Hoop-bra ...or should that be Bra-la?

The other night I had fun in the bedroom...not, not that kind of fun!

My night-time routine is, well, just that, a routine. I always take my trousers off and then sit on the bed to get the rest of me undressed. I do have a very good reason for this as I have rubbish balance and it gets even worse when the lights go out and I can’t see what I am doing. This means that if I am standing up when I take my t-shirt off, then I fall over. This may be highly amusing for hubby and the cats, but falling on your backside with your naked legs in the air is not really my idea of fun ...so I sit on the bed to get my kit off!

Anyway, there I was, sat on the bed stripping off jumper and t-shirt and flinging then across the room in the hope that they would land on (or at least near) the bench where I am supposed to fold my clothes neatly and place then each night (yeah right, like that good intention ever happened eh?). Anyway, Grace had decided that the bench looked comfy and dodging clothes was interesting so had ensconced herself on some item of clothing that I was trying to decide what to do with^*1. Finally, I reached my bottom layer (the summer has been so cold here I had several layers on), took my bra off and gaily flung that across the room only to perfectly lasso the cat with my bra strap. She just sat there, looking completely bemused for all of about 2 seconds and then leap to her feet. I just knew I had to catch her or she’d be off, with my bra around her neck and who knows where she (or it) would end up!

Well, thankfully I did catch her before she got anywhere really but you should have seen it. That strap didn’t touch her nose or ears, it just sailed through the air and dropped perfectly right over her head without even ruffling her fur just a tiny bit. I just couldn’t do that again if I tried....

^*1 throw out, charity shop, wash and wear again?

More on the same subject.

Imagine if you will a big outlet shopping centre (mall) and car park with several disabled spaces close to the entrance (that’s not hard to do, is it?) To get from the spaces to the shops, you have to cross the road. The shopping centre realised this might be a problem, so they helpfully put in a zebra crossing and to make it even safer, raised it so that it would slow down oncoming vehicles by making it a wide sleeping policeman.

They obviously did this after they had installed their drop curbs (which are really wicked in that they must be about 2 inches high and just perfect to tip you out of your chair) and weren’t quite sure how to handle it so they devised a solution by sloping the raised section off at each end towards the curb. If you are in a chair, it goes something like this:

• Park the car
• Get in chair and push down pavement to drop curb
• Drop off drop curb with a bump and immediately encounter a drastic short uphill onto the top of the speed bump
• Push across crossing – red faced after heaving yourself up slope
• Get some speed up on the flat – you are hurrying because there is a car coming…
• Suddenly encounter the down-slope at the other end of the ramp and start to go very fast
• Encounter (not so) dropped curb – at pace
• Throw yourself 6 feet forward out of wheelchair and hit wall of Nike shop

Mad…..

Actually I was sensible – applied a bit of braking force and discovered that I was then stuck in the down slope, up drop curb bit and needed help to be pushed out …oh the shame….

Your mission should you choose to accept it…

…is to look for dropped curbs in all their silly sorts and sizes. You should remember though, that should you be caught or killed, I will disavow any knowledge of your actions…

Now I’m sure that those of you who have pushed a pushchair, let alone those of you who have propelled a wheelchair, know that drop curbs are really important. You know what I mean, at the side of the road, the bit that slopes into the street so that you don’t have to hoick your chair/pushchair up a major step just to get from one side of the road to the other. Those little slopes are great, but the workmen who lay them are my current arch enemies….

You see, a wheelchair has big wheels at the back and little teeny ones at the front and there is a person sitting in this contraption who has no seatbelt and no brakes suitable for slowing down apart from a strong grip in their fingers. The little teeny wheels when hitting even a very small obstacle can stop very suddenly and momentum (that’s physics that is) means that the energy contained within the chair and the person has to go somewhere. It usually gets dispersed through a couple of things – 1. the person flies forward out of the chair onto the street (the flying forward bit uses up most of the energy) and 2. they make a certain amount of noise (either screaming or swearing) which uses up a bit more energy. Anyway, it ain’t fun…and your friends laugh at you to boot.

Why don’t they make drop kerbs level with the street? Why do they leave a little step (which can be anything up to several inches tall). Are they all mean and are hiding round the next corner waiting to snigger at the person who makes a mad dash across the road – being speedy to try and to avoid the traffic – who then hits the immoveable object with those little front casters and gets hurled out onto the pavement (again!).

So, all I ask is that you spread the message and just look out for them yourself – who knows, here could be a trip waiting to happen there – and not the kind you’d send a postcard from either….

…. this blog will self destruct in five seconds….

The car (again...!)

So, there I was driving to the local ‘big city’ for a days shopping with my mother. It was raining. Actually that’s not true, it was absolutely hammering down and I could hardly clear the water off the windscreen with my one windscreen wiper. Now, don’t panic, it’s only supposed to have one, so that’s OK.

Anyway, as I turned into the street where I was going to park the car started making the most appalling noise and I thought the exhaust had fallen off. People were staring even over the noise of their own stereos and the car seemed rather underpowered. I pulled into the side and peered cautiously under the car. I still appeared to have an exhaust, and as a bonus it was attached. What to do...? Well, I was inspired, I phoned P@NGD (the garage)- “Hey!” I shouted (you had to, it was really noisy), “Listen to this”...and promptly opened the door and shoved the phone under the car...

“OMG” says P@NGD. “get it recovered, I think you snapped the crank or something”.

So, I called the recovery guy and out he came with a big truck^*1, opened the bonnet and peered underneath. “Here’s your problem” he says, “You’ve only got 3 spark plugs! – I don’t know, I think you sabotaged it yourself, just to get me wet...!”

Well, he was kinda cute in his wet t-shirt y’know....

^*1 I like trucks...big trucks

Oh yes, and the car is fine now thanks.....

Lara Croft ..my hero(ine)?

So, I was asked the other day if I had a role model or hero/ine and I said Kelly Holmes. Now I picked her because there she was, the person who always came second, the person who was forever picking up injuries and having to get over it. In short, she just stuck to it all – stubbornness, determination, grit, call it what you will, she just got on with it. In the end, lots of hard work and she comes home with a double gold medal that she plainly was delighted to get. I shall never forget her face after she went over the line, pointing at herself and going me? Me? Did I win? Me?

Anyway, all of that about Kelly is true, but in fact I think my real heroine is Lara Croft…. (although I know I shouldn’t really admit it) Now obviously, what woman wouldn’t like their breasts to point out and up like that without the merest hint of any scaffolding^*1, but what that girl can do, hey, it’s mad. We had the (mis?)fortune to buy an Xbox 360 at Christmas and someone gave me a Lara Croft game. Suddenly I am able to run and shoot at the same time, leap from pole to pole and swing my way across ropes and along narrow mountain ledges. I am a dragon killer and an acrobat, a dead eye dick and a puzzle solver extraordinaire. What a girl eh? (me of course, not her plainly). I even killed the a T Rex the other day!

The Xbox is the biggest time waster in the world and one of the most relaxing things I have ever owned. I find myself immersed, regardless of whether it’s a driving game^*2, Lara Croft or something to do with aeroplanes (which I can’t fly, I can only crash into the ground in many spectacularly different ways). For me it is a guilt free timewaster as I don’t have the time to think “oh I should be doing the ironing” when I’m approaching the next corner at 80 miles an hour, or where Lara is balanced precariously on a pole and needs to get across a chasm filled with tigers.

Great stuff – so thanks BMB for getting me into it.

At this point, you find out where the mis bit comes in the (mis) fortune, as although it's a fine distraction, should I really have this guilt free attitude towards it?


^*1 I can imagine that thousands of teenage boys across the world are there, zooming the camera right up close and getting their first taste of growing up…..only to find out later that real girls just ain’t like that!
^*2 I will own up to being a real fiend on Colin McRae’s Dirt – possibly the best driving game in the world ever....actually, there’s no possibly about it. If Carlsberg did driving games, that’s the one they’d do! Um, and yes, I am a fiend...I do know where the brakes are, but that's just thoeretical really....

BTW, the second link has nothing to do with driving or anything, I just thought it was a great ad!

The continuing car saga

So, I didn't write more, 'cos it was getting to be a very long story, but here I am, back again to finish it off.

Ten days after the gloves being stolen, I went away for the weekend again. This time I didn't take the front off the radio because I didn't have it any more and I left the alarm key fob with hubby who completely failed to use it...not being in the habit of doing so. He woke up in the morning and there was the top of the door...bent back again and this time the door was dished in where the nice little thieves had put their knee against it for leverage. It was back down the bodyshop for me...

"Hey" says the bodyshop guy, " you don't have to keep bending the car just so you can come and see me...and by the way, we've run out of tea bags..."

The car is now back in one piece and has a new door handle and lock too (it finally arrived from Japan ...see the earlier blog entry about the limber hubby!). All was going well until Monday...

Monday the exhaust started to grumble a bit so Tuesday I took it to the nice exhaust man who put it on the ramp. "It's very thin here and here and here its only holding together because the bracket is tight. You need a new back and middle section...it'll be special order (isn't it always?) so I you'd better sit down before I tell you the price!" Anyway, that was that, I needed one whatever the cost, so it was ordered and I went home.

Wednesday I had a call from the exhaust guy to tell me the exhaust was in (how's that for service!) so I jumped in the car and headed off towards the garage. I got about a half a mile, hit a bump in the road and the exhaust went from being quiet enough that you couldn't hear it if you turned the radio up to !!!OMG!!!! I'm deafening all the passers by...!

Good job the part arrived so quick eh?

Good news, anyway, apart from the fact that in the exhaust shop they oohed and ahhed as they hadn't seen a car like mine for about 10 years, they managed to fit the new exhaust in record time and my car is now purring along like a well contented cat.

I am so hoping that the exhaust was the third thing....

The road to.......good intentions and all that!

So, here I am again and I bet you've all been wondering where I am. That's OK, after all, this blog is mostly about wondering, so I guess you had to have a turn sometime!

I guess I should say I'm sorry for being so quiet, but you know how it is, life just gets in the way sometimes....

I have been busy with my little car recently and that on top of getting a new PC up and running -I'm getting there obviously or there'd be no blogging at all, but it still tells me I have no memory when I boot it up! It's odd really, 'cos if I reboot it it suddenly remembers where its memory is and works fine...I don't think I will ever understand electronics...especially when I now have a PC that seems to suffer from dementia!

Anyway, my car has been a problem. It wouldn't have been, only someone broke into it. Now, It has got an alarm and a face off radio, but due to the fact that I had borrowed hubby's car for the weekend I didn't think to take the front off the radio, or ask him to set the alarm. Anyhoo, they got in by bending back the top of the door and this time managed to get in. They stole:

• A packet of sweets with 3 sweets left in it
• The front off the radio
• The trim from the radio front
• A pair of very furry, bright purple gloves

...all of which are of no use to them at all (unless they have cold hands of course...)

In the process, they bent the door and presumably out of sheer frustration that I don't store a million pounds in my glove compartment (which is locked by the way as it has an annoying habit of flying open when I hurtle round corners), they then bent the rear wash wiper arm. That'll be the one part that Honda have discontinued and I can't (yet) find anywhere. I have visions of red hot pokers and rusty saws and what I would do with them if I ever caught the little b*****ds!

Hubby took it down to the body shop for me and they bent the door back. Apparently it went something like this:

1. Open door
2. Place block of wood inside door near the bend at the bottom of the window
3. Push top of door

Result after approximately 3 minutes work? A perfect fitting door!

"What does she owe you?" asks hubby. "
"Well", says the garage guy, "we could do with a new box of tea bags..."

So, that was it, I paid him in tea bags and threw in a box of biscuits too....

...they spoil me those garage guys.....

The birds and the fat ball.

A little while ago I filled the bird feeders and got some fat balls out of the shed. In fact I got 5 fat balls out and then discovered that the holder only takes 3 but since I had already re-locked the shed and I couldn’t be a*sed to open it again just to put them away I put them on the bird table^*1. The next day I looked out the window and they were gone – can you believe how greedy those birds are? No? Well, neither could I!

Anyway, hubby (who is unsurprisingly taller than me) can actually see the patio out the window (the window ledge is a tad high for my petite^*2 almost 5 ft frame) and said he could see one of the fat balls halfway across the patio. The other one was still missing and you know how sometimes your mind goes off on a weird tangent (well mine does anyway, just in case you hadn’t realised over all these years of blogging) and that was it, I had a theory!

I reckon that those fat balls were just too darn heavy for any bird to pick up and fly off with, so they pushed them off the bird table and tried to just roll them on home^*3. You can imagine the scene, can’t you – Mr Sparrow heaves and pushes and shoves and rolls and gets this fat ball back to the nest:

“Honey, I’m home – and look what I brought…we’ll be set up for the whole winter!”

^*1which is a small mesh tray attached to the pole we hang the feeders from.

^*2Petite? I wish – of course I am if petite just means short, but thighs like mine do not qualify for petite in my mind…

^*3 Like Alan Davies’s cats – which is hysterical!

Printing…the furry way

Well, I'm still poorly with my chest infection (something to do with me being chopped in half and having my lung collapsed apparently), but not so poorly that I can't blog a bit and let you know what's going on in my world. So here goes....

My cat is fascinated by the printer. It has a drop down front which automatically activates when you press the print button and he loves the way that the paper slides in the back and then gets spat out the front. He is so intrigued by it all, that he has spent all 3 years of his life trying to figure out what goes on inside this strange box that sits on the desk. In fact, he is so mystified by it that just the sound of the print head moving into position, or the noise the front makes when it drops (which is almost none by the way), is enough to bring him rushing from whatever part of the house he was making mischief in…He has over the years tried peering in through the back, peering in through the front, fishing with his paw in the paper feed tray, the same in the output tray and even trying to get his head stuck right inside the little slot in the front that the paper comes out of. All to no avail, he still hasn’t managed to work out that it’s just a printer…

The other day he excelled himself…

In a frenzy to figure out what was happening inside he shoved his whole arm (and most of his shoulder) up inside the printer from the front – there was a loud grinding noise, then a bang and then more grinding noises and sounds of paper being tortured. The cat just stayed there, fishing around inside as if nothing untoward was happening until I grabbed him and tossed him off the desk. The printer had by this time stopped (unsurprisingly), the red error light was flashing furiously and the little screen had a message on it:

“Warning” it said “Foreign object in print head”….then helpfully “Remove object and press OK”!

Well, I had already removed the cat (bet they never expected that in the factory they built the printer in) and so I pressed OK. It gave me another message:

“Please wait for a bit” …. No, seriously, that is exactly what it said – just that, in plain English. Anyway, so I did, waited – even though I wasn’t exactly certain how long ‘a bit’ was. Anyway, about a minute passed and the printer carried on as if nothing had happened. Of course the page came out with no black anywhere apart from the paw prints on the crumpled up bits but in the end that turned out to be caused by the cartridge floating loosely around inside the box having been displaced by the aforementioned foreign object. Put the cartridge back in and hey presto(!) Canon got themselves their biggest fan….

…well, wouldn’t you be if, after all that your printer still worked?

Poorly girl...

I have been sick and very poorly with a chest infection. At one point I thought I was going to die! Actually, that's not true - and I have to admit to it as my mother has told me a million times not to exaggerate! Anyway, walking and talking both became very difficult from the breathing point of view and that's when I was trying to do them separately! I even had to e-mail everyone I knew to tell them not to phone as I couldn't talk without coughing.

So, I have been on double strength antibiotics now for 5 days and finally am starting to feel a bit better.

So, forgive me for being a bad blog mamma - I'll get back to normality soon I'm sure.

Ah yes, and from a surgical point of view, even if its been two years since you had your diaphragm sliced in two, it still really hurts when you cough really bad!

Not just limber my hubby...

Hubby and I were lying in bed the other morning listening to the radio and drinking coffee which he had kindly brought me^*1. The news came on and there was a report on a study that had found that children who were spoiled at home are more likely to cause trouble in school – especially if they don’t get their own way^*2.

Do you know what hubby said? “Ah, another study from the Department of the Bleeding Obvious”…and that just cracked me up…

..sorry, but I had to share!


^*1 ...and just to make you all jealous, yes, he does this for me nearly every single day! (See, I'm always telling you he's a sweetie!)
^*2 Just in case you are interested… here and here are some of the articles in question.

And, just in case you don’t follow the links….I loved this bit:
“Mr Sinnott also condemned violent computer games for encouraging pupils to kill "pimps and prostitutes".” Where does he get games like that from? It’s not Lara Croft, that’s for sure!!!

On locks, cars and murder in mind

I think I will start with the murder in mind just to get it off my chest! My car has a dent in the rear wing. It is around the size and shape a city tank (Shogun type thing) would make if someone were to reverse out of a space and crush my rear wing with their bumper. I am hopping mad and the b*stards didn’t even leave a note to say sorry. It’s not the end of the world as it should push out ok, but it means stripping all the lining out the boot and removing some bits a pieces and why? All ‘cos some a**e can’t drive properly. There! I’ve said it…I shall now move on with dignity.

My little car had to go in to the garage last week as the key will no longer unlock the driver’s door. It’s been sticky for a while and has now finally given up the ghost. The only thing is, that the lock itself works fine, its just the key barrel that is broken. So, since the door unlocks and locks ok from the inside, then that is what has to be done- the only problem is, that it’s a bit of a palaver for me!

Imagine the scene – you unlock the car from the passenger side^*1 and climb in. Now the fun starts. Do you:

• A) Try to climb over to the driver’s side? With the kind of motor control I have in my legs? Unlikely!
• B) Sit in the passenger side and lean across to unlock the driver’s door from the inside? Ummm, slight problem here, I don’t lean too well owing to the fact I have a ‘rod up my a*se’ (as the expression goes amongst my friends)
• C) Climb into the car, kneel on the passenger seat, lean forward and unlock the door from the inside? Yes, correct!

OK, so with the door unlocked, I then have to climb out of the car, walk around the outside and climb in the driver’s side to get going. This has been going on for a few weeks now as my car is 25 years old and the lock is a special order…I suspect it is coming from Japan – by slow boat…..or is that China? Anyway, it’s coming very slowly, wherever it is coming from so I am having to manage.

Now, locking the door is no problem as I can lock the door when it is open and just slam it shut, which is exactly what I did the other night when I came home. The only thing odd about the other night is that I did have to park on the opposite side of the road to our house. But I didn’t really think anything about that, until the following morning when I went out to the car. You see, opposite our house is the gate to the park and right outside the gate are some railings designed to stop small children from hurtling out of the gate all excited after playing in the park and running headfirst into the nearest passing truck. So, I had parked right by the railings…very close to the railings….close enough that you could barely pass a hand between the door mirror and the railings…the passenger door mirror that is. That would be the same passenger door that I have to unlock, climb inside blah blah blah, to unlock the driver’s door….are you getting a mental image of this?? I only have 2 doors in my car too…and the boot of course. So, minor problem here, how do you get in to the car, through the passenger door, in order to open the driver’s door so that you can go out for the day?

In the end it was hubby to the rescue, as I was all for opening the boot (trunk), climbing inside by dropping the back of the rear seat and getting into the car that way. I was even wondering if I could use a strong magnet to operate the electric sunroof switch through the window, but hubby decided to demonstrate that a man of a certain age, provided he is still lithe and limber can in fact, climb through a gap smaller than any individual part of him. It was impressive !!

^*1 Which thankfully has a keyhole on the passenger side, unlike hubby’s last car.

More things you shouldn’t do post op (Episode X)

Now, of course you may have already got the impression from me that I am a little bit of a stubborn person who likes to just get on with things without asking for help. I of course would not agree – I just do what I do, but there you go.

Anyway, the other day I took it into my head to clean the bedroom top to bottom, moving all (small) moveable objects and not only cleaning under the bed, but moving all the junk under there too so that I could even clean under it instead of around it (novel eh?). At some stage in all of this I realised that whatever I did with the Hoover I couldn’t get to the bit in the middle under the bed from either side and so I got the hose out, with the cat hair removing tool and got down on my stomach and wriggled under the bed.
Something I should mention at this point is that I have always slept on my stomach – my whole life – until the surgery. Since the surgery I cannot sleep or lie on my stomach, it’s not comfortable and if I do it for too long I lock up and can’t move. If my physio wants me to do this she props my stomach and head to make it easier to get me back up but I never thought of this when I started wriggling under the bed.

So, there I am with my little feet sticking out the side of the bed - on my stomach with the Hoover hose in my hand. I find I can’t figure out how to get back out again as my left leg is refusing to take instructions and my spine is stiffening into a rod of iron (or should that be steel?) which is being bent the wrong way. It is at this point that the Hoover finds an errant shoelace within inches of its current position, sucks it up and that wraps itself around some kind of internal doings and the motor starts to strain under the load. To make matters worse, smoke starts to pour out from the region of the motor and even flailing my arm around I can only just get fingertips to the Hoover body but not the on/off switch! The cat (who has been hiding under the bed because of the Hoover noise) comes up to me to investigate the gnashing of teeth and licks my nose….(yup, that was helpful I’m sure)

Anyway, somehow I wriggle out in a type of rolling fashion (Lara Croft would’ve been proud of me!) heaving myself forward by grabbing the chest of drawers and hit the Hoover button. Smoke stops and I heave a big sigh of relief…

…and that was it for me for the day!

Big question is, what will I do next time this job needs doing? Do you think I will ask hubby?

Ah, bending…I forgot

I was reading the forum the other day and I noticed something about bending and how we should all bend from the knees when we pick stuff up. Well, I just can’t do this – never have been able to and probably never will be able to – I simply don’t have the motor control function to be able to push up from the floor once my legs are bent. This obviously has nothing to do with the scoliosis, but everything to do with my spina bifida.

So, picture the scene – my surgeon fuses my spine down to L5 and leaves L5/S1 joint free – he tells me that it will be good for me to have at least one moveable joint but I am told not to overstress it in any way shape or form because it is already arthritic and worn. Making matters worse is that due to my rotation and stuff, he had to put a wedge of metal in between L4 and L5 (1.5” high on one side) which means that the rigidity of this places extra stress on that ole L5/S1 joint. Hmmm, no stress eh? What shall I do? Be good? Me? I think not!

I started after surgery with all good intentions and because of it had loads of problems putting on my socks and shoes but now all that has changed. It’s true I can put my left sock and shoe on by bending my foot into my lap but my right one just won’t bend in that direction (more effects of spina bifida I’m afraid making my right hip largely inflexible^*1) – so, what do I do - do I ask hubby or someone to put my sock and shoe on? ^*2 No, mostly I just bend at the waist until I can get to my foot. I stretch and stretch and I reach – now does this count as stressing my joint?

I dunno, but I do know that I’ve stretched it all so much that I can now touch my toes – I don’t really think I should be doing that now, do you?

^*1 Something along the lines of it only bending in one useful direction .... I used to however dislocate it easily enough if I tried to push it any other way (though as I'm sure you'll understand when I say I haven't tried for a while). In fact, as a teenager (and possibly when a trifle drunk so my memory is a little hazy) I think I offered to do this in an attempt to amuse people.....!
^*2 In fact I do ask this if I am having a bad morning - sometimes pride will only make up for so much pain and effort.

I am a bad blog mama...

I admit it - I am a very bad blog mama who has not done any recent updates. It's true, I haven't and why? Well, life has just been a bit busy and I forgot, Okay? Yep, I admit it, I forgot......

So, I have made another new Year's Resolution (did you ever wonder that every day is the start of a new year?) - I will not leave you hanging on for weeks at a time - what do you mean, you don't hang on my every word...oh gosh, darn ...(etc etc)

Anyway, I will try and post something a little more meaningful in the wondering line over the next few days...and if I can't do that, I'll see if I can come up with something warped!

Actually, it was kind of odd today, since I subscribe to my own RSS feed (yeah I know that's vain) and it told me that I had two new posts - uh? How come? It was wrong though - it was just two old posts and I suppose RSS is now clever enough to know that I only skimmed them, and didn't read them at all........

This touched me...

This was posted on one of the forums and I really wanted to quote it – it’s just that I have felt like this so often, that I though it was something really worth sharing…

"I know other people have told me it takes a year or 18 months to feel normal again.

BUT -- what I suspect is, the tough part for me is realizing that I will probably need to make peace with some PERMANENT changes in how I live my life -- for instance, I don't see what I will ever again be charging around the back yard with a wheelbarrow full of mulch, or shoveling snow off the driveway. Of course, I could no longer do that in the last couple of years before my surgery anyway.

On the OTHER hand -- (are you getting whiplash following this?) -- the reality is, I would have become increasingly disabled had I NOT had the surgery. A fused spine is not natural, and it is limiting. But so is severe scoliosis. The hardest part about this condition, for me, is ACCEPTING the fact that EITHER WAY, with or without a fused spine, my back will never be "normal.""

Thanks girl for expressing this so well…I owe you.

OMG 2 years today!

Well, this is it – I reached a whole two years since my surgery for my scoliosis – so what has changed for me?

Firstly, I no longer check in on the scoliosis forums (http://www.scoliosis-support.org/ and http://www.scoliosis.org/forum/) every day – I still try to do so every week, as I hope that maybe I can help someone going through what I have been through. Experience is a wonderful thing and I cannot thank enough the people who had been there and done that (and helped me by using their experience) but also those people like Ly & Kat who went through it all with me (Kat just one day away). All these people all over the world helped me get through something that seemed very overwhelming at the time and I really hope that I can return the favour.

Now I am so far post op, you might wonder whether or not my scoliosis still has any impact on my life, but I have to say that yes, it does. Firstly (and this is something that my physio reminded me of the other day) I still have two curves of over 30 degrees. This is the kind of curvature that many people start asking questions about surgery and whether to do it or not due to the impact on their lives and so, despite externally looking straight as a die, I still have all that going on inside and it's the kind of thing that would make a difference to anyone’s life. The external straightness though is wonderful – having gone from such a pronounced list to one side with a big rotation to barely rotated and with my head firmly over my middle, I am delighted. I cannot believe the work that my surgeon did to get me like this – I had a stiff, middle aged, scoliotic spine with an old spina bifida repair (with associated nerve complications) and a cracked vertebrae and he had all that to work around. So, maybe I don’t have as great a correction as some of the pictures you see, but I think he worked wonders. For me it means I am firmly held (screwed and rodded) in a position that my internal organs are no longer under threat and that’s the way it will stay until I am (hopefully) a very old lady!

So, pleased with correction? Check! What else? Hmm, I guess I should tackle the pain issue as that is the main reason for surgery for many people. Now, you have to remember that with all the above going on in my back my surgeon told me that he was not operating on me to help with my pain. If I got pain relief it would be a bonus, but I had a 75 degree lumbar curve that was progressing at more than 5 degrees per year. That was his main concern. Well, the pain thing is hard to explain – the pain I had before surgery has pretty much gone – but, to be replaced by something different. I used to have a real grinding constant pain in my lower back and lived with it 24/7. That pain, I still get, but it comes and goes infrequently. I have some times when I am pretty much pain free, although not many. Mostly the pain I get is much more brutal than it used to be, left centre back, although it can be higher or lower (by brutal I mean it will wake me from sleep or force me to sit or lie down). So, yes, in that way the pain is worse, but the flip side is that I take painkillers for it and it responds well to the pills. They are quite strong (stronger than I used to take) but they work and so I suppose the pain is better in a funny kind of way.

Three other quick issues on pain – firstly, I used to get a lot of muscle spasm in the areas compressed by my spine. In the past I have had treatment on this but it would always go straight back to being really tight. With my reduced curves, this is much better and treatment (massage) seems to be reducing it further as any loosening off that the masseur does doesn’t immediately flip back into spasm. Highly recommended!
Secondly the nerve pain – most of you know I came out of hospital with a hypersensitive patch on my leg and some areas of numbness. The nerve pain is much better and although I am still taking Gabapentin, I am now down to 600mg per day (from 2400). I am thinking of trying to drop it again – I hope in time that the nerves will settle down completely and I can stop with the orange pills, but until then I shall settle for a steady improvement.
Thirdly (and this is an issue that I know lots of post surgery people get) the pain from the incision (and especially where the ribs came from) is an issue in a way. If I do too much, that side will still swell slightly and complain. The answer really is not to do too much but hey, this is me we’re talking about! Ah yes, and another related thing – I still have no feeling at all in my stomach below my rib cage on the left hand side. It’s very weird – especially if someone strokes your tummy!

Wow, this is a long post, isn’t it? I don’t know what else to cover really – my walking is coming on (at least I can get further) although the sticks are a constant – maybe that’s why I can get further? Of course, the bonus with them is that they do stop me falling over as I still have rubbish balance. What else? Ah yes, I get very stiff at night – I always used to but through muscle spasm - this feels different from that, but still I need my bed leaver in the mornings for sure!

Apart from all of that I am fit, healthy and happy. I think I feel far fitter than I ever would have done without the surgery – I know that it has changed my life in many ways. I think too that I may just be a little more sensible but I think everyone else thinks I’m just as stubborn in my own way.

Scoliosis surgery for me felt like a gamble on my future. “Better the devil you know” I used to think, but there comes a point when the odds are stacked against you if you decide to do nothing. Maybe my progression would have suddenly stopped (and then waited like a time bomb inside me) – who knows? But anyway, I made the decision, took the plunge and gambled on the surgery. - I think it paid off, don’t you?

I shall post another update next time I see my surgeon (scheduled for February, but with the NHS, it’ll probably be July) and then another update in about 6 months time. Check back soon!

Blooming call centres...!

I know I told you that we bought a new car – which was funny in itself – you see we live quite close to a big river and the only bridge is about 20 minutes away - I know, that’s not funny but let me get to it…So, I went onto Autotrader (is that advertising?) and started looking through all cars within a 40 mile radius trying to find the right one at the right price. There, it said – we have the perfect car for you – 36 miles away! Wonderful I thought – phoned the garage and made an appointment to view the car then programmed the garage postcode into the sat nav. Tim (that’s my Tom-tom’s^*1… name) said you will reach your destination in 1.5 hours! 1.5 hours I squeaked – how come? 76 miles he said (actually he doesn’t actually talk to me like that, I just squeaked a bit when I looked at the little map thingie) – turns out that yes, the car was 36 miles away, but only as the crow flies – I after all, not having an amphibious car, have to make an inconvenient detour over the bridge!

Anyway, long story short (if I can!) – I went down, looked at the car, arranged to buy it and then to pick it up a week later (time to transfer funds into the bank, garage to MOT it etc). One week later I called the bank – got through to a call centre, punched in lots of numbers including 2 security codes at appropriate points and finally got to talk to a person:

Me: “I shall be using a debit card too buy a car tomorrow”
Somewhere in New Delhi: “Oh, fine but that might trigger a security alert because of the sum of money involved”
Me: “Um, that’s why I’m calling, so that you can make sure that doesn’t happen”
Somewhere in New Delhi: “But security is very important – you wouldn’t want someone stealing your card and making a big purchase, would you?”
Me: “Um, no, but then I wouldn’t really expect them to steal my card, and having had to torture me to find out my security codes, then call you up and tell you in advance that they were going to steal money from my account…!”
Somewhere in New Delhi: “I see your point, but there is nothing we can do – the purchase may or may not go through depending on security”

…at this point I am fairly exasperated – especially since I can see myself driving the 36, sorry 76 miles to pick up the car and the payment being refused. So, I ask what I can do (politely of course) if payment is refused.

Somewhere in New Delhi: “I can give you this 0900 phone number which we will charge you at enormous expense per minute (I am putting words in her mouth here but it was a premium rate number) in case it is refused”
Me: “and what will they do?”
Somewhere in New Delhi: “Oh, they will just ask you for your security codes that you had to give to get to me and since that verifies who you are you can then tell them that you are using your debit card to buy a car”

Click……...................................

Oh, yes, and in case you are wondering – I did not trigger a security alert despite the fact that I spent £2500 on a debit card only authorised for £300 per day. This banking stuff confuses me….

^*1In for a penny n for a pound – if I’m going to advertise I may as well do it twice in one blog entry!

I know, I know, it’s been ages…..

I know it’s been ages since I updated my blog. One way or another I just seem to have had too much on my plate and TBH I’ve been feeling a bit down.

On other stuff, life is the same old same old with a few exceptions as we don’t have the same old car. Actually, that’s not true as my car (which at 25 years old this year is definitely old) is sitting outside the house waiting for me to jump in and rev it up down the road. I love my car….did I ever tell you that? Anyway, we decided to trade hubby’s car in – it was something to do with the fact that the last time it went in for a service the mechanic said:
“If I’d have found what I found before I did the service, I wouldn’t have bothered. My advice is to get well out of it and buy a new car!”…

…and so we did…

…well, of course it’s not new exactly (what are we made of money?) but it’s very nice and very, very, very (can I say that again?) comfy. At 6 years old and with 61,000 on the clock we thought it was quite good value and so we bought it. It wasn’t until we got it home and were looking through the service book that we noticed something under the ‘Optional Extras’ section and so peered closely at the handwriting – “Engine” it said, fitted at 49,000 miles. Ummm, good value turns into great value, when your engine has only done 12,000 miles - which is nothing for a Toyota. Even better though was the fact that I wondered what it was doing in that section of the book – I wouldn’t really have thought that an engine was exactly an optional extra in a car, would you?

How do you cope when you lose one of your best friends?

So, just how do you do that?

Shortly after I had my surgery, one of my very best friends became ill – initially they thought she had gallstones but in the end it turned out to be much more than that and pancreatic cancer ended her life yesterday after a long struggle to keep it at bay.

She was one of those special friends who touch your life in the way that few people do. I think sometimes that the relationships that women have with other women are among the most intense that you have- from the ‘best friends’ you make in school to the most fraught mother daughter relationship. For myself, I didn’t really have much in the way of friends though my school days – there was one person who, like me, was bullied and so we just kind of stuck together, but apart from that, it wasn’t until I got into adulthood that I discovered the joys of having best friends who are women. There are conversations you have and things that you share with other women that you wouldn’t sometimes even share with your husband. Girlie talk if you like, but you end up sharing wine, laughter and happy times and along the way all the tough times get shared too. Well, this friend was one of those …

…I remember when we met she was so tall and slim and pretty and better at stuff than me and I so wanted to hate her but I couldn’t because she was so nice. We got chatting and something just clicked between us – something that never happened to me before or since in quite the same way. We lived miles apart but single handedly kept the phone company going with long calls about…well, everything! We met up when we could, went on holiday together and did all of those things you only do with special people. She was also one of the most selfless people that I have ever known – always putting everyone else before herself and wanting to make them happy. It doesn’t matter how much I try and explain all of this, but we had a special bond and I will miss her dreadfully.

So goodbye sweetheart – you will always be in my heart.