About

If you’re interested to find out what brought me here, then this bits for you. .

Just over 10 years ago I was told I had severe osteoarthritis in both my hips, came as a bit of a shock as I was only 46. I continued to work for as long as I could in my job as a tour guide, but the main skill in being a guide, apart from talking, is walking and this was becoming a huge struggle, unlike the talking.

I tried to run the business from an office and employed people, but this proved to be impossible because as I found to my peril, wannabe tour guides are less trustworthy than Judas Iscariot. With my faith in humans shattered along with my hips, I packed it in with the hope that I’d now have an operation and all would be good.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t to be and I was told to that due to my pastry consumption and lack of exercise, I was too fat to lie on the operating table. I agreed it was a fair point and so started swimming and going to fat club, which together over the course of 18 months, seemed to work. But like everything in life, something goes wrong and my nemesis came in the form of a hernia. .

The pain it caused forced me to stop swimming, though things were still looking good. As I was close to the required weight and the hernia was in need of urgent repair, the surgeon said that I could have the op. All was planned for April 2020, but as you know a month earlier, the world took a siesta and didn’t wake for 2 years. During this period I went in three times for the op. On each occasion I was gowned up and ready, only for it to be cancelled. The final time I was so close, only five steps away from the ward door as the nurse held it open.

As I limped slowly towards her, the feeling came over me like I was a spy in a film, just about to cross the border into another country and safety. The two sticks I was using, certainly helped me walk, but it meant I didn’t have a hand free to hold my gown together at the back, so it flapped from side to side, exposing my arse to the ward, I didn’t care.

Just then I heard a voice, it was the sister calling me back, the op was cancelled, now I did care. Not only because I wasn’t going to be fixed, but because I had to turn around and head back down the ward. This of course meant the very pretty nurse who had been holding the door, was now following behind me, poor girl.

I did eventually get my hernia op and after the six weeks recovery, was back swimming and determined to get the weight off. Something though wasn’t right and I began to get pins and needles in my arms and chest, it turned out to be several blood clots in my lungs, which clearly isn’t good. The doctors agreed and insisted I stay with them for a week, that was fun.

Now, several months later, I’m at a stage where I have to get three stone off before September. If I do then I get on the list to finally have my hips sorted. It does feel like its been a long journey but there’s always someone worse off than you. I hope by writing this blog, at least one person is inspired to keep going. No matter how much pain you’re in or how crap and depressed you feel, remember each day is different and you can only do so much.

As the actress said to the bishop, “sometimes it’s hard, sometimes it’s not, make sure you take advantage when you can”.