Blimey, our local health trust is good. I phoned on Tuesday morning for an appointment and was offered one, with the doctor I asked for, at 3 o’clock the same afternoon, which disconcerted me a bit as I thought we’d shilly-shally around possible times/days for a few minutes and then agree I’d have to ring back in a day or two. This wasn’t for any dramatic reason, just that he’d suggested I call in every few months to say how I was getting along and I last visited a year ago. This sounds dilatory on my part but isn’t really. He sort of wants you to have something to say, even if he hasn’t made that clear. So I waited until I did.
In the summer, hip was fine, could dance until dawn and all that, but since October has been not so good, thus demonstrating that cold wet weather is not good for arthritis. Sometimes I limp heavily, which worries others more than myself. So I asked if this might strain my spine, knee and other hip. Sensible question, you see, and he suggested I self-refer to the physiotherapist at the local cottage hospital.
Next day, the Sage took the form in.
Next day (this morning, in fact) I was phoned offering an appointment on Monday.
Gosh. A bit fast for something completely non-urgent (and under the NHS, not privately). I’m terribly impressed.
Except, I don’t actually care for this sort of thing. And it’s suggested that I wear loose-fitting trousers (well, I ‘might be more comfortable in’) or shorts. Shorts? I don’t possess any. And the only loose-fitting trousers I have are those I have shrunk out of, and they aren’t the sort of thing it means. I am scruffy, but rarely casual. Fortunately, Weeza has a pair of what, apparently, are called ‘jogging bottoms’ (?) which she bought for yoga when quite newly pregnant. So they had room for growth. And I’m a size smaller than she was (how come she was slender while I am still pudgy? Damn short-arsedness!) Anyway, she’s not only offered them to me, but invited us over for Sunday lunch to pick them up. So that’s splendid on all accounts.
And I’m perfectly fit and well, just a bit limpy. And the doctor suggests, obliquely, for we understand what we mean when we don’t quite say (this is fine, it’s a ‘same sort of people’ thing) that I wait at least 5 years for a new hip if I can. So it’s in my best interests to remain unattractively fit and become gorgeously slim. Size 10 now, size 8 beckons.
6 months in Northern Quensland should sort you out Z.
What, where there are floods, Rog? And crocodiles? Thank you, sweetheart. I think the world of you too.
There’s no beer there either, apparently. Trust the hip isn’t too painful?
Rog has my best interests at heart I daresay. Mind you, so long as the whisky doesn’t run out I’ll be okay.
Oh, and no thank you, I’m fine. The extent to which it hurts I’m used to and I don’t let it bother me. It’s also a splendid excuse for asking someone else to carry heavy stuff.
Shorts? Have you read about fweng’s visit to the physio?
No, Adelaide is better, no floods and 120F in the shade…lovely. Ahem. (I’m dying)
I’m amused about the shorts. Hot pants? Or those knee length baggy ones?
Thank goodness for Weeza’s jogging bottoms.
I’m sure one could say something cheeky about people with jogging bottoms, but the thought would never cross my mind, of course.
I understand that giving up wine is good for the diet.
And all on the good ol’ NHS, eh? I’m moving tp Norfolk!
Fweng has certainly taught me to be prepared for all eventualities. Short of shorts, that is, but I will wear elegant underwear. As I always do of course.
My legs are so short that hot pants are just about knee length. There’s a matter of inches between my knees and my bottom, jogging or not.
Dave, there is no question of my giving up wine. Unless, of course, the doctor advises it but he says I’m fine and don’t drink too much.
Indeed, Dotterel. Impressive, isn’t it?
I’m sure you’ll look gorgeous!
mon plesir
Mwah, darlings
Hope you find some relief. I know of what you speak.
Indeed you do. Thank you.
Z, get off the computer and go to bed! Hee hee.
What? *blush* oh, all right then. Goodnight…
Size 10!? I’m green with envy.
If you reduce to a size 8 you’ll fade away.
Actually, it is a good idea to put off hip replacement as long as possible. My friend in the next village has had one of her replacements replaced (she’s nearly 80 now) and it was not a pleasant experience.
Well, I’ve got a size 12 dress from the early 70s and it’s by no means too big for me. Sizing has changed over the years. And I’m rather less, er, taut than I used to be! I still weigh well over 9 stone and I’d rather be under.
Yes, that’s the thing. It’s a matter of evaluating when you’re not able to get about so well now against it not lasting you out. And techniques are improving, so in another few years it may be a different and better operation.