So how did I get here?
For readers of my previous blogs, you’ll remember that in August I headed off in my brand new campervan, George, accompanied by Toby, and explored the Yorkshire Dales and the north Norfolk coast. My last trip with George was to Northumberland in September, long walks along the coast path from Dunstanburgh castle to Bamburgh, running with Toby along those glorious wide, white, empty beaches. Well, that’s not quite true – Toby ran, I walked and threw a ball. But you get the picture – I was perfectly mobile, I could pop up and down the ladder to my comfy bunk in the roof of the van and walk miles every day as we explored the wild beauty of the Northumberland coast.
In October I took that trip to Georgia (see Snapshots of Georgia blog) where I did struggle a bit climbing up to the cave monasteries, and I used a regular walking pole to help me along. But on the whole I was fine. And now – well, you would laugh at my excitement – Eureka! - when I discovered Foxy, a flexible plastic contraption with long strings on each side, that meant I could put my socks on by myself. I suppose that was the first thing – the inability to reach down to put my socks on. If you’re going to get osteoarthritis, get it in the summer when you don’t need socks!
Every few days has seemed to bring a new indignity. The next was pants. To start with I realised I couldn’t put them on while standing up, as I couldn’t bend down to get my foot through the holes; but then not even when sitting down – or at least not without a long, hard struggle. But for every problem, someone has been there before and someone else has invented a solution. I’m horrified I need these usually ugly contraptions, but I’m also very grateful for them as it means I can manage on my own. A long handled stick with a clip on the end that you can pick things up from the floor with – one upstairs, one downstairs – is invaluable and helps with the putting on of pants. They are called Doris, both of them. But the best discovery has been pants with poppers on the sides! I’ve just sent a review to Cheeky Pants to let other people know how well they work. Why Cheeky Pants? I cannot imagine. But I’m very grateful for them – help with putting on socks is one thing, help with pants quite another. And too cold and uncomfortable to go commando.
A seat in the shower was next on the list. Day by day I got more nervous about having a bath, in case I couldn’t get out. I managed various manoeuvres and always succeeded, but was always worried that one day I wouldn’t be able to swing my leg over the side of the bath to get out. A long, hot bath in the evening, sometimes with a glass of wine, often watching tele, has long been one of the joys of my life and a hard thing to give up. But the shower is OK, along with more contraptions: the said chair, but also my daughter discovered for me a long handled stick with sponges on the end that you can use to wash between your toes! You have to laugh if you don’t want to cry. Following on, with more google searches, I found another long wooden stick that you can put a soft brush on the end, for washing your lower leg; and then change for a sort of non-absorbent sponge that you can put body lotion on and rub into same lower leg! Joy to get rid of that dry skin.
All that came after the crutches, which my sister offered to me and have meant I can at least walk around, and get slowly upstairs, though my long walks with Toby are for the moment a thing of the past. For reasons too complicated to explain, they are called Rodney. So Rodney and Doris have become crucial components of my life.
And they made me realise I couldn’t carry on like that, slowly deteriorating; I would have to bite the bullet and discuss surgery. Which I duly did; and with a good dose of guilt and a realisation of how lucky I was to have private health insurance, a date was booked for a hip replacement. The difficulty was deciding which hip, as both were becoming as bad as each other. “Don’t worry, you can change your mind right up to the day,” said my consultant helpfully. What I found less helpful was his insistence that I would have the op under spinal anaesthetic. Awake for all that sawing and hammering, with your leg pulled out at a weird angle? I wasn’t sure I was brave enough……
I write this with my computer on my lap, resting on another helpful invention: a padded tray. Sitting in a chair at a table is too uncomfortable for long, even with piles of cushions; and resting the lap-top directly on my legs is too heavy. But ignominy of ignominies is The Minger, the name given by my children to the old person’s chair that I rushed out and bought when my operation was cancelled the evening before it was due in early December, and I realised I could be months more with no way of sitting comfortably anywhere in my house. Bed had long ceased being a place of blissful comfort, as there was no way of sleeping comfortably, even with the help of strategic pillows and hot water bottles. And my favourite Loaf yellow velvet armchair was too low down to be able to get out of easily. So off to a local store to put that right.
“You haven’t!!! You haven’t got one of those dreadful old people’s chairs?!!” One of my lovely neighbours has followed my path of deterioration. She couldn’t believe I had sunk to that. Was I going to ruin my beautiful, elegant new garden room with such an ugly piece of furniture? “But this one I don’t think looks so awful….” “They are all awful, I’ve seen them.”
The truth is I don’t care. I’m sitting in it right now. It has a button that can make it do anything I want, put my legs up as far as I want, the back up or down; it will even tip me up to help me get up if my thighs aren’t working properly. And that’s what’s been happening, however hard I’ve worked to stave it off by religiously doing daily exercises with a programme called Versus Arthritis. Sometimes I wonder if my legs will even work at all in the morning, the worst time.
Back to the chair. And the not caring if it’s ugly-ish if it’s useful and comfortable. As my sister, who is sweetly staying a few days to help me till the op, said as she zipped up my boots for me (I haven’t solved that one yet) – We’ll all be wearing Velcro soon. Indeed. However, I might not be able do the zip up, but with another contraption I found I can put on and take off my boots. A long handled shoe-horn was an early discovery; a long handled shoe-horn that on the other end has a horse-shoe shaped firm rubber piece that holds the heel of your shoe while you pull it off helps with both. More steps towards independence!
Jump forwards to February and four weeks post-January-op:
Well, I now have a Bionic Hip! Staying with my patient and long-suffering daughter, all the above additions to my life are coming in useful post-op. Not to mention my own personal loo seat that travels with me. Like our late Queen apparently. I wonder how long it will be till I no longer need Foxy to help put on my socks?! Remembering I still have another arthritic hip, which will keep me struggling until I’m brave enough to have that one done as well.
But the big question is, once I’m able to drive again in a few weeks’ time – will I be able to drive George? Or more importantly, be able to go away on a trip with George and Toby? I may have to wait till after that second op……….
I’ll keep you posted.