A Summer in Sandals

Doesn't time fly? Slowly sometimes, but it flies.

Three months ago today I had my discectomy operation - I was probably lying in bed at this time of night with my morphine machine on the fifth floor of Chelsea and Westminster hospital wondering what the Holy Flying Mackerel were doing outside the ward door... drugs do strange things to the brain. What a strange summer I've had on the road to 'normality' again. I'm almost there, probably another corner or two to turn but close enough that I could get off the bus and walk if need be.

June was rather painful and tiring, with lots of sleeping, just not for any long periods of time - the pills started off working for about four hours after which I'd wake up, but that period gradually extended. I didn't do much except buy music online.

July was when I started getting bored and could get out and about a bit, gradually going further afield for longer periods. That made me tired quite quickly, but it was a good tiredness. I discovered swimming even though I was a bit self-conscious about the scar. I also discovered I had a beard.

August saw a lot more activity and I went back to work. I still got tired but felt the need to push myself a bit. I also started my weekly physio classes. I learned to use my scar as a barometer - so long as it was indented then I was fine, but if it began to swell I should rest. I started going out more as I became less worried about people getting close to my back and the wound - that is, until people start getting close to it. That paranoia will go over time, I suppose. Amanda gave me good slink. I started weaning myself off the pills.

I have worn shoes only once since 5 June. An entire summer in sandals is a nice feeling but that will have to come to an end as the weather changes and I become more able to put shoes on. It's still a bit painful bending to tie shoelaces but I've got a few work appointments next week that would be unsuitable for a sandal-wearing hippy approach so I'll just have to grin and bear it for the minute it takes to put them on and the few minutes for the pain to subside. The whole grin-and-bear it thing is most odd - whenever I'm asked how I am I smile and say 'fine', especially when I'm not.

So, what was all the fuss about? I've meant to put up a photo of my scar a few times but have resisted the temptation. I can resist no more. Here it is with a bit of bum-crack so you can position it properly. It's about 3" long and is still a bit too red for my liking but I'm told it's healing well. The mark to the right is where the 'drain' was, a pipe that was attached to a plastic bag so the bigger bits of calcified disc left inside me could exit while I was lying in bed (it'll take about 18 months for it all to disintegrate and leave). This photo is minutes old so you're right up to date with the healing process [sick bags are just over there if you need one].

How did I celebrate my three-month anniversary? By going back to hospital of course, you big silly! For a liver scan. You don't think I'm just a slipped disc do you? There's lots more of me to go round!