Me, myself & the NHS

During my early to mid-20's, many of my friends had begun to settle down, get married and started having a family. I was still drinking and dancing on tables of a weekend (ok, week day too) and had no interest in any of that. I met my now husband when I was 28 years old, and whilst we married just three years later, I had never been especially broody. Fate took away much of that decision for a large part of my adult life as I'd been diagnosed with a hip condition called femoral retroversion. I've had surgeries to both my hips and knees in 2013, 2014, 2015, two in 2019, and during lockdown in the infamous 2020. Any ideas of starting a family were taken away from me. In between surgeries there were countless scans, steroid injections and various medications.  I was asked "when are you two having babies" multiple times over the years. One such occasion being during the evening on our wedding day - whilst still stood in my ivory taffeta dress! But as the years went by...

It's been exactly three years to the day since I have my first hip arthroscopy. Though it still feels like yesterday. I can still remember that clean hospital smell on the ward and the numbness in my legs from the spinal block. I have a condition called femoral retroversion, although there is nothing 'retro' about it.  In a nutshell, it means the head of the femurs are wonky-donkeys and like to sit at a slightly different angle. It's enough to have meant that my lovely joints have been trying to destroy themselves.  How lovely! So, whilst I was running free in my early twenties, my body was coming up with a cunning plan to try to destroy the rest of my adult life. Luckily for me, modern medicine and surgery have meant that we can try to save my joints and delay needing replacements. But at 38 years old, I have a ridiculous number of limitations. Now, don't get me wrong, I know how incredibly lucky I am to be able to walk, limp or hobble. Others are not so fortunate ...

When I was first diagnosed with arthritis in both knees, I’d been with my employer for almost 10 years. They were with me through 3 operations and always had my back.  Unfortunately for me, redundancy was just around the corner but I was cycling and getting much, much stronger. So, when I went to a new employer, I didn’t feel what I’d been through was really relevant. I wasn’t great going up or coming down stairs but I’m an accountant - they don’t need me to be a boss on the StairMaster!  I was with the company for 4 years. During which time, I was diagnosed with a hip condition called femoral retroversion, and I needed a further 3 surgeries. It was as if I was allergic to my new employer because the minute my arse hit the chair, my body began to fall apart.  Being diagnosed with arthritis in my hips as well was tough; it’s no longer something I can hide too well because at 37, I have the joints of a 60-year-old.  I’d always been active in my early 20’s, so accepting...

Arthritis. It's a word you'd usually associate with the older generation. One you might link with retirement, cod liver oil tablets and stair lifts.  But what if it's a word living along side full time employment, pregnancy, motherhood, being career driven or even a socialite?  Having arthritis means we might have to work that little bit harder and live with chronic pain, daily. I'm 37 years old and the prospect of joint replacements has been a harsh reality for many years. Each operation I've had has been an attempt to preserve my hips and knees from the cruel mistress that's controlling my every move in life.  I have a condition called femoral retroversion. It means the head of my thigh bone is a dic[tator]. It dictates how long I can stand for, how I sleep, where or even  how I sit, and accepting these limitations can be an uphill battle. Sometimes it's hard to see where a condition ends and you begin; the truth is it doesn't - you just co-exist. It...

It’s been three weeks since I last had hip surgery; this third week is what's known as, the 'shit week'. My apologies for any unladylike language in this blog: this experience cannot be explained without the odd profanity. For those that have read my previous blogs, you'll know that I'm an old-hat at this now - I've had six operations to my hips and knees. I’m in a fair amount of pain and finding things generally crap (as expected); my range of movement is somewhat easier; the drugs are lowering in dose and my resemblance to a 'zombie-land' wife, is beginning to dissipate. As predicted, the usual wall climbing, unavoidable, tediously dry boredom has set in. I also know that it’ll be sticking around for the duration. Great! This recovery is long, tough and seemingly unforgiving. Your emotions are all over the place, due to the whole ‘goldfish bowl’ experience: it comes with being stuck indoors and doesn’t actually surprise me anymore. However, the pandemi...

I was about 5 months post op on my left hip when lockdown began. My local orthopaedic hospital closed its doors to non-urgent patients; whilst my surgeon and physio were only contactable by phone or email. Although I was still in pain, I do remember feeling relieved that I wasn't awaiting surgery.   The NHS had gone into crisis and elective surgeries were being cancelled left, right and centre. Having had two operations cancelled in 2019, I knew the heartache and uncertainty that followed in normal circumstances, never mind during a pandemic. In the months that followed, my symptoms worsened and I knew something was wrong. The hospital began contacting patients and my surgeon agreed to see me face-to-face.  When I arrived, the car park was half empty and the pay-stations were covered with ‘not in use’ signs. The entrances had staff taking temperatures, asking patients to use hand sanitiser and to wear the masks provided. Visitors weren’t allowed inside the hospital, but I rely...