where art collides philosoperontap

Up at the crack of dawn believe it or not. Well eightish. Hannah and George were off swimming so if I wanted someone to pull my socks on I needed to get in there before they left. It’s only my right foot that’s the issue 🙂 You’re getting the whole nine yards of recovery process here. Also a bit sorer this morning so I’ve added ibuprofen to the painkiller cocktail.

I don’t know whether the soreness is down to me sitting in the armchair for much of the day, interspersed with the occasional exercise obvs. Find out soon enough when the stitches come out on Monday.

Today, as you probably know, Friday. We are having a takeaway curry from the Castle View and last night I tried calling to book a slot – they get v busy. Their phone was up the swanee. I got a busy tone all night. Can’t believe they took it off the hook because they were getting too many orders. Anyway I sent them an email with the order but not heard back yet so at the time of writing I am not sure where we will be sourcing the curry. They open at five so will have to call then, assuming they’ve fixed the phone. You have to be quick off the mark as their takeaway slots get booked up v quickly.

That was actually an aside as my observation of it being Friday related more to the fact that it is quite customary to have a beer early doors. I’ve hardly touched a drop since the middle of January, Christmas really, but today feels like a couple of pints of lager day. Problem is I daren’t do it. Last thing I want is to keep having to go to the loo. The other thing is all we have in is cans of John Smiths, purchaysed for our party last December. Funnily enough nobody drank it. Any of it! It was a cheap case of beer to chuck in the mix to avoid running out. We never run out anyway.

I shall look back at this period of my life with no fondness whatsoever. One interesting thing that has come out of the last few days is to see the strength of my daughter Hannah. She has taken putting my socks on for me in her stride, so to speak. It’s a fact of life that parents at some stage are likely to need looking after. This period of immobility is an early introduction to aged parents for our kids and fortunately should only be temporary. At least I am able to do everything else myself. If you know you know,

Next door has packed their car up. Must be off somewhere for the weekend. Or the tip.  I didn’t clock what they put in their boot but it didn’t feel as if it was rubbish. I see all this because I’m sat in the bay window of the snug. The armchair has been brought over from the shed – the only one that meets the height spec and even then I’m sitting on three cushions. 

It would be preferable to sit looking out at the garden where the view is more pleasant and there is no traffic noise but the snug is better suited for this present purpose. Easy access to the rest of the house, a TV, somewhere to put down a cup of tea, the grabber, some books and my laptop. The TV only goes on in the evening and it is generally a struggle to find anything to watch.

So now I’m waiting for the kids to come back from swimming – I fancy another cup of tea. I’ve normally had at least three by now. Also got the first conference call out of the way. Only conference call. Nine o’clock and work is finished for the day. Mostly.

Yesterday was spent fruitlessly trying to find evidence of the use of our farm Maesnoni for dissenter gatherings. John Miles or Myles in particular. I knew I’d seen something somewhere. I did find that Hywel Harris had spoken at Maesnoni. Hywel was a big name in the Methodist movement in Wales. Then this morning, blow me down, knock me down with a feather, I found it. I’d already captured a screenshot with the details but didn’t spot it on my trawl through what I already had. John Miles,1649!

This is quite exciting. V historic. Maesnoni is still a working dairy farm in Llanllwni. It has to be on my list of places to visit during my trip in the spring. Another of our farms, Glyn Adda. just a few miles down the road in Alltwalis was also used for the same purpose. I haven’t nailed the family association between Maesnoni and Glyn Adda but I’m fairly sure it is there.

The biggest question is how we got to own all the land. There are over ten farms involved which is quite a substantial holding for those times. It feels as if you either owned thousands of acres or just a few, or nothing and the ten farms seems a bit in between. We shall see. More as it happens…

I can put my knees together. Not sure I’ve mentioned it before. This is nothing to do with me being demure or anything like that. Before the op I couldn’t do it. Neither could I lift my knee up beyond say a 20 degree angle. I can now. I don’t yet know about rotational hip dexterity, or however they put it. Actually if I used the correct medical terminology none of us would understand it, unless you are of that ilk. That background. 4 sleeps till the stitches come out.

Enough of this hip talk daddy oh. Oh except to say the arrow is still there but fading fast. Also took a pic of the dressing today but you don’t get to see that due to its proximity to my hairy backside,. I note they shaved that bit of glute which is understandable. Only time ever.

I did have a shower and a shave this morning and feel invigorated. That’s what showers are for. And cleansing obvs. Purging. I’m lucky I have a waterproof dressing. We had a pal around the other night and she did not and had to wash herself with flannels for six weeks.  

When you interview your hip surgeon make sure you ask about waterproof dressings before making your final choice. Mind you at the going rate for a consultation your shortlist wants to actually be short. Mine only had the one surgeon on it as I’d done my due diligence in advance. In making his diagnosis he told me the only solution was surgery and left it hanging as if it was my decision to make. I told him I chose him because he knows what he is doing ands he should tell me what to do. The result is known to all. Ongoing result anyway.

Stop. I said no more trendy talk.

THG has headed out for some well earned R&R and George is frying away in the kitchen fair play to him. This will be my first proper fry up for over a week. I can’t actually see the action because the chair I use faces towards the wall. The pew, which is the most popular seat in the house, is marginally too low for me. Pews were clearly designed to make it easy for worshippers to lean forwards and slip onto their knees for devotions.

The family tree research, the pace of which is mostly glacial but which does occasionally trigger a landslide of new information, continues. I am approaching very interesting time. The oldest family member I have is David Jones, a wealthy landowner of Maesnoni farm, Llanllwni, Carmarthenshire. From what I can gather the family was uber religious and of old Welsh stock.

I’ve seen links with John Myles (Miles) visits and other early dissenters from the 1600s and early 1700s. A few Baptists from the area were early escapees to America. Maesnoni farm takes some finding because place name spellings in those days were fairly random. Maesnon could also me Maesnonni, Maesnonny, Maes-nonny etc. Llanllwni was also Llanllwney or Llanllwny. Anyway it’s keeping me busy/screwing my eyes up. Plenty of good material for a book.

The story includes transportation to Australia for stealing sheep, hangings at Carmarthen Gaol and rioting against local turnpikes during the renowned Rebecca Riots..

Ciao amigos.

Did you know, the shipping forecast lasts ten minutes. What’s not to like? I know this because during one of my awake periods I switched the wireless on to help me nod off again. Unfortunately I was up to date on episodes of “TwentyYears A Growing” by Maurice O’Sullivan and the next one wasn’t due until 08.30 (Radio 4 Extra – well worth a listen and I must buy the book). 

Hmm, worramagoingtolistento? Ahah! The Shipping Forecast. The trusty Shipping Forecast. Guaranteed to get you off to sleep again. On it went. I figured I’d stick a five minute snooze on as I didn’t particularly want to hear anything else. Would you Adam and Eve it, the doggone Shipping Forecast got cut short half way across Dogger Bank or similar. I switched it back on and copped a “snooze at the end of the programme” setting which did the job.

Winding the clock forward and I awoke in time to catch the live version of the next Shipping Forecast. I was quite thrilled with this. Dunno if you’ve ever been lucky enough to catch more than one of these iconic broadcasts in the same day, let alone within a few short hours of each other but the difference is marked.

I’m not talking about the difference in the weather here. That is always changing unless you happen to be becalmed somewhere near the Bermuda Triangle. No, the morning version didn’t have the Sailing By musical introduction. Quite disappointing. Instead we were fed some trailers for programmes later in the day on Radio 4.

Once I recovered from this disappointment I found that the tone of voice and delivery of the presenter was quite different. Whereas the one in the middle of the night was calm and relaxing, dull almost, the morning guy was quite upbeat, almost rapid fire. Wow. Unless I’ve been on watch all night I guess I’m not listening to it at that time of day to help me fall asleep. I’m after news of whether the gales in Biscay are slackening or should I be hanging my washing out anywhere in the vicinity of Rockall.

The latter would benefit from a gentle breeze obvs but no rain and definitely not a gale as I wouldn’t have to go to M&S for more underwear when I’ve already restocked the drawer within the last ten years (jokes).

They should really do a Shipping Forecast Greatest HIts. Maybe an end of year review of the best moments. That time when Hurricane Hernando struck Cornwall destroying the day’s crop of clotted cream and preventing the strawberry jam from setting. Or when on April Fools Day they slipped the Serpentine in Hyde Park in the forecast. Lock up yer pedalohs. A Greatest Hits might showcase the talents of the different presenters featured during that year. Who knew there was such a variety of of voices? There are at least two we know for a fact and this isn’t something you can record well in advance to facilitate economic use of studio time.

I have to be careful not to drone on too long here or I could spend all day at it and some of you have stuff to be getting on with. I’ll finish with the information that the Shipping Forecast lasts ten minutes and is a good use of your time at 05.20 before you head out to do the milking or go to the gym.

Ciao amigos.

…

Couple of short solo walks today. Bus stop and back. Didn’t get as far as yesterday with Tom. Suspect that was a bit too far for this stage of the game. Little by little… Now watching a programme on steam trains on Amazon Prime. Different on screen aspect ratio. V niche stuff but still better than a lot of the footage they churn out these days. Doubt they use that term anymore. Digital age and all that.

Got bored and now watching a black and white western. This won’t last long either. Next up binge watching Guy Martin’s Proper Jobs.

At least it’s the Peul v Villa at half seven.

Not a particularly good night’s kip. Woke up a lot. Probably because I’m having to sleep on my back but it is what it is. The last couple of hours seems to make up for it although I did wake up with a slight headache. Paracetamol sorted, amazingly. Then a refreshing shower.

I’m not looking for sympathy. It is just a reflection of life after the hip hop. A life that is gradually getting back to where it should be. For example the sideways leg moving exercises were a lot easier this morning.

Gonna be mostly off the pop for the next few weeks. The original, medical advice driven motivation is that alcohol combined with morphine makes you drowsy. I stopped taking morphine after day one so that doesn’t apply, although alcohol makes me drowsy anyway if I don’t drink enough of it.

No, the side effect of alcohol that would affect me most is the frequency of visits to the lavatory once the seal is broken. Then there is the increase in the number of visits overnight as the body continues to process the beer. Whilst still using crutches it just isn’t worth the hassle.

THG has set off for a swim and then her gym classes, fair play. Tom is still in bed. He goes back to the smoke today. THG herself heads off for a few days R&R from Tref on Thursday. We had both been going to London to see a Peter Kay gig but I’ve handed my ticket over to one of the kids. THG is being replaced by gorgeous daughter Hannah and her affianced George who are moving in Wednesday evening to put in a shift. That’s what ya do for your daddy innit.

Daddy himself is very much looking forward to regaining his freedom of movement. It’s only when you don’t have it you realise how important it is. Even small things like carrying a cup of tea to the snug. I’m lucky to have a great family. 

This morning I have to do some work! I got to rite some stuff dunneye. The morning is the time to do it when my brain is fresher. Amazing how tiring sitting on a pile of cushions in an armchair gets you. I do move about and have some exercises but they don’t take up the whole day. 

Then there’s the long outdoor walk. Yesterday I really pushed it and must have done at least 80 yards. Round trip! Today I sense we will crash the 100 yard barrier. Effin amazin ou quoi? Note the use of Imperial measurements. Dunno why. No real reason. It’s probably for the same underlying reason I call a radio the wireless. Both are valid. I can make it sound further by measuring in yards rather than metres though the quoted distances are mere guesswork anyway.

In theory I could walk to the Bromhead for physio and stitch removal on Monday. Google says it is 0.6 miles, 13 mins. Takes quadrupeds longer obvs. I’m certain Google assumes the walking speed of yer average granny as lots of them stride past when I’m ambling along. Also google doesn’t realise you can take the shortcut through the Lindum Cricket Club car park (Lincoln Rugby Club before it moved to Nettleham) which brings you out right opposite the hospital. I think I’ll make that a goal for the later physio sessions. It should only be a ten minute walk or less for a fit person.

…

Rewind. Tom goes tomorrow, doh. V invigorating walk with him to the bus stop and back. Basically neighbour number 3. Plotted the distance out on google maps and it’s 120m round trip. Mixing my units here but I’m happy with that. Will go again after lunch and maybe push it to 150m, or more. Without going crazy obvs. Making it to the bus stop represents a significant milestone as all I have to do is stand there (for up to 20 mins) and I could catch the bus into town, foolish as that might be.

…

Bit of news. After a nap upstairs I popped into the kitchen to retrieve what was left of the bunch of grapes Mandy had brought around yesterday. Would you believe it whilst en route to the snug one of the grapes dropped off and rolled under a chair at the kitchen table. Totally unfazed I hopped along to the snug to get the grabber and was able to demonstrate extreme dexterity in picking up the grape off the floor. It being well within the five minute rule I was able to pop the grape in my mouth and bite into the deliciously juicy piece of fruit. More as it happens…

I’ve definitely given up on the sock puller upper. Need to find out where I got it from and leave a shite review. I can do my left foot manually (so to speak) but not the right. Yet. You all need to value your own health and fitness. This is an advanced warning of what it is like to get old. Not for everyone but for many.

Almost a week since the op and four nights since I got home. Before the op I would have a constant soreness in the hip from bone rubbing on bone. None of that now. Just the constraints of the stitches which come out a week tomorrow. I’ll need to check. Going to call the hospital this am anyway. Just to catch up on old times. No. My stitches removal and first physio have been arranged for Nottingham but the hospital is only three hundred yards from us in Lincoln and it makes sense to get it all done there.

Quite looking forward to that. I sense that the real progress begins then. My (3rd) cousin Allyson, who I’ve met online in the course of doing the family tree research, also had her hip done recently. She said that after three weeks she ditched the crutches. They are telling me to stay on two crutches for four weeks dropping to one for two weeks and then they are happy for me to go off and climb Yr Wyddfa or Steep Hill or play golf. Will see how it goze innit.

Just waiting for the other person to join a conference call believe it or not. Nine thirty on a Monday morning! Wot on earth? I hear you exclaim loudly as you fall off your chairs, spill the coffee and drop biscuit crumbs all over the carpet. I know, I know but hey… 

He is now a minute late. I was four minutes early. Four minutes early is on time. A minute late is keeping me waiting when I have better things to do such as nip upstairs and switch the heating back on. Mind you it isn’t that cold. Tis a beeootiful day out. 

I shall be heading out for a walk this morning. Yesterday I made it past the pedestrian crossing to the tree in front of next door’s drive. Not directly in front of the drive obvs as they wouldn’t be able to get cars in and out. Just beyond the entrance.

Today I will go further. There is no reason really why I couldn’t go a lot further but the advice is to do it bit by bit in case you go so far that you can’t get back. Tbh the main stress is on your hands because I’m not used to holding crutches. The ultimate objective is to get as far as the Morning Star and then take a break to build up energy for the walk back.

He is now eight minutes late. In two minutes I shall abandon the call. Not that I have other urgent pressing matters. 

He scraped in by the hair on his chinny chin chin. All done. Let’s get on with le jour (he was French).

…

In other news Mandy Wheatley swung by with some grapes. The thought was very much appreciated (hint hint – though I’m good for grapes at the mo).

Went for a walk with our Tom in attendance. Made it two doors down. Kept short in deference to the fact that Tom was wearing a pair of shorts and a tee. Effin cold out. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

…

In bed by 9.15 but really because there was nowt to watch after University Challenge. Should have brought a book up. Found an interesting documentary on Roman writer Suetonius on Radio 4. Was a bit concerned there might be wall to wall politics but I might just be too early for that.

Spoke with the Bromhead hospital. Stitches removal has been brought forward to Monday in Lincoln, ditto first physio sesh. 6 sleeps. On the other hand I’m told I have to wear the stockings for another 5 weeks and sleep on my back for that time. That doesn’t make for a good kip. I guess there are worse things at sea.

Made it back to the end of the 17th Cent with the family tree. Online sources running out. A trip to Wales will have to be planned.

Gospel happy clappy on the Sunday service. I don’t mind a bit of uplifting Aretha Franklin Americun gospel as opposed to the modern happy clappy nonsense we get fed in the UK. Trouble is it’s a bit lively for ten past eight on a Sunday morning. The BBC needs another focus group to realign their content with what us punters want to hear. Reassuring dullness with some strains of classic church music thrown in to break it up a bit. The wireless has now been switched off no doubt registering a massive blip on their audience listening numbers.

The DG will have something to say when he (or she, I dunno) sees the charts in the Monday morning management meeting. “Did Tref not like the Sunday Service?” The phone will probably ring but if they do their usual trick of ‘number withheld’ I almost certainly won’t answer it.

Breakfast is THG’s highly invigorating gran o’la with yo ‘gurt and locally harvested blackberries. I am sorry that most of you will not get the opportunity to try it. V uplifting. There is also toast. White, buttered, orange marmalade, fine cut. The toaster started working again as soon as our Tom came home. Still doesn’t do the top bit of the bread. The toaster is toast once, I get round to sorting it. Manãna.

THG is off to her usual devotions this morning leaving me to sort meself out. This is not a big issue. By the time I need another cup of tea Tom might have surfaced. He keeps different hours to me being a much later bird. I’ve been getting to bed by nine since coming home from the hospital. It’s comfier there. I have found myself awake during the wee small hours looking for something to listen to on the wireless. 

I say wireless. It’s the BBC sounds app. The World Service is a bit hit and miss and last night it was definitely ‘miss’. I found instead a story on Radio 4 Xtra about some remote Irish Isle. Did the job. Even tempted to find out when the next episode is on, always assuming I can remember what it was called.

I can make my own tea. It’s just the carrying from the kitchen to the snug. That too is doable with some care but it makes sense to delegate it to an able hipped person. Tom has been very forthcoming with the tea tray fair play to him. A good lad.

Now fully socked in the snug and settled in for the morning. Socks are the only things I can’t put on meself. That will be the first sign of improvement. Yay I managed to put my own socks on. In a bit…

…

I’m told, by our esteemed Meteorological Office, that there is less than 5% chance of rain today. Well they called it precipitation but I understood what they were trying to say. I will therefore venture out of the front door a little later and walk as far as the front gate. We haven’t actually got a gate but it is the place at the entrance to the manoir where gates would be fitted if we did have them. When I get there I may even go further and see if I can get to the pedestrian crossing. That feels as if it will be enough for now.

Yesterday it was chucking it down all day and the drive was too slippery to risk. Had I looked I daresay the Met Office would have said 100% chance of precipitation. I didn’t need to look on their website. Just looking out of the window was enough.

There is noise coming from the kitchen. Breakfast being prepared. Sausages. We don’t all have brekkie at the same time. Wouldn’t life be boring.

Watching a bit of Rallying from Sweden on da box. V pictureskew with lots of forest and snow. The do a good snowy forest in Sweden. Good saunas too, no doubt.

Well, up and at it by eight thirty. Showered and then got meself dressed with the aid of one of those ‘grabbers’. Mostly. Needed help with the socks and the DVT stockings. Bloody difficult things to get on even if I was not encumbered with a wound on my right hip that prevents me from bending. At least these stockings are a discrete dark green as opposed to the stand out and get noticed buff coloured ones you normally see.

One of the disappointing purchases of late was the ‘sock putter onner’. This is a contraption you feed a sock onto and then pull up over your foot. Hey presto your sock is on. Well don’t bother I’m telling you. I wish I’d asked @Karen before I bought it because when I told her she said they were rubbish. Also I don’t need the shoe horn as I’m either only wearing slippers or my Timberland shoes that just slip on. Ah well.

I’ve mostly been able to do stuff meself although carrying anything whilst ‘racing’ along on my crutches is an issue. Especially cups of tea. Need to get a tote bag out so that I can carry books and laptop etc. Maybe put tea into a flask?! Plenty of tote bags in the shed though not been anywhere near there since coming home. The deck is slippery so I’m under orders to steer clear unless accompanied by a team of ‘propper uppers’. Isn’t worth the stress for the moment.

Breakfast was an excellent half a tin of grapefruit segments and a bacon sarnie prepared by the lovely THG. I am lucky to have THG as I’m sure most of you who know her will know. No grapefruit spoon was needed for the tinned fruit obvs. Now propped up on the armchair in the snug with a few books and a laptop within reach. An extra cushion under me on the armchair seems to have made the difference from a comfort perspective. Three now instead of the two I’ve been using.

So a day of getting through the day beckons. Writing, books, snooker, lunch, maybe some sport on the telly. Not enormously different to Saturdays in recent months but things do now at least have a prospect of change. I can move my hip a lot more than this time last week and I know it is going to improve from hereon in. (Hereon in??).

My life is quite quiet these days compared with the kids. One of em was at a red carpet world premier of a film at the Berlinale International Film Festival last night (probs got the name wrong) and another was at the last night party of James Bay’s European Tour the night before at Wembley. I like that the kids take life on to another level. We are but here for them to put their foot into our cupped hands and hoik themselves up.

I quite like the quiet life thing.

There is big news btw. All change at Lidl where you need to scan your receipt before getting out of the shop and Tesco car park now has speed bumps. The news just came in on the THG wire. I didn’t know they had a speeding problem at Tesco and Lidl must be attracting a lot of thieving gits. I know nothing. 

The other news is that there is Women’s Alpine Skiing on Discovery Plus. When I was a kid we used to watch Ski Sunday every weekend during the season. Seem to have got out of the habit. In those days it was probably on BBC1 or 2 prime time. Bugger all else on in those days. Bugger all on now, except Women’s Alpine Skiing but it is only ten am. The snow is good apaz. Aaah one of them has just missed a pole turn and pulled up. Red hot sports reporting as it happens…

At least there is rugby on at three o’clock. Quins v Saracens. THG also pointed out there Is Leicester City v Arsenal at twelve thirty. Cmon the foxes. There is undoubtedly more to life but currently it is what it is. No way will you get me doing jigsaws.

Somewhat bored sat here in the armchair in the snug. Have put the snooker on the box. Daytime TV at its finest. THG loves snooker but she is out.

I do get up periodically to move about. For example I’ll get up and make a cup of tea and bring it back to the chair to drink. Then I’ll have to get up to go to the loo. So it isn’t all just sitting on my arse and it is Mark Selby v John Higgins.

Been slowly making progress with the family tree but am looking for that breakthrough discovery and there is only so much staring at the laptop I can do. I have a brief conf call at two but it will only be five mins. Ten max.

Things are slowly improving. After only one day on the opiates I’ve dropped the morphine. It was making me sleepy and I don’t appear to be in much discomfort anyway. Will  in future stick to gin and tonic as my drug of choice. Or Timothy Taylor’s Landlord. The morphine is there if the pain returns.

I can only ascribe the lack of pain to the good job done by the surgeon. Ok I can feel the stitched bit if I land awkwardly in the chair but otherwise nowt. A true artist. Maybe I’m just ‘ard. Oh I’ve lost an arm. Well I’ve got another one.

Losing an arm would be a real nuisance when it came to playing snooker. I’m rubbish at snooker as it is as I have to stare at the ball over the top of my glasses. Every shot would have to be made using the rest. 

Maybe you can have a snooker equivalent of a runner in cricket. Someone to put their hand on the table for you to prop your cue on. In cricket you can only have a runner if you’ve injured yourself during the game so it wouldn’t be considered to be the same sitch as losing an arm. It is unlikely you could lose an arm and then recover in time to get back to the venue to finish off the match. Everything is possible I guess, in the most powerful minds.

Had my first visitor, Ajax. Didn’t bring any grapes but that’s ok.  I wasn’t expecting him or the grapes so it’s a bonus.

THG rang from Waitrose. We are apparently having a Valentine’s Day meal deal for two. Lovely. What’s not to like? She is also likely to have to cook it but she won’t complain. Trooper she is. Is it normal for the bloke to cook the Valentine’s dinner? Dunno. Bound to be nice.

Both Tom and THG are out now. What happens if I fall and hurt myself and am unable to call for help? Don’t worry. I’ll just have to stay sat watching the snooker. 

…

Long old day in the armchair. It’s early days but definite improvement. Just need to get the wound healed up

Awake. Pulse normal, blood oxygen normal, blood pressure normal which is unusual because I normally take tablets. I’ll have to watch that. Blood sugar back to normal after skyrocketing with the bourbon biscuit binge on Tuesday after the op. Hey it was all about recovery.

Still is for the next couple of weeks when the hip is expected to be sore. I’m taking home powerful morphine pills and liquid. No idea what. The nurses keep rattling off names but the only one I recognise is paracetamol.

Cup of tea in bed now before breakfast service at eight am ish. Bacon roll and toast and marmalade this morning. Must remind them about the brown sauce as I think I forgot. When I get home I have requested a cheese and onion crisp sandwich. If today isn’t the day there will never be a right day to have a cheese and onion crisp sandwich. Or a wrong one.

Rob picking me up at ten this morning which is v good of him. It will be worth a few beers in exchange. It’s only an hour home. The issue will be getting the leg into the car. Should be ok with the front passenger seat pushed right back. Otherwise I’ll have to sit across the back seat.

Then it’s a chill out day at home getting used to my surroundings. Might seem a strange thing to say considering we’ve lived in that house for 29 years but I won’t be able to use the sofas for a while. Tom and THG have moved the high armchair from the shed into the living room for me. Needs to be of a height such that my knees don’t have to bend more than 90 degrees. 22 ½ inches apaz. The bed will just about be ok. 

Taking it easy on the right leg this morning. Did a lot of exercises yesterday and it was quite sore by the afternoon. Par for the course. THis morning, having been lying still all night, the right leg is not as mobile as it will be later when I’ve exercised it a little more.

I use a grabber to pick things up off the floor as I’m not allowed to bend down but last night I leant on it and it broke. Actually I haven’t had to use it much because there are lots of nice people around to do things for me. I do have another at home and this one will superglue ok but I had to improvise getting my pyjama bottoms on last night. A crutch came to the rescue. I had forewarned the nurse that I might need a hand (ooerr) but fortunately I managed on my own. It’s good to think I’ll be soon able to look back at this time of immobility and crippledom and move on to the sunlit uplands.

The challenge for this morning is getting my undies and kecks on. I must have managed ok somehow yesterday. I should be able to pack my bag and someone will carry it downstairs for me. I might even get wheeled to reception. Wheeeee. Suspect they want me to fork out thirty nine quid for the crutches. The one thing the insurance co doesn’t pay for apaz. We shall see. They take amex.

Been a bit of a result having insurance cover. There would have been no change out of nineteen grand otherwise. Ok I’d have put it all on amex and got thirty k avios out of it but nineteen grand buys you a lot of flights. Or just two first class returns somewhere exotic. 

Waiting for the NHS would not have been a serious option. I wouldn’t even have had  the first consultant appointment yet had I waited, let alone have had the operation. Would probs have spent the next couple of years in a wheelchair, my soreness was that bad. Bone grinding on bone.

The same consultants operate for the NHS as in private but I was able to choose the surgeon based on recommendations from friends in the business and not just who was on offer in Lincoln. This really is a two tier system we have in the UK. I am a fan of the NHS but needs must.

Just waiting for me bacon roll now. I’m mostly packed and after brekkie will just need to get dressed and ready for the discharge process which will take a little time as there will be some explaining of drug taking timing to be made and understood. I will need to make notes.

The experience at the Park Hospital has been brilliant. The real world now beckons!

Well sleeping on my back proved not to be onerous. My hip won’t really let me turn yet anyway so sfine. I do juggle my feet and bend the right leg a lot when I remember. Not when I’m typing as my macbook is propped up against my left leg. Functional description especially for @Jess Ratty there.  

Woke naturally at around five thirty despite the two am blood pressure interruption, abluted, so to speak, using a new cardboard flask (obvs) and as soon as I was back in bed had another blood pressure test so I’d have been woken up anyway. It’s not just blood pressure. It’s also pulse and temperature followed by a separate nurse doing the blood oxygen test. That one is heading in right direction but not back to normal yet. 

Now sipping on a mug of tea, as opposed to the teapot and cup on a tray arrangement. Must all still be in the dishwasher or down in the kitchen in prep for the seven thirty breakfast service. I forgot to order brown sauce so hopefully that won’t take too long. Full English aint the same without brown sauce. None of this red sauce nonsense :). Probs get out of bed for brekkie and have it in “my chair”. I have three chairs. It is the Presidential Suite after all. Apaz the Chief Exec of the hospital group used this suite when she was in for a treatment. Not allowed to tell you why she was in obvs. Don’t know anyway. All ended well apaz which you’d expect wouldn’t you? Innit.

Today is my second and last full day in the Park Hospital. Looking forward to it far more than the first day which turned out to be quite a revelation. Despite being a posh gaff it’s the same crap on the telly so that stayed off. Had to endure five seconds of Eastenders audio before discovering they only showed the usual BB1, 2, ITV and Channel 4. They did have all the freeview chans. Just thought I’d tease you there for a bit but suspect it didn’t work.

Have yet to choose lunch and dinner options but let’s get breakfast out of the way first. Last night was the braised beef with dauphinoise spuds and veg and a nice gravy. V good. Wouldn’t have hurt to have more gravy but norra biggie. They probs called it jus not gravy which would justify the smaller portion. One of those dashes of sauce you’d see on mArseterchef. Might watch it now Greg Wallace isn’t on it to irritate me. Laaaavley. Pot noodle and chocolate mousse please.

Still another hour til breakfast. Gonna nod off for a bit. See ya.

…

Another flippin blood sample at seven. Had to point out to Ty, the American nurse from Philadelphia (an Eagles fan as was apparent from her lanyard) that for the purposes of NHS records my name was Huw Trefor Davies not Tref as the hospital has me down as. She was mildly disapproving but hey… Now she knows. I only mentioned it because the different nurse who took the blood yesterday came back to me to confirm my name as the place they store blood didn’t recognise me. Would having the name Huw Trefor Davies on the door of the suite make it look more Presidential? Dunno.

For some reason Ty didn’t use the cannula but went for a fresh hole, so to speak! Then she had an issue finding the end of the tape she used to hold down the bit of cotton wool on the “wound” and had to get a new one out of the plastic box. First world problems. Told her we are Chiefs fans in our family. If you don’t know you’ll have to look them up. Patrick Mahomes.

No point in trying to nod off again now and I have a small room light on instead of the reading light over the bed which switched itself off at seven am. Must be a setting somewhere as a nurse had to click something to set it up on the remote control/attendant caller. 

I keep finding the little plastic sticky things they must have used to hold down tubes or cables during the op. Will have to wait until I shower to see if they’ve all been retrieved. They obviously don’t count them in the way they count swabs to make sure they’ve removed them all before finally stitching you up after the op. That’s three so far, all of which were stuck to hairy bits of body. Ouch.

Turned out the light switch off was down to a generator test and it works now. When you think about it, having a backup power source for a hospital, especially the operating theatre is hugely important. More so even than at a datacentre. I’d be interested in seeing the spec for their setup inc UPS innit. My reading light obviously didn’t qualify to be hooked up to the UPS. Presumably there will be one or two UPS connected sockets in each room as well as the majority of the operating theatre. I assume my bacon is cooked on gas, baby. Seeing as they seem to mostly use paper in hospitals the data centre generator hook up feels less important here. The billing system can wait.

The bacon btw isn’t turning up until eight. This is the timing for cooked food. If you are v hungry go for the cereal and croissants at seven thirty. I’ll wait. I should have mentioned the brown sauce when the nurse came in to check on me. She wasn’t really the right person.

They all have different colour uniforms depending on the job they do. I think the dark blue ones are the fully qualified people. The ones that can stick a needle in you. Skilled job that. Not totes sure. I don’t mind what colour uniform brings the tea but I’d quite like the breakfast to be cooked by a chef in whites wearing a proper chef’s hat. Why not?

Coincidentally another nurse has just been in for yet another check and she has noted the fact that I want brown sauce with my breakfast and will add it to the manifest. Swat I call service. This check was to see if I’d had the blood sugar “done”. The previous related blood cross matching. At least I think that’s how Ty described it. 

I’ve also decided to properly get dressed this morning. Might even have a shave. Figured I wouldn’t shave yesterday as it was the medical equivalent of a match day and you may know that I never shave on a match day. All a new adventure in the life of Tref. Funny to think that getting dressed is something you have to think about. My chavvy tracksuit bots beckon. 

Actually the tracky bots are proper Cotton Traders ones that might grace a gym or rugby field and not the stripey satiny jobs on show in Tesco and the high street so I doubt anyone will raise an eyebrow. Showing my colours now. Navy blue.

Also just noticed that the dangly tubes sticking out of the cannula are now neatly clipped onto the bit of plastic attached to the needle. Must have been done by one of the nurses. Quite possibly the one who topped up the antibiotics in my arm as she used the cannula. Should have spotted it before but at least now I know.

Annoyingly, I can’t remember her name. She is also doing her family tree and we had a nice chat on the subject.

A blow by blow account of hospital life with only the deets of the operation missing as not only would they be too gory, some of us being v squeamish, but also I was not conscious at the time. Doubt they’d have let me take my dirty laptop in anyway. Excuse me but was that a scalpel or a forceps? Tap tap tap. Wouldn’t have had anywhere to prop up the laptop anyway.

Switched the Radio 4 news on and landed right in the middle of Thought for the Day. Aargh. Turned the volume down temporarily. I don’t even like listening to the news but it is a bit of background noise. Not long until breakfast now.

…

Rapid progress here. Xray done – see pic.  Physios have signed me off to go home. However Rob is picking me up tomorrow, THG has gone to Uncle Bill’s funeral in Liverpool and there are still drugs to be dispensed and tests to be made. Also seeing Mr M tonight when he’s finished cutting.  I’m not going anywhere. Not often I get to stay in a Presidential Suite. There are two apaz. The other is called the Royal Suite. Probs. I made that one up. The receptionist made the Presidential Suite up though other members of staff have confirmed it to be the case.

Back in the suite a cup of tea has arrived and then I will commence the cleansing. SSS. My first post op job, so to speak.

The three esses have been seen to, I’m dressed (blessed are the dressed) and sat comfortably in my usual armchair. Feel much better for the shower and clean clothes. Next up infusion of antibiotics and then they will remove the cannula. It’s starting to get in the way now. No more plastic stickers found on my body.

Overhearing a conversation in the corridor re someone else’s hip – “it’s not dislocated but moved slightly”. Mine seems to have all gone to plan and I’m told my recovery is better than the average. yay, hooray, bravo etc. Still a long way to go but the perceived wisdom is fully recovered in 6 weeks time. It will take longer to get to full strength I’m sure but all heading in the right direction. Phew. No fat lady singing sounds yet. One step at a time, literally.

Having the suite door open is good for a change. Lots of sounds of people. Things being wheeled around. Not just beds and chairs. Lots of trolleys. A member of staff just walked past sliding her shoes along. Before I could see who it was I thought it must be a punter but no. Come on love, walk properly.

Been having good chats with the staff. It’s “me duck” around here just like in Lincoln and dinner, not lunch. I am able to simultaneously translate, multilinguist that I am. Chicken Ceasar Salad ordered with bananas and honeycomb ice cream for pud. Yup. The honeycomb comes recommended.

Bit sore this pm. Ramping up the pain killers that I’ll be taking home. They’ve been giving me one does at a time to see what is needed. Looks like all of them. Spent the morning in the chair and the afternoon on the bed.

Suspect they will also be giving me the laxative at some stage – don’t want to put you off. At least my forearms appear to have stopped itching. The antiviral shower gel they gave me to use for 5 days before the op was quite abrasive stuff and gave me a dose of eczema on the arms. Never had it before. Gone now. Sgood innit.

Spent much of the afternoon doing family tree stuff. There really are only two sources of information for the times I am looking at. One is through church related publications and the other is based on stuff written about the gentry. We are defo the former and I have a clue about a marriage that could hook me up with estate owners. I’m trying to firm up on this but not yet got the right amount of evidence. These estate owners were also v religious which is a help and is likely to be how the “happy couple” met.

Stay tuned. Might be a while yet.

In other news the Caesar salad was a bit heavy on the olives but I guess that comes with the territory. Banana was on the small side and not totally ripe but hey… I’m not complaining.  Tonights delicacy is “Chunky Cottage Pie, the chunkiness being down to the use of braised steak instead of mince. Posh ere…

There is news. After pottering around on my laptop for a goodly chunk of  time this morning a nurse, who shall remain nameless mainly because I’ve seen a lot of them and I can’t remember her name, collected me to “walk” to the radiology department for an xray. Mr M wanted some measurements taking which sounds sensible to me (nurse I’ll have the ¾” stem with flange support please).

One quick flash later, so to speak, and another nurse intercepted out gentle limp back to the room and said they were ready for me. Scalpels sharpened, hacksaw cleaned and disinfected from the previous project.

Didn’t have much time to think about it and I was soon sat on the edge of a bed waiting for Dr Brown the anaesthetist to rock up. A good lad. The plan, as you know, was an injection into the spine. Problem was old Dr B couldn’t find the way in. Kept hitting bone. After me doing an impression of a pin cushion for 5 mins or so we decided that rather than risk hitting a nerve or similar I’d have a general anaesthetic.

This worked well. There were no problems and had the benefit of me being totally unaware of what was going on. I woke up a couple of hours later somewhere that wasn’t the operating theatre and made it back to the room perhaps thirty mins later. No idea really of timeframes.

There followed a string of visitors, taking measurements, making notes and, importantly, bringing my BLT, cup of tea and two packs of Bourbon biscuits. I repeat, two packs of Bourbon biscuits. Physiotherapy followed and I am proud to say that with the aid of crutches I was able to walk out of the room to the other side of the corridor and back. A princely distance of ten to twelve metres.

I then sat on the edge of the bed and had a wee into a cardboard bottle, as you do. Took me ages. Won’t go into the details  but I suspect all the stuff they’ve been pumping into my body was a contributory factor. Ws ok once it got going, started to flow so to speak. Nurse Julie then took this away and weighed it. They are monitoring fluid input and output.

Julie also brought me another pot of tea and a third packet of Bourbons declaring that this was their last pack of said biscuits. Don’t believe her. Will put it to the test later on. Digestives would be an acceptable alternative.

At four pm I feel that recovery is underway. Clearly the hip is going to take some time but I’m gaining a little more confidence that the process will be speedier than first thought.

More as I think of it or as it happens, ish.

Nurse Flo breezed in, at ten past two in the morning, wheeling the apparatus of her trade before her! Blood pressure monitor, pulse  monitor, stuff like that. Actually I don’t really know what her name was. The light she switched on was dazzling and I’d just been woken up. Then she said “ah you haven’t had your operation yet. I don’t need to do you until the morning”. She switched the light off and left. I took a swig of water and went back to sleep.

Six thirty and I’m listening, ish, to the wireless. Had me shower. Gowned up and ready.

Under the knife at 9.45. 2nd on. Nurse has been around. Anaethetist has been round. I now have two hours to kill. Guess it could have been worse. Could have been on later this afternoon.

I have to say I am a little apprehensive, as much as anything about the post operative recovery process but I am in the hands of the best in the business and the hip does badly need doing (as opposed to needs doing badly). The surgeon, Mr Manktelow, is very clinical, excuse the pun so it should be ok.He has been round. Put an arrow on my right thigh. Says the ink will disappear in between a year and eighteen months!

Outside it is a grey February day. The sloping rooftop I see through the window has multiple aerials silhouetted against the sky. They certainly aren’t all TV aerials. Who uses a TV aerial these days. Mind you we have one inside our roofspace. A legacy from the days of dial up internet access. A time where websites would sometimes take minutes to load.

A window cleaner has just rocked up and brushed my window with one of those long brushes that squirt water. All the drips now need wiping off. I wonder if they bother.

This morning is a time for calmness and relaxation to get mentally prepared.

BLT ordered for when I get out of theatre btw. With a sachet of brown sauce.

Apaz the injection makes you numb from just below the breast plate down. The process is a needle in the wrist to relax you. Then a local anasthetic at the base of the spine before injecting the main anaesthetic. At some stage they also give you something to make you drowsy so that you are only half awake 

…

Well I know this is boring mundane stuff to most of you but there is an update. Have stopped taking tea and bourbons – don’t want to spend half the night going to the loo and my blood sugars rocketed albeit temporarily. It isn’t something I normally look at. In fact I don’t normally look at anything except the occasional inspection of the bathroom scales.

My second postoperative wee was performed in the bathroom. Progress. Still into the cardboard flask so they can measure it. I assume they chuck the flask away afterwards!  Wossgoinon I hear you say? Bathroom? Where else would it be, apart from the hedge when camping n simlar. You already know about this afternoon sat on the bed.

So far I just walked to the wall outside the door so going to the bog is therefore big news.  Not that it’s any further. Just different. More progress.

Then Mr M came in for a quick chat and to say tata for the day. Asked me if I’d been doing the exercises and I informed him that’s what I was doing when he came in. I showed him. More he said, more. So I did more and after he’d left continued on a fairly regular basis even during phone calls.

Wow what a difference. I can already bend that knee far more than at anytime during the last few months. Yet more progress. I am pretty bullish that this op is going to make a mahoosive difference. It’s only when you lose it that you realise how important mobility is.

Now sat in the armchair watching Man City v Real Madrid. Sort of. Really I’m writing this. Occasionally a nurse will pop in for something. Keep having to remember new names. They do wear a badge. Badges. Man City just scored. Unlike some I support UK based teams when they play in Europe whereas others might do otherwise especially if the club is a rival back home.

So it’s been a fairly momentous first day at the Park Hospital. Second if you count the complimentary stay last night. Momentous day in my life really. The next challenge is to get fully fit again and make sure I take advantage of the regained mobility. And I’m not just talking about walking to the pub.

The other near term challenge is to get through tonight. I’m supposed to sleep only on my back. Ole Mr M doesn’t want to stress the joint for the first few days. I normally sleep on my side as apaz, and I totes dispute this, I have a tendency to snore when lying on my back. Huh. Anyway, see how it goze. I’ll let you know obvs. If I remember.

Typing in hospital does present some challenges. The plastic name band on my right wrist keeps catching on the edge of the macbook.  My left hand has a cannula sticking out of the back with loose tubes that move about in a mildly irritating dangly fashion as the hand traverses the keyboard. First world problems. They’ve taken the band off my left ankle. Can’t remember its purpose but something important obvs. Probably just said “left”. Even top surgeons can get mixed up sometimes yanow. Maybs.

Gonna be another busy day tomorrow. More physio n stuff unknown. Have ordered a full English to start the day. Set meself up for the activity that will naturally follow. I am given to understand that I will also be able to take a shower as the covering to the stitches is waterproof. We will see how that one goes.

I guess I’m going to have to learn to dress myself at some point and tomorrow seems like a good time to start. Not allowed to bend the hip yet so no bending down but have one of those grabbers so that might do the job. Unsure whether it is a pyjama day or tracksuit. I look pretty chavvy in the tracky bots but hey who cares. It’s all about comfort right now, man.

Thassenough for now. Ciao amigos.

A February wind blows no good. Stay warm. This is the time of year to be at your villa in da Caribbean. Come back when the land wakes up, when new growth brings hope. 

Let’s hope we have a good harvest this year. The coffers still have plenty from last season but inroads are gradually being made into the store. Levels are slowly decreasing. I’m thinking blackberries here.

I am writing this stuff whilst listening to music on hold which now getting a bit repetitive. Occasionally there is a pause making you think that you are about to be out through to someone but thus far the only outcome has been a message asking me to “please stay on the line and we will put you through to one of our team as soon as we can, thanks for holding”. Eight and a half minutes thus far. My record is well over an hour queuing. American Airways. Airlines? Them anyway.

Took until nearly seven o’clock to finally get the authorisation code from the health insurance company. They approved it once and seemed to have cocked up somewhere along the line. All’s well that ends well.

…

My out of office is on most of the time but it really is on for the next few days. There’s an old Tony Hancock joke that talks about hospital food always being mince and in fact there is chunky cottage pie on the menu here. I, however, had Seared Chicken Breast served on a bed of Crushed Potatoes, Honey and Mustard Carrot and Parsnip, Kale with a Rich Jus. Their capitalisations. Apple crumble and custard to finish. All good fair play. No sign of any chips though I will double check for tomorrow night. Probs can’t guarantee to keep them hot.

No brekkie tomorrow though and not even any liquids after midnight as I recall. I’ll have to check that one. Just did. Last fluids 6am.

Got an Uber here in the end. It was crap weather and didn’t see why THG should have to spend 2 ½ hours in the car especially as our Tom was arriving at four from da smoke. The Uber driver was very much into cryptocurrency fwiw. Bitcoin is currently at ninety seven thousand he told me. Dollars I said.

I’m now chillin in the Presidential Suite at the hospital. My name is on the door. I had to sign a piece of paper saying it was ok to have my name on the door. Presidential Decree. I’ve had a procession of nurses coming in and out. Mostly doing stuff they would otherwise have to do in the morning but it did include taking blood samples so that they have my blood type on standby tomorrow in case it’s needed! The nurses all go home at eight, which is about now. I assume they must leave someone on duty. “Your turn Doreen.” Florence.

The other punters all arrive at seven tomorrow morning. I figured a relaxed evening in the Presidential Suite was going to be a lot easier than not getting any sleep at home wondering whether the alarm clock was about to go off and then setting off at five thirty. Arriving the night before defo avoids the crush at rush hour. Think of the melee in reception. Tripping over each others’ crutches and walking sticks.

Not worked out transportation home. Taxi for sure. Maybs an Uber. Don’t know when yet. Depends on recovery time. THG has to go to her Uncle Bill’s funeral. I’d have liked to have gone. UB was, when in the prime of life, an all in wrestler. He and I used to get on v well. Ended his career as a welder in the Birkenhead shipyards. The Rose and Crown in Bebington was a particular favourite of his. Great pub. Worth the trip. You can take in The Lady Lever Art Gallery in Port Sunlight at the same time.

The times they are a changing. The old guard moving on. RIP Uncle Bill.

In the meantime it is too early to think about going to bed. There is a telly in the suite but I very rarely turn on the telly when staying in a Presidential Suite. Prefer the hot tub and room service. Just checked. No hot tub here. That’s ok. I’ll just spend my time writing out Executive Orders.

I might even read a bit more of my book. Rebecca Riots.

How do you like your eggs in the morning? Just heard a short burst of the song on the Paddy O’Connell show on the wireless and now I can’t get it out of my head. Slightly annoying. I’m not even having eggs for breakfast. If I did they would either be poached or fried, sunny side up depending on how I feel, but I’m not.

Turned Paddy off anyway. All he talks about is politics, mostly. THG likes his prog.

…

Wearing thin summery socks in these last few days before the op. Saving my winter woolly ones for afterwards. They will be easier to get on post op as I won’t be able to bend for a while and I’ve got this contraption that supposedly helps with putting socks on. Karen said it was rubbish and no use when she had the same op but it’s all I’ve got. I’ve also got tracksuit bottoms (v chavvy) and some sort of loose fitting cotton kecks plus two “grabbers” we had left over from Beyond The Woods that would come in handy.

A cold and miserable February morning out. Thank gawd for central heating and double glazing. I don’t know what the weather is like in Rome but the odds are against it being anything but miserable if you are a travelling Welsh rugby supporter. And I am normally an optimist. Glass half full. At least they can go and get blessed by the Pope on Sunday morning and buy some tatty souvenirs. Rome knows how to milk tourists. V expensive as I recall.

Anyway back in a cold and miserable Lincoln the kitchen is at least brightly lit. THG busies herself. I need to decide on breakfast choices. Perhaps a simple bacon and mushroom sandwich on sourdough toast. Elegance. With a fresh pot of tea. That shall be it. The breakfast of kings. 

There is a choice of bacon: dry cured back, smoked back and unsmoked streaky. I have opted for the smoked and it is currently under the grill. Not fried. The bacon has been started before the toast as the latter takes less time to grill. We no longer have a functioning toaster and although it is still in place on the worktop this will be remedied at the earliest opportunity. The recycling centre beckons.

I was umming and ahing whether to indulge in a glass of beer or two during the rugby this afternoon. Big op forthcoming on Tuesday. A decision has been made to go for it. The last session with this hip. Who knows what lies beyond.

Bacon sarnie was good. Cup of tea was good. Let’s get ready for the day ahead.