8 Weeks Post Op and Back in the Swim!

 I have been so busy getting better that I have neglected my blog, I do apologise! Firstly, since my last post I have noticed a small improvement every single day.

At just over 6 weeks post op, I had my consultation with Mr D at Ross Hall, and also a live physio therapy session. (I have been having online physio sessions where my exercises were gradually ramped up.)

I saw the Physio, Jackie, first. She asked me to walk up and down. I was trying hard NOT to walk with what I now know is “Reciprocal Gait” (Not Popeye gait, as I had called it!) I still had a slight “sway”, but evidently this is normal as the muscles have become used to the reduced gap in hip joint. The exercises you have to do is meant to re-educate and strengthen these muscles, so it is very important to keep doing them.

I am no longer walking with crutches, but still use 2 walking sticks for longer walks. 

The physio was pleased with my progress, and gave me a few new exercises to keep working on. These involve the use of an exercise band tied into a loop for abduction (lateral movement) and taking the leg backwards. I was also advised to try walking sideways with the band around my thighs. In addition I was to do “Bridge” exercises with the band around my thighs, and walk up and down steps leading with both legs. 

Mr D was also pleased with my progress. He checked my gait, and said that it would right itself if I kept doing my exercises. 

“Can I swim yet?” 

“Yes, swimming is great exercise, but avoid breast stroke as the ‘frog legs’ aren’t advisable yet. It’s still early days and you are still at risk of the hip dislocating with extreme movements.I would wait until at least 12 weeks.”

“And yoga?’

“Same thing - twisting and forcing your leg into extreme angles is not advisable yet. There is still quite a lot of healing and strengthening going on.”

“What about bending? I’ve been using ‘golfer’s lunges’ to pick stuff up off the floor”

I demonstrated my golfer’s lunge - leaning forward over the good leg and lifting the back leg up behind me. 

“Yes, but just be careful your back leg doesn’t cross your midline when you do that.”

At this point he got down on one knee, effortlessly. “This is better than bending’

I did marvel that his knees didn’t sound like a goat chewing a tin can the way mine do, before ‘taking the knee’ myself, and then frantically grabbing at a chair to hoist myself back up. 

“I need to work on that” I said.

“Yes. Well, you might be thinking that you are walking ok now, and are pretty active, so maybe you don’t need to do your physio. But you really must. It will help your muscles switch on again and strengthen the soft tissues that have become weak. That’s my little pep talk over.”

“I will be doing the exercises on both legs. Much as I’m grateful for all you have done, I really don’t want to come back for my other hip.”

“I don’t need to see you again, you’ve done very well, and will continue to improve. But if you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to get in touch. It is no trouble at all.”

I thanked him for everything and left. Walked tall and straight to the lift and out of the hospital to the car.

Cold water therapy

In preparation for my return to the sea, I had been turning the shower to cold every morning. I had worried a bit about getting in and out of the sea, but now I had the all clear; so the weekend after my appointment, I returned to the beach for my first swim in months. I took a stick to help me negotiate the rocks. I was greeted by my mermaid friends, who had been swimming all through the winter. 

It was so good to be back. Gingerly, I walked into the water. I don’t dive in, I gradually immerse myself until my elbows are submerged, controlling my breathing to prevent the ‘gasp reflex.’ Entering water that is around 11 degrees can make you become quite religious!

“Oh My God that’s FREEZING.”

“Jesus that’s cold”

But it was up to my neck now and I was swimming sedately using my hybrid stroke of breaststroke arms and front crawl feet. I swam and chatted half way along the bay and then back again. As I was not acclimatised I didn’t stay in too long. My mermaid friends were very attentive, and one of them offered an arm to lean on as we walked out of the water and up the beach. Huge thanks to Rhona for taking the lovely pictures of me back in the swim! 

The operation site had been quite hard to touch, and a bit lumpy and hot. This is quite normal, and it can take up to a year to return to normal. The cold water felt so good on it, soothing and cooling it down.

Cold water therapy has so many health benefits, but for me the anti-inflammatory properties during my swims are the most noticeable. I also feel ready to face the rest of the day, and really miss it when I don’t go. You do get a natural ‘high’, plus the post swim coffee and chat is a great way of putting the world to rights before breakfast. 

So, 8 weeks post op and here’s what I’ve noticed.

• Arthritis pain is gone
• There is still some stiffness if I sit for too long
• Walking up and down stairs is much easier, but still needs a bit of effort.
• I’m sleeping well, but not on my operated side yet.
• I’m driving, and have been since 6 weeks
• I can put my shoes and socks on, but it’s still a bit of an effort to tie shoelaces
• The most I have walked in a day is 7,500 steps but I intend to push that to 10,000 in the next week 
• I can walk up the hill behind my house, which is pretty steep and takes about 20 minutes
• I am no longer taking any pain killers
• I actually enjoy doing my exercises, and will be starting my Pilates classes this week
• I have been swimming for almost 2 weeks now and I love it because it eases the inflammation 
• I can open my leg to the side and drop my knee out with almost the same range of movement as my good leg.

Finally, I am delighted with my lovely new ceramic hip and hope it gives me many years of service.

If you are waiting for surgery and at all worried all I can say is this; you have lived with pain, limited mobility and limits on your lifestyle for some considerable time now. In the 8 short weeks since my operation I have regained so much of the old me. I have probably done a bit more gardening than I should but my body tells me when to stop and I do listen. I am currently sitting in easy pose with both knees dropping out to the side. I haven’t been able to sit like this for about 6 years!

So don’t put it off any longer, get your name on the list and get yourself as fit as you can be before you go in to hospital. Thank you for reading my blog and good luck 😉 xx

And finally, here’s a lovely poem sent to me by my yoga teacher friend, Pat Irving. 

Self-Observation Without Judgment

by Danna Faulds

Release the harsh and pointed inner
voice. it's just a throwback to the past,
and holds no truth about this moment.

Let go of self-judgment, the old,
learned ways of beating yourself up
for each imagined inadequacy.

Allow the dialogue within the mind
to grow friendlier, and quiet. Shift
out of inner criticism and life
suddenly looks very different.

i can say this only because I make
the choice a hundred times a day to release the voice that refuses to
acknowledge the real me.

What's needed here isn't more prodding toward perfection, but
intimacy - seeing clearly, and
embracing what I see.

Love, not judgment, sows the
seeds of tranquility and change.

2 Weeks post op, Aromatherapy massage, and a couple of warnings!

 Over the days 8 - 14 I felt increasingly more comfortable. I managed to walk up to my greenhouse, (about 100 metres from the house) and perched on a stool for a while, I thinned out and potted on a few of my seedlings in readiness for planting out in the warmer days to come.

Thankfully we were having a dry spell, and the sun was warm on my face. My plants were romping away, but it was too early to put them outside. I was SWELTERING in the greenhouse. But I had an idea. If I could get a few of my trays closer to the house, the hosepipe handy and a comfy chair, I could sit in the sunshine and pot on a few trays into larger pots, whilst soaking up the sun. So Roy carried my bits and pieces down to the patio, and I had everything I needed at arm’s length. 

‘This is good’ I thought. The sun streamed down, warming my skin. The birds were singing and raiding the feeders. I had visions of tomatoes and cucumbers, courgettes and beetroot later on in the season, and lots of lovely flowers in my borders. 

BUT, I had forgotten that sitting upright with your leg dangling is NOT a good idea. Remember the toes above nose? I did have my foot on a plant pot, but that wasn’t good enough. 

I started to feel increasingly uncomfortable. My foot was hot and itchy, and felt tight in my shoe. So with Roy’s help; (no bending yet remember) my sock and shoe were removed.

My right foot and ankle were TWICE the size of my left foot. 

“Jesus! Roy look at my foot!”

I sent a picture via What’sApp to my bestie, Chris, a very experienced nurse. 

“My foot and ankle have swelled up. Eek!”

“Yes take it easy!”

“I was just pottering in the garden, pricking seedlings out and moving my strawberry plants”

‘Faaar too much!! What are you thinking? X’ She chided.

‘Just sitting in the sunshine, I was sitting most of the time at the table’

‘With your leg hanging down and not moving your calf muscle, impeding venous return to your heart causing swelling in a leg that’s already swollen and bruised!!’

Suitably admonished, I retreated to the bedroom and put my legs on a pile of pillows for 45 minutes. I was so worried about blood clots that I rang the hospital for reassurance. I was doing the right thing elevating my leg, and swelling is to be expected if the leg is not elevated. Phew! I knew Chris was right, and I make sure now that if I’m sitting my leg is elevated and I don’t sit for long periods. 

Massage

https://www.physio.co.uk/treatments/massage/when-can-massage-help/post-surgery.php

I am a huge fan of massage. It helps with lymphatic drainage, boosts blood flow and healing. It also helps with the pain and scarring. I trained years ago as a masseuse and aromatherapist, and decided that as soon as I could, I would massage my leg and hip. I started gently massaging my leg, avoiding the wound as it was not yet healed.

I created a massage lotion with aromatherapy essential oils and a fragrance free, mineral oil free lotion. I buy big bottles of this from Neal’s Yard, so I can create my own lotions. You could also use grape seed or almond oil, but I prefer a lotion so I don’t have an oily residue on my skin. 

I added peppermint oil, which is cooling and helps with the pain, it is also helpful in reducing inflammation. Lavender oil which is anti-viral, anti-septic and relaxing, it also helps to reduce swelling. Frankincense to help regenerate tissue is great on wounds. (Frankincense is used in some VERY expensive face creams) and Patchouli oil because it is my favourite and is another antiseptic. 

CAUTION - Aromatherapy oils are NOT harmless. There are contraindications so always check with a professional before creating your own potions and lotions. ALSO Arnica is sometimes advocated for bruising, BUT be careful because if you are taking anti-blood clotting medication post-op, it’s best to avoid it. 

ACUPRESSURE

The physio therapist at Ross Hall suggested a couple of simple acupressure points for self-massage. These include: 

• Gentle but firm massage around the outside of the kneecap
• 3 finger widths ABOVE the kneecap, find the sweet spot where it is painful and press gently
• 2 finger widths on the inside of the kneecap - again gentle but firm pressure can help the pain. 

By the end of week 2 I was feeling much better, and with the help of a couple of suction handles in the shower, could now stand whilst washing, and get myself dried and dressed without too much help from Roy (I still need help putting on my socks).

7 Days post op “Steak and Guinness”

 Since arriving home on Thursday, which was op day plus 4, I have managed to establish a “healing”routine. 

My day starts with me taking the first 2 co-codamol, then Roy brings me a coffee and toast in bed. I elevate my legs (Toes higher than nose) and catch up with my reading for half an hour or so. Eventually I do my “Home Gym exercises” in the bed. 

Roy puts the slidy mat, hand weights, rolled up towel and my soft Pilates ball next to me, and I do the prescribed exercises, each day brings a little more movement and a little less pain. It’s advisable in the early days to take your pain killers about 30 minutes prior to the exercises, just so you can get that little bit more movement that isn’t hindered by the pain.

I decided early on that my exercises should incorporate BOTH hips. Otherwise I’d be putting tremendous pressure on my left hip. I had some exercises that Cameron Angus had given me prior to the op, so I carried on with those. 

I also use my hand weights, legs in “Semi supine” position to do some lateral raises, bicep curls and shoulder raises. Your upper body strength is important while you are supporting yourself on crutches. 

I usually have some music on while I’m doing these. So even though it’s not quite the gym, I can try and recreate the atmosphere.

Roy still has to supervise me in the shower. I’m not steady or confident enough to stand, so I sit on the stool bought specially for the purpose. 

I have to tick him off for opening the bathroom window to let the steam out while I’m sitting shivering waiting for him to hand me my clothes and put my socks on.

 “For Goodness Sake Man! My goosebumps have goosebumps”

‘But it’s steaming up - “

“Yeah, and I’m sat here, starkers and soaking wet”

He learned eventually. 🙄

I can’t reach my lower legs or feet, so he has to dry those and put my knickers, trousers and socks on. Bad foot first. He does have a tendency to lose concentration and wander off to another part of the house while I’m freezing my tits off though! 

By now my digestive “situation” has settled down to normal. Well, relatively. My usual breakfast consists of porridge with all kinds of added extras, made with oat milk. (I neither like nor can digest cow’s milk)

Here’s my special porridge recipe:

1 cup organic porridge

1 tsp Chia seeds

1 tsp Goji Berries

1 Tabsp Flaxseed

1 Tsp cocoa nibs

Oat milk

Topping:

Berries (blue berries, raspberries)

Kiwi fruit, mango, whatever you fancy

Kefir (for your gut health)

Organic runny honey

Walnuts

You can either make it up and leave it overnight, or cook it with the oat milk and put your toppings on.

It’s packed full of yummy good stuff and I have it most mornings with a big glass of fresh Orange juice. 

We have Visitors

After lunch on day 7 we had visitors. Our surgery often have final year medical students with them on placement, so this year’s placement accompanied Malcolm, the GP as he called in to check how I was doing.

I answered the door, as Roy had to corral the dogs. It was quite a surprise, as I hadn’t experienced this level of personal care in England.  GPs in England hadn’t made house calls for a long time, in my experience. 

“You’re walking well” Observed Malcolm “We just wanted to see how you were getting on after your op.”

Roy joined us in the lounge and we had a chat about levels of pain, amount of exercise etc. I had taken a picture of my scar (I know, Sad!) so showed that to Malcolm too. He commented on how neat it looked. If you’re squeamish, look away now! 

My knee was REALLY sore and badly bruised post op. I asked Malcolm why that might be?

“Well, Orthopaedic surgeons are a bit like mechanics, with all their hammers and chisels, saws and drills. The surgery you had would have been brutal, and the way you are manipulated during the operation will cause bruising in other places. It will heal with time.”

I winced. I remember reading about how they have to dislocate your hip to carry out the operation. They probably used my knee as a ‘jack’.

“You’re looking awfully pale, do you know how much blood you lost?”

 “No’

He checked my lower eyelids and sat down. “I think we should get a blood test just to see if you’re anaemic.’

“Well now you mention it, I’m very tired and very cold.”

“Yes, let’s get you checked out, in the meantime, up your intake of iron rich foods, red meat, green leafy veg, that sort of thing”

“Is dark chocolate ok? That’s got iron in it?”

“I think you’d be better off with steak.”

Thing is, I hadn’t eaten steak for years, but I kind of wanted to now. They say your body tells you what it needs. So Roy had to add ‘Best steak’ to his shopping list. And Guinness! 

One of the things that I couldn’t understand was how bloody cold I was! When I got into bed, I was like ICE. My feet, body, head, everything felt chilled to the bone. In addition, I would get to a point in the afternoon where I would just crash and burn, and HAD to go to bed with as many blankets and throws as I could bear to stop me feeling like I’d just stepped out of a freezer. 

Evidently this tiredness is normal. Most of your energy in these early days goes into the healing process. You have had MAJOR surgery. It takes time to heal. A long time. 

The Long And Winding Road to Recovery

 Day 4 in Hospital. 

Breakfast was 2 poached eggs on toast, which would have remained intact if Martina Navratilova had slammed them over the net at Wimbledon. I ate the fruit. I still hadn’t ‘moved my bowels’, and I don’t think those eggs would have helped. 

I had been given Senna tablets, and some disgusting syrup that was so full of sugar I could feel the cavities forming in my teeth. I had drunk loads of water and orange juice and tried to move around as much as possible. There had been a couple of ‘false alarms’; which brought to mind that very rude puerile ditty which starts: ‘Here I sit broken hearted...’

I was well enough to go home this morning, and I didn’t want to endure that long journey down the Kintyre peninsula with a time bomb ticking away in my colon! It’s not like there are many places to stop en-route. But around 10am, a miracle occurred, and I found myself singing the “Hallelujah” chorus. What a relief!

The nurse came in to discuss my discharge.

“I’ve had a poo!” I beamed.

She laughed “I bet you never thought you’d be excited about that!”

“I sang Hallelujah in the bathroom” I exclaimed proudly.

She giggled, shoulders shaking as she filled in the form. “Once you’re ready and your lift arrives, you’ll be taken downstairs in a wheelchair, pick up your drugs from the pharmacy and then shown how to get in and out of the car. Make sure you stop regularly on your way home, and you should be ok.”

“Thank you for everything, everyone has been amazing.” 

“You’re welcome”. 

Roy had set off, and periodically I received little text messages from him. ‘At Ardrisaig’, ‘At the Rest and Be thankful’ ‘Will be there for 12.30’ I couldn’t wait to see him. I did feel a lot better.

I’d had my shower, washed my hair and put some makeup on. Never had I gone so long without makeup. I don’t even hang the washing out without lipstick normally!

Mr D popped in to say goodbye:

“You look 100% better today.’

“Thank you, I do feel much better. Looking forward to my own bed.”

“You will heal much better once you are home. But you are going to have to work hard. You have a lovely new hip now, and you will need to do your exercises religiously and build up your walking. I’ll see you again in 6 weeks. Don’t forget to stop every 45 minutes on the way home, that way you won’t stiffen up.”

“Thank you very much for everything.” I said: “I have been very well looked after, everyone is brilliant here.”

“Thank you, I like to think we have a good team. Safe journey - and don’t forget, work hard”

He waved as he left. Ordinarily I suppose we should have shaken hands, but Covid had put a stop to all that. 

We were lucky to have a glorious day for our journey. We stopped at our usual “Pit stops”. I was grateful that Roy had packed a picnic and sat at a picnic table in the sunshine while he walked our 2 Fox Terriers. 

Life was good. I couldn’t wait to start going for long walks again. The sun warmed my skin, and the codeine stopped my hip from grumbling.

A few hours later we were home. Roy had carried the high backed wing chair into the lounge and put a table and footstool nearby for me. Everywhere was clean and tidy. It was so good to be home. 

I slept incredibly well, and the following morning started my “Bed gym” routine.

I had my rolled up towel, my slidy mat, my Pilates ball and my stretch band. I realised that my “good” hip would need strengthened as well as my right hip, so although I did the gentle exercises on my new hip as I’d been told, I also did some stronger exercises on my other hip. In addition, I did some upper body work while I was lying down, based on some of the exercises I had been doing at my Pilates classes. 

It was slow going at first, especially the first few days, but each day I have achieved a small improvement. 

Getting in and out of the shower was tricky. I needed Roy’s assistance with everything at first. Right down to drying my lower legs, and putting my knickers, socks and shoes on. I have a stool (mentioned earlier) that I sat on to clean my teeth. I then stood using my crutches, and Roy would put the stool in the shower for me to sit on. He had installed suction hand grips in the shower, (just for balance!) but for the first few days I sat down on the stool. 

You will need to gently teach your carer (partner, husband, whatever) how to help you get washed and dressed. 

Things to remember:

• You must not “cross” the central line of your body by twisting.
• Your legs MUST be kept at hip width and parallel 
• The angle between your hip and thigh must be kept at greater than 90 degrees, and your hips must be higher than your knees.
• You cannot pick anything up off the floor. Get a grabber and a megaphone just in case your carer is out of earshot and you have dropped something important (like your phone or the gin bottle).
• You must not reach further than your knees 
• Make sure when you are sitting down or moving to stand that you hold onto a solid immovable object.
• Hold your crutches together in an H shape in one hand, and your other hand holds the chair or the bed.
• Armpit Danger: It’s important that you don’t let your armpits rest on the crutches, even when you’re resting. Allowing your weight to rest on your armpits can cause serious damage to the nerves and muscles under your arms.
• Here’s a useful link to using crutches: 

https://www.verywellhealth.com/how-to-use-crutches-2549326

• Elf and safety! - Remove ALL trip hazards. Including loose mats and anything at all that could potentially trip you up.
• In the bathroom, when stepping in and out of the shower, ensure there is no water on the floor. A sliding crutch on a wet floor could spell a rapid return to hospital!
• Have high seats or stools in strategic places to prevent you from standing too long. 
• DO AS YOU ARE TOLD - your Dr and Physio know what they are talking about. 
• Have a Nana / Granda nap when you need to. You have had MAJOR surgery, you will feel absolutely wiped out. When you do, lie down and make sure your feet and legs are supported and higher than your heart.
• Don’t sit too long in one place. Your ankles will swell up. Alarmingly so. 
• Have water in a bottle, and a hot drink in a flask if you are going to be on your own for a while. You won’t be able to carry a hot cup of coffee while using crutches.

My Body Lotion fan club, and The Good, The Bad and The Ugly!

 Before I go any further with this blog, I need to point out that I am NOT medically qualified, and anything I post here is based on my own personal experience. You should ALWAYS defer to a medical professional. 

Right - Day 3 in hospital was meant to be the day I went home. I woke early, and managed to get myself to the bathroom using a zimmer.  It’s not easy to lift your “bad” leg into bed, it’s a dead weight. So a valuable piece of advice that came from the lovely Owenna Orme, is to turn your crutch upside down and use that to lift your leg in. I used the bed railings to drag myself into position, and flopped back onto the pillows. 

The day shift sister came in to check my obs and give me some medication. I was still on the “Long Tec” (slow release morphine). I had been given “Short Tec” plus paracetamol and my reaction to all this morphine was nausea, dizziness and constipation. I asked for a different painkiller, (paracetamol is surprisingly good on an empty stomach,) I can’t take NSAIDS or aspirin, which limited the choices available. Pain management is VERY important. I can’t stress this enough, all the health professionals will tell you to keep on top of the pain. This is so you can move sooner and get the muscles working again. 

“On a scale of 0 to 3, where is the pain today?”

I hadn’t had any medication since late the previous night, so it was pretty high.

“It’s a 2. But I’m feeling awful on the morphine.”

“I’ll speak to the Dr and see if we can get a different medication for you. I don’t think you will be able to go home today. Not by the look of you. I’ll see what Phil says though.”

Did I look that bad? I wasn’t going to argue. I did miss my own bed, and my lovely husband and dogs, but I was also aware that I didn’t think I’d be able to manage that long journey in so much discomfort. 

“I haven’t been to the loo yet - It’s quite uncomfortable”

“I’ll get you something for that too. Do you fancy a shower?’

“Yes please, and thank you.”

Breakfast arrived. And coffee! I’m a coffee addict, and had ordered porridge and fruit from the menu. At home, my husband brings me a freshly brewed coffee in bed every day. It’s my favourite cup of the day. 

2 spoons of porridge, and a little fresh fruit. I couldn’t drink the coffee. It just tasted wrong. I put it down to the drugs. My tummy felt VERY uncomfortable. I was in pain  and was feeling a bit sorry for myself.

I rang Roy. He was his normal cheerful self. Until I told him I might not be coming home. I was aware that he would be preparing to leave shortly. 

“They know best, you know. It’s only another day, and it won’t be comfortable for you to travel. Don’t get me wrong, I miss you, but we need to be sensible here. The doggies are missing you. I’ll move some plants round the garden and get the house all ready for you.”

“Love you!” 

“You too” We hung up.

One of the young nursing support workers came in - “Do you want me to help you get a shower?”

“Yes please”

She was so chatty and pleasant, helping me to wash and dress. She loved my body lotion - I’m a bit of an aromatherapy freak and had mixed up a lotion containing rose oil, lavender and patchouli. (Neal’s Yard do a range of fragrance free lotions and oils that you can personalise! Just saying!) I felt much better. My painkillers had kicked in, I was fresh and clean and smelled lovely. It makes a huge difference to your morale to pamper yourself when you are ill. 

My next visitor was Phil the physio. “Ooh this is the most fragrant room on the ward. It smells gorgeous in here!” My body lotion had it’s own fan club! 

Today we were going to walk up and down the stairs. EEK!

First of all I demonstrated my ability to do (or not) the bed exercises. I still couldn’t do the leg abduction. Even with the slidy cloth. Ah well! A wheelchair was brought in and Phil plus another physio took me to the staircase. There were workmen on the landing. I was pleased I had my dressing gown on, although I wished I had worn a slightly longer nightie and knickers! 

I stood at the top of the stairs. Looking down felt like staring into the abyss. I must have gone pale again (or peely wally as they say in Scotland!)

“I’ll be in front of you every step. Don’t worry. Put your left hand on the stair rail and both feet on the edge of the step.” Phil reassured me.

Crutch down, bad leg down, then good leg. Ok. I got this. I felt momentarily dizzy and unsteady but by the time I got to the bottom I was ok. I knew that the criteria for going home was the ability to go up and down stairs. I was NOT going to botch this!

“Now, we have to go back up. This time, it’s the good, the bad, and the ugly. Your good leg first, then your bad leg, and then the crutch, that’s the ugly.”

I repeated this in my head as I climbed back up again: “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly” Ennio Morricone’s iconic theme tune bounced round my head. Still, I was relieved to be back in my wheelchair.

 Back in the ward, I took up residence in my chair by the window overlooking Ross Hall Park. I read my kindle; Rugh Hogan’s latest, ‘Madame Burova’, I love Ruth Hogan’s books, which lately I have alternated with Strike novels by Robert Galbraith and books about the natural world. 

At teatime, Mr D popped in. Tall and casual in an open necked blue shirt and smart jeans. Brown leather bag over his shoulder. All ready for home after a long day at the office, chopping people up and putting them back together again. And thank God for that!

“How are you feeling?” He asked, looking concerned.

“I’m a bit better, I managed the stairs today, although I’m struggling a bit with my pain killers.”

“We hung on to you today, because we didn’t think you were ready to go home. We’ll see how you are tomorrow, but there’s no rush. Take all the time you need.”

“I guess I’m a bit concerned about the journey.”

“Yes, understandably so. It’s a long way. The best advice I can give you is to take your time. Stop every 45 minutes and get out and walk around. We’ll give you pain relief just before you get into the car, and that should see you through the journey. You’re doing great. But you have had major surgery, you need to remember that!”

I was completely exhausted. I was in bed by 7pm. I messaged Roy to apologise for not calling him that night, but my leg was swollen to twice it’s normal size, I was bunged up and nauseous. 

Roy texted back. 

‘Lost Lilah again - found her sulking by the bed. Hopefully you will feel better in the morning. I will try to land at 12pm. Love you xxx  

But there was one more ordeal!

Injections!

Major surgery on lower limbs predisposes you to blood clots, especially as you are immobile. Mr D insists his patients wear “blow up” boots in bed. They pump up and squeeze your calf muscles all night. They are a bit noisy, but the alternative is much worse. Then, once you go home you have to inject yourself into your stomach with Heparin. Fun eh? 

So, you pinch an inch (not difficult in my case!) and hold the syringe at right angles. Plunge it in and then withdraw it. you are given a yellow ‘sharps’ box to drop your spent injections in. 

Ordinarily you would do this for 10 days at home and then switch to aspirin. I do a fabulous impression of Linda Blair from the Exorcist if I take aspirin, so I have to inject myself for 28 days instead. Guess I’m just lucky. 

Day 1 post op and the Angels with Invisible Wings

 Every hour, on the hour following my op, my obs were taken and recorded. Sometimes by Nursing support workers and sometimes by nurses. 

These people are Angels with invisible wings. They must walk miles on an average shift, but they are invariably cheerful; nothing is too much trouble to them. 

Through the night following my op, I was aware of how quiet the ward was. This was due, I think to one particular Nursing Sister. She had a soft Merseyside accent, unusual in Glasgow. When she came on night shift, and introduced herself, I mentioned that she didn’t have a Glaswegian accent.

“No, I’m from Liverpool”

“I thought so, so is my husband, which part?’

“Old Swan, your husband will know where that is. Where is your husband from?

“Tuebrook, he says they were posh because they had a garden.”

We both laughed at that - “My boyfriend’s thought I was posh because we had central heating and I had my own room.”

Her brown eyes danced above her mask. Throughout that first night, she helped me with pain relief, anti-sickness relief and getting in and out of bed to the commode. When I rang the buzzer she arrived swiftly and silently. Her soft voice encouraging and comforting me. I was delighted when she said she would be on the following night too. Before she left in the morning she popped in and asked how I was getting on.

“It was a rough night, but you definitely helped me through. Thank you.”

“You’ll feel much better today.” She smiled “I’ll see you tonight, take it easy”. 

I had about 3 spoons of porridge and some fruit for breakfast. I didn’t feel like eating much. I discovered later that the colon shuts down for 72 hours post op. (Which is why I hadn’t had a poo yet!) Coffee, normally my drug of choice, tasted too strong, so I left it and stuck with water. I still felt nauseous and a bit “waffy” as they say in Cumbria. 

I also desperately needed a wash. I wasn’t confident or strong enough to get to the shower, so I was washed in situ and was able to clean my teeth. My mouth had felt like the inside of a dead bear’s bum! 

As you are not supposed to have an angle at the hip of less than 90 degrees, my toothbrush, toothpaste and a beaker of water were brought to me in bed. I was able to clean my teeth and then rinse without leaning forward. 10 days post op, I am still using this method. (Although I do sit at the bathroom sink now!)

Clean and fresh, with new bedding and my own nightie on, I was ready for my day. A sharp “ratatat” on the door, and in walked Mr D. 

“How are you this morning?”

“A bit nauseous and sore, but better than yesterday, thank you.”

He beamed “Great, your hip was in a bad way, the cartilage was worn right down, there was a lot of fluid in the joint, and there was new bone growth appearing, it had deteriorated quite a bit since your X-ray. But you have a shiny new hip now, but you are going to have to work hard to protect it. You will feel like you’ve been kicked by a horse for a few days yet, but you must try and move as much as you can. We will X-Ray your new hip today, just to see if the alignment is correct. You’ll also start with some physio today.”

What he told me vindicated my own view of my hip. It had felt increasingly worse since the X-Ray in July.

“Thank you, it did feel more than just ‘moderate’ arthritis.”

“Won’t be long before all the pain goes, and you can get your life back. Right, I’d better go, I’ll see you later” He gave me a little wave as he left.

Physio

I’ve come to realise physio is, after the op, the single most important thing you can do. It’s hard, and you have to push through the pain sometimes, but it is VITAL, before and after your surgery. I had been following a regime of hip exercises, but something I should have spent a bit of time on was my upper body strength. When I had my foot surgery, the surgeon said that he wished all patients would do upper body exercises so that walking with crutches wasn’t so difficult. SO, if you have surgery looming, get working on your upper body strength NOW!

Sadly, my continuing nausea meant I struggled with the physio at first. Before you are allowed home, you need to be able to walk up and down stairs. I could barely walk from my bed to the bathroom with a Zimmer frame, but we would try.

2 Physiotherapists and a nursing support worker came in to help me with my first physio session. My first hurdle was to perch on the edge of the bed. As soon as I sat up and my feet dangled over the edge, I felt VERY dizzy and nauseous. 

“Oh my goodness, you’ve gone very pale, you’re as white as that sheet!” Exclaimed Phil, the physiotherapist.

I laughed, “I do feel a bit waffy!”

“Waffy? What’s that?”

“Sorry, Cumbrian word for ‘bring the smelling salts’. My Mum used to say to me, ‘You look pale, do you feel pale?”

“Haha, that’s funny, I should write these expressions down.” Said Phil.

I persevered and managed, eventually, to stand up and balance on the crutches. My knees felt like they were about to buckle under me, but Phil and the other young physio were there to catch me. 

“Crutches forward, then bad leg, then good leg.”

Several faltering steps later I was facing the door of my room, just as a trolley pushed by 2 cheery porters appeared. 

“Room 227?”

“Yes” Said Phil.

“We have to take the young lady to X Ray.” 

Phil rushed off up the corridor and returned with a wheelchair. I was manoeuvred into place and wheeled the rest of the way to the trolley, where I was hoisted up and driven off to the X ray department. 

When I returned, Phil came back in to my room. “Do you think you could do some bed exercises?’

“Yes, I can try”

Bed exercises consisted of the following :

1. Lying on your back and sliding your foot towards your torso x 10. I could do it, but only a bit
2. Leg is flat, and you push the back of your knee into the bed. Easy, I could do that too.
3. A folded towel is placed under the knee, and you lift your lower leg up and down. I could do that. so far so good.
4. Legs straight and move the bad leg out to the side x 10. Nope. Phil put a piece of slidy fabric under my heel - “Try again” Nope - Not even a centimetre. 

“Don’t worry, it will come with time, I’ll pop back later and we can look at some standing exercises, and have another go.”

What a busy day I was having. I was quite exhausted, and settled down to read my kindle. It was a good job I had my iPad on it’s stand, because I dozed off. 

I could now get to the loo on my own, using the Zimmer frame. Evidently, 20 years or so ago, a hip replacement meant you had to stay in bed for 2 weeks, lying on your back with a pillow between your knees. How times have changed!

I was watching some inane game show on TV when Mr D popped in on his way home, what long hours he must work, I mused. 

“Hi Judith, just to let you know I’ve reviewed your X-Ray and it’s looking good. Perfect in fact.’

“That’s great, thank you.” I was genuinely delighted. 

“Now get some rest and we will see how you get on tomorrow. You might be able to go home, but it’s a long car journey and there’s no problem if we need to keep you a bit longer.”

His prophecy proved to be correct. 

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Roy had been busy. He had “lost’ Lilah, one of our fox terriers, and finally found her upstairs in my studio, sitting next to my chair. She sometimes comes and sits up there with me when I’m working. Bless her. 💕

Day 0 - Here we go: Operation day - DISCLAIMER - Not everyone will react to the drugs the way I did!

 I woke early on the day designated for my op. I had stayed in hospital the previous night; saving myself and Roy a 3.5 hour trip at 4am from Kintyre.

He had carried my bag to the door of the hospital, gave me a huge hug and a kiss then stood watching as I turned and walked in on my own. I was anxious, more for him driving home alone than for myself.  I made him promise to let me know when he was at our usual “pit stops’, so I could imagine his progress. I looked over my shoulder as I reached the reception desk - he was still there. He gave me a wave and a lovely smile and disappeared from view as the receptionist asked me my name. I felt very emotional, being there, facing this alone.

I needn’t have worried. Well not too much, the staff were fantastic!

I had starved from midnight the night before, as I cleaned my teeth in the en-suite bathroom, I sipped a tiny drop of water off my toothbrush. 

Showered, with none of my usual fripperies: no body lotion, jewellery, make-up, Arghh! I did contemplate drawing my eyebrows in, I mean, who would know? My eyebrows had been plucked to non-existence in 1976 and have never really recovered. I donned my sexy backless hospital gown and sat on the bed and read my kindle book. 

Nurses bustled in and out, my blood pressure was sky high - betraying the raging anxiety beneath my calm exterior. Then Mr D arrived. He put me at my ease, jocular and reassuring. 

“You will be sore for a few days, rather like you had been kicked by a horse. There will be lots of bruising, but that will fade and in a week’s time you will be well on the way to enjoying your nice new hip. Now, I need to mark the leg” He pulled a felt pen from his pocket - “Your right leg, please” He drew a big arrow on my thigh. “Just to make sure we don’t do the wrong one eh? Right, I’ll see you in the theatre.” A smile and a wave and he was gone.

A short while later, I was on my way, being wheeled along corridors and in and out of lifts. I was pushed into a corner in a room that I presumed was the recovery room. Everything was as spotless and modern as any hospital should be. Medical staff milled around wearing masks and scrubs, all very chatty and cheerful. I heard music occasionally as doors swung open and shut. A friendly face with a podgy nose, squeezed by his mask appeared through the curtain.

“Hi Judith, I’m Alan, I’m one of your anaesthetists today. I’m going to be looking after you, and will make sure you are comfortable throughout the procedure. We will be putting an anaesthetic into your spine, and then we will sedate you, so you are nicely asleep.’

“I won’t hear any drilling and hammering will I?’

He laughed, “No, you’ll be out completely.”

“Like Gin and tonic then?” (Why do I talk such tatie ash?)

“Much better than that! The good thing is that the spinal anaesthetic will carry on working for a few hours, so you will be quite comfortable this afternoon.’

 He flicked through my notes, and looked up “I see you’re a singer, what sort of music?”

“All kinds, blues, rock, country - mainly Americana”

“Are you online?”

“Yes, I have 3 albums online, plus a few odd singles, including a disco track.’

‘Wow, I’m going to have a listen.” He stood up. “Ok, we will see you in a couple of minutes. Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine.”

I was next! EEK!

My trolley was wheeled down a corridor and into the operating theatre. Several surgical staff were waiting, one of them introduced herself as being from Ulverston, in Cumbria, my home turf. 

I was laid on my side, my leg lifted sideways into a sling or something, I couldn’t see what. A green curtain appeared. Jesus, here we go! 

“Sharp scratch Judith, are you ok?’

‘Er, I suppose so.’

“I’m just popping this into your hand”. Alan was sitting next to me: “Right here’s your gin and tonic”

 ‘Just an old sweet song, brings Georgia on my mind”

My eyes flickered open. Where in God’s name am I? And who is that singing like me? I blinked hard a few times. Shit! I’ve woken up in the middle of surgery. I need more of that gin!

A kind face appeared. Alan. “Hi Judith, we’re just finishing up now, you’ll be back in your bed soon.”

“She sings like me” I managed to mumble

“That’s because it is you, we’ve listened to your music all the way through the operation.”

“Wooooow!” I hadn’t felt this high since ... well it was a long time ago!

 The green curtain came down. I must have been moved onto my back, although I have no idea how. Next thing I knew I was snoozing in recovery. I heard words like Paracetamol Long tec. Short Tec. 

Mr D and Alan were in front of me. I can’t for the life of me remember what they said as I drifted off again. 

Soon I was back in my room. I had something over my face, blowing a gentle breeze of cold air. 

A nurse appeared in my field of vision. 

“We will need to keep you on oxygen for 24 hours, are you ok?’

I think I nodded, then closed my eyes.

“Would you like some tea and toast?’

“Can I have coffee and brown toast please?’

In the blink of an eye, there was coffee and toast and I was sitting up. I demolished it. I hadn’t eaten since 7pm the day before.

Mistake!

I felt very, very sick! I pressed the buzzer. A nurse appeared instantly 

“I feel sick”

“Ok, do you want me to get you something for that?”

I nodded, I felt better.

She came back with what looked like a papier-mâché bowler hat. 

“I can get you some peppermint tea if you don’t want any drugs”

‘That sounds like a good idea”

It wasn’t!

Have you seen the exorcist? Yeah, that! Plus, I hadn’t been for a wee for hours and couldn’t feel my lower half, so...

I felt so sorry for the poor nurses cleaning up after me. 

A couple of hours later the feeling started to return and I needed a wee. I pressed the buzzer, and a small army appeared. “I need a wee’

A commode appeared. I was gently swung round so my feet dangled off the side of the bed. 

“Are you ok? You have gone very white”

“I think so”

I was helped and supported to my feet, and lowered onto the commode.

I pointed at the bowler hat and squeezed my lips together with my fingers.

At least this time I didn’t need a full change of bedding and another sexy backless gown. 

I had a drip of fluids and something to stop me being sick plus more painkillers going into my left hand. 

I was totally exhausted and felt absolutely bloody awful. But as Scarlet O’Hara once said:

“Tomorrow is another day”.