!). I mentioned this to hubby as I was mystified by the sudden increase in readership.

"Ah", says hubby sagely "that'll be all those teenage boys Googling 'topless photos' while their parents are out doing the weekend shopping."

Oops....


Interestingly too, I am fascinated to learn that there is now a verb to Google although Google themselves want to try and keep it out of the dictionary...it's an amazing (and confusing) world isn't it?

Cars…don’t you just love ‘em….

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…

On the subject of cars, I took extreme pleasure this week in watching the 50,000 roll round in my little car. I also took it for its MOT and it passed first time. Now you may think that this is nothing exceptional for a car with such a low mileage, but when you consider that it is just a few months short of its 24th birthday, I think its pretty good. Now, next year it will be 25 years old and that will really be something – I definitely see the need for a party then….

More topless photos

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….

Draining away (not!). An update

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….

OMG, the drain man’s here….

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.

The turkey saga

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?

Only a month to go to my surgery anniversary

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.

I had my 6 month Check-up today!

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….

The Cats’ Calamitous Christmas

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

A Smacked Wrist For Me

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....

Santa Day is nearly here!

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!

Don’t you just love the little darlings….

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…”

Automatic opening (and closing)

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…

Expressions are funny sometimes

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

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!

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My 10 month report

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…..

It was a dark and stormy night

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……

Everyone’s seeing red now…..

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…..