It’s week five following total hip replacement surgery and no one told me how much it would still hurt. That said I’ve ditched the crutches and the painkillers and am doing my utmost to be normal instead of drifting about like an invalid. Why should that matter to you? Good point. If you’re in line for this operation, be warned. If not, be sympathetic and send me more chocolates.

The other thing I’ve learned thanks to the hip thing is the value of a functioning health service. The UK’s National Health Service (NHS) has been fantastic, from start to finish in this process. I’ve even got an appointment to check out a dodgy knee to see how its coping with the strain. Free crutches, free medication, free physio, world leading surgical competence. We don’t know how lucky we are, so thank you NHS.

And if you think you might be in line for a new hip, don’t leave it too long before you do something about it. Get yourself on the list as soon as possible, because leaving it leads to pain, misery and depression. I knew I should get something done about my hip when we were tackling the steps and alleyways of Hydra some three years ago. Lying flat and stretching out the stiffness caused a noisy crackling in the hip and it felt easier, so I thought it was fine. Big mistake. All that happened was that I didn’t notice the pain as much. By the time it was clear that the joint was knackered, I had to wait several agonising months for an appointment for surgery. Those months were grim and characterised by bad-temperedness, impatience and a subtle brain signal blocking activies that involved any stress to the hip, which was everything. Think a reluctance to walk anywhere, avoiding hills and trying to not drive. Pathetic.

Until about six weeks before the surgeon let loose with saw, hammer and drill I was still riding. But finally the leg swing had swung its last so I had to stop. I did keep up with the weight and strength training as much as possible, right to the day before and this was definitely a good move. The recovery exercises and the process of working the new hip and leg bone has been much easier because of core and leg strength.

It’s going to take a while before my confidence comes back. This is another legacy of having left it too long. All those unnecessary months of pain have left me anxious and nervous, with a brain that says, ooh no, don’t do that, ask Paul to help. This is so annoying because it implies some sort of weird change in my character. And it makes me lazy about appreciating the incredible support Paul has given me, from looking after the animals to being patient with my irritability and bossiness. The sense that my character is somehow changing is reinforced by an almost total lack of appetite. Even chocolate is being chomped in way less quantities than before and I haven’t had an alcoholic beverage since New Year’s Eve. Perhaps that isn’t so bad. 

Maybe the other benefits will soon make themselves felt: no stabbing needles jabbing into the hip bone, no solid aching pain reaching all the way to the ankle joint, no need to lift by hand the dodgy leg to get into bed or car, or onto the sofa. And being able to dance wild and crazy again without the risk of falling over! Soon.

This is a bit of a rant, but I guess one that was much needed. Thanks for reading.