tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86852358023418586022024-02-07T06:13:52.098-08:00Artificial Disc Replacement - Back2LifeAt the age of 47 after 6 years of struggling with back pain that had severely impacted my life, I decided to have ADR surgery.
I got my new disc on 28th Nov 2011 from my brilliant surgeon (and hero) David Harrison and to occupy my days of recovery I decided to write this blog.
If you want to read my full journey then start reading from Day 1.Back2Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16233457447577444767noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685235802341858602.post-34563918248423487652013-02-06T09:05:00.002-08:002013-02-07T06:41:14.763-08:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>November 28, 2012 - A date with David!</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nothing gets me more excited than having a date in the diary with David Harrison. In a medical sense one could say he is my perfect date.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But today, whilst exciting as always, had a melancholic undertone as I knew that this was destined to be my last date with the great man (wistful sigh).</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You see November 28th was my back's first birthday. It was a year to the day when I allowed my body to be opened up by David and for him to give me an amazing gift that will hopefully last a lifetime, my wonderful artificial disc. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And a year down the line here I was striding confidently into his office flushed with pride at how well I had recovered, and then sitting down like a docile, old labrador waiting for a pat of approval. Woof woof.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I came armed with my latest X Rays and the good news was that my range of movement through the artificial disc was virtually at the level of the real disc, and in time David thought that there was no reason it wouldn't achieve the same. My flexibility was much improved and my abdominal strength was largely recovered. Tick, tick and tick.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I found myself beaming uncontrolably like a veritable Cheshire cat, but who wouldn't at this news? You go into this operation hoping above everything that it will be the cure, but I'm sure we all secretly harbour a fear that not only will it not be the cure, but that it could actually make things worse. I certainly did. So to be told by the big guy that in the nicest possible way he never wanted to see me again, because I was cured, was sweet, sweet music to my ears.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I can honestly say I feel cured. And I knew when I walked in there that this was the end of the road. Because when I wake up in the morning now, my first thought is never about my back. A year ago it always was. Every day.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">People probably think that being able to do the really active things again is what makes it so worthwhile, but for me it's actually the normal things that have made the real difference. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Going out to a restaurant without my trusty cushion! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Watching a 3 hour movie without having to nip to the loo </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">halfway through to rub some freeze gel into my back. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Being able to stand all evening at a gig and dance without fear (although admittedly my dancing probably induces fear to those in the immediate vicinity...). </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Getting on a plane without the aid of medication or alcohol and being able to help my family with the suitcases! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Having sex without worrying about doing myself an injury (not exactly helpful thoughts...) :-)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Being able to go on a long car journey without stopping in a lay-by to stretch. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrying shopping bags home from the supermarket...I could go on, but you get the idea.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Okay so I admit I haven't yet walked onto a tennis court. But theoretically there is no reason why I couldn't. The only thing that's stopping me is my mind. Because what they don't tell you when you have an operation like this is that your mental condition has to be cured too, not just your physical one. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You have to rebuild your confidence and its a fragile thing and in my case its actually taken longer than my body and I'm still not there yet. I had some back pain about 2 months ago and my immediate reaction was...shit! Its all gone wrong!! But of course it hadn't, it was just the normal aches and pains that anyone of my age gets. I know that I'm getting there and I'm sure that in 2013 I will hit a tennis ball again. I'm in the gym every week and my progress is good.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I often get people </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">who are considering having the operation </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">emailing me or calling me and asking me whether I can recommend it. Well of course I can!! For me it was an absolute, bloody miracle. And if I ever developed the same condition again (god forbid) I would be down to David's surgery rolling over and having my tummy tickled in a shot. No question. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But it's a real responsibility being asked for an opinion like that. I can't make your mind up for you, because I don't know what your circumstances are. Don't get me wrong I'm only too happy to try and help people in the same situation I was in, because I would have loved it if there had been someone there for me. So I can tell you about my hugely positive experience and what to expect in the days and weeks after the operation, and I hope that's useful. Because I know when I was trying to find some positive stories before my operation they were few and far between, and the negative ones outweighed them, and that made the decision harder. It's human nature I understand that, we like to moan, and moan loudly! But when things go well we just get on with life and move on, because life is about living. And that's what I'm doing because I have no excuse not to any more. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So here I am, a year older and a year wiser. And a year happier.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wish everyone out there an outcome as good as mine, and one thing I can say with absolute confidence, David Harrison is the man. Don't even think about looking elsewhere.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Good luck and good backs!!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Back2Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16233457447577444767noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685235802341858602.post-7461381326307841022012-03-24T08:32:00.001-07:002012-03-24T08:33:05.885-07:00Do you want the good news or the bad news?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; line-height: 19px;">It's been nearly 4 months since my op and the good news is that yesterday I was signed off by David Harrison.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; line-height: 19px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; line-height: 19px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; line-height: 19px;">He's happy, I'm happier, everybody's happy. Result!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; line-height: 19px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; line-height: 19px;">The X Rays look great and the disc has been embraced by my spine like a long lost friend you don't want to lose touch with again.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; line-height: 19px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; line-height: 19px;">I can't tell you how uplifted I feel...well ok I can...I'm VERY uplifted!!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; line-height: 19px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; line-height: 19px;">The sun is shining brightly today, it's 20 degrees, Spurs grabbed a point in the London derby and my back feels GREAT! Happy, happy Days.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; line-height: 19px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; line-height: 19px;">David said that he'll see me again in November to chat about all the amazing things I'll have done during the summer!!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; line-height: 19px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; line-height: 19px;">The bad news to end this post is the tragedy that happened this week. I am of course talking about Nick Boeree's death. I met Nick a few months ago and I was actually originally scheduled to have my op done by him, but I decided to use David as he was much closer to home. It's unbelievably sad and such a loss. You feel so indebted to your surgeon when you go through a procedure like ADR and I know there must be so many patients of Nick's who are feeling just stunned this week.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; line-height: 19px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; line-height: 19px;">My thoughts and prayers are with his wife and children and to everyone who owe their recovery to this talented man.</span></span><br />
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</span></span>Back2Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16233457447577444767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685235802341858602.post-52646842492168591502012-02-20T15:19:00.000-08:002012-02-20T15:19:18.164-08:00Week 12 - My Everest climbed.Week 12. I'm finally there.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.mountainsoftravelphotos.com/ReferenceImagesF/Everest%20First%20Ascent%20-%20Sir%20Edmund%20Hillary%20Iconic%20Photo%20Of%20Tenzing%20Norgay%20On%20Everest%20Summit%20May%2029%201953.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://www.mountainsoftravelphotos.com/ReferenceImagesF/Everest%20First%20Ascent%20-%20Sir%20Edmund%20Hillary%20Iconic%20Photo%20Of%20Tenzing%20Norgay%20On%20Everest%20Summit%20May%2029%201953.jpg" width="301" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">At the top of Everest.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://historyofspacetravel.files.wordpress.com/2010/11/apollo11-21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://historyofspacetravel.files.wordpress.com/2010/11/apollo11-21.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Stepping foot on the moon.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Relieved but exhilarated. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm looking down at a world of possibilities. A life that's ahead of me and not just in the past.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A world where I can still be anything I want to be. Where I can still do anything I want to do. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But a world where I'm a better man. A happier man. And a man with a great story to tell for anyone who is willing to listen.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's time to finally say goodbye to my old life.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm not going back. I have a new back. This is the first day of the rest of my life.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Give the man a cigar.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Back2Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16233457447577444767noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685235802341858602.post-42320209550163724252012-01-23T14:48:00.000-08:002012-01-23T14:54:40.825-08:00Day 54 - oh that's an excellent half century!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Well on the day my ADR innings has gone past 50, I couldn't let the occasion pass by without at least one cricket quote. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">The incomparable Richie Benaud once said sagely..."I think the batsman's strategy will be to make runs and not get out". Wise words indeed.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">So I shall be continuing with that strategy and I will try not to get out. Not quite yet anyway. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">In my last mini-post I gave my eager reader the opportunity to contact me. So yesterday I got an email asking how the furry invalid was. I stupidly assumed that they were asking after me until I read it again and realised that I am not in the least bit furry. There was clearly only one explanation (I've been watching Sherlock intently you see...), they were asking after my dog. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Well it was kind of them to ask, BUT WHAT ABOUT ME? HUH?!!</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU0aSyoASNzWkQSMYiQf6DQ7QGWffNy_k5qa0_QLaYpSxZR1zEdlCbi8FFAHmFGv5KzoQv7edXkIEausPqkZQPxUSiwb913cZ3d1xJJFhARzbyU-wJfYvpvme_n66SVp0cEHH4zdki7_U/s1600/P1020574.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU0aSyoASNzWkQSMYiQf6DQ7QGWffNy_k5qa0_QLaYpSxZR1zEdlCbi8FFAHmFGv5KzoQv7edXkIEausPqkZQPxUSiwb913cZ3d1xJJFhARzbyU-wJfYvpvme_n66SVp0cEHH4zdki7_U/s400/P1020574.JPG" width="300" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Well I am pleased to report that Brody our dog is getting much better thank you. After a few days when he became some sort of schizophrenic monster he seems to have turned a corner and his good-natured dopeyness has once again come to the fore. But I must say it's kind of nice to have another invalid around the place. I mean that in the nicest possible way.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Here is a photo of his leg for your delectation. I note with some guilty satisfaction that his stitches are nowhere near as neat as mine. Now I told him that he should go to David Harrison but he ignored my advice. He's a very stubborn mutt.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">But to his credit he is already significantly faster around the house than me, despite the fact that he is missing the use of one of his legs. That makes me feel a bit rubbish really. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">He can also still cock his bad leg on a lamppost or a suitable shrub. I've not tried that one yet but i'm pretty sure I would struggle with that too. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">The only problem when I take him out for a little walk (or as it is currently known the three legged hop) is that I have to make sure that I walk on the right hand side of the road. That way his bad leg (which is his hind right leg) is nearest to the bushes. So when he wants to relieve himself he can happily cock his bad leg in the traditional manner. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">But if I make the schoolboy mistake of walking on the left hand side of the road then his good leg is nearest the bushes. So when he wants to cock his leg he ponders his dilemma for a moment but bizarrely seems to believe that he will be able to balance on two legs, and pee at the same time. So he continues to give it a go and tries to lift his good back leg only to realise once it's in mid air that his bad back leg is already suspended in the air...so suddenly he is basically doing a handstand. Uh oh. </span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://media1.break.com/dnet/media/2010/4/21/78%20Handstand%20Pee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="247" src="http://media1.break.com/dnet/media/2010/4/21/78%20Handstand%20Pee.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Now some smart ass dogs seem to have actually perfected this art. What a bloody show off. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Anyway the admirable way that Brody has dealt with his injury has got me thinking that dogs don't have an army of therapists that they can consult when something goes wrong...well at least the ones outside of California I mean. They just have to get on with it, however bad their problem is. And generally speaking they do a damn good job of it too. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">When Brody ruptured his cruciate ligament within 5 minutes he was desperately trying to chase the squirrels again, despite one of his legs pretty much hanging off. Bonkers but impressive.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">In comparison I was thinking today about all of the people that I went to see in the last 6 years to try and make my back better. The list is frankly ridiculous and makes me realise just how desperate I was. So here are the ones that immediately spring to mind. I know there are others but I just can't think of their names they are so damn obscure.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Chiropractor</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Osteopath</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Reflexologist</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Nutritionist</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Massage therapist</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Acupuncturist</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Cranial therapist</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Homeopath</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Physiotherapist</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Hypnotherapist</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Independent Financial Advisor</span></span><br />
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</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">The last one on that list I visited to try to work out how I was going to manage to pay for all the others. Because goddamn it the fees really do add up. I hate to think how much I spent over the 6 years. I could probably have bought a sensible family car, with comfortable seats of course.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Now don't get me wrong I am not demeaning these professions at all. And I know that some of these certainly seemed to do me some good, even if it was only temporary or even just in the mind. But in the end they couldn't cure me because I had a problem that simply wasn't going to get better. It was like I was trying to stop a very slow runaway train, it was a valiant effort but ultimately futile. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"> </span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">But perhaps I had to go through that long and at times immensely frustrating experience of seeking a 'cure' to finally come to the realisation that actually there really wasn't one, and that my appointment with David Harrison was basically the last chance saloon. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">And perhaps that is what makes how I feel now, so so sweet. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Because if it had been easier maybe I wouldn't fully appreciate just how good it is to be pain free. And dare I say it...ok I'll whisper it....cured. Maybe. Possibly. Hopefully. Cured.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">I'm like a dog with a huge bone. Very fucking content. Yep.</span></span><br />
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</span></span>Back2Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16233457447577444767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685235802341858602.post-89224006426501063222012-01-15T14:53:00.000-08:002012-01-15T14:53:51.805-08:00Day 46 - Sick as a dog...say hello!<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I had hoped to do a proper post this weekend but it's been a bit of a nightmare. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">No, sick as a dog isn't the fancy dress costume I jokingly referred to in an earlier post. This is a real dog and he's really sick. There's a serious dose of irony in there somewhere if you can be bothered to find it. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">My poor dog ruptured his cruciate ligament in one of his hind legs chasing squirrels last weekend and it left the leg completely useless. The options were either a permanent severe limp and the real prospect of the other leg going very soon too, or an operation which may restore full function. I guess my recent experience probably had some bearing in making a swift decision to go for the operation, which he had on Friday. But since we picked him up its been like having a very sick child, but worse, because however hard we try to speak dog we just can't make him understand that we're not torturing him on purpose. Where is Dr Doolittle when you need him?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">So anyway this explains why I am only able to type these few lines as he has finally conked out in complete exhaustion from the stress and I am swiftly following him.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">But before I go I've been meaning to do this for ages.</div><br />
For some reason Blogger doesn't appear to give you a way to let people contact you...which seems plain daft to me given the nature of blogging, so perhaps I'm just being thick.<br />
<br />
So anyway I've used some code from another site to add this Contact Me form below.<br />
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I've had a few people contact me from the ADRSupport forum, but if there is anyone else out there who would like to ask me any questions or just say hello it would be a pleasure to hear from you.<br />
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Suffice to say I will be more expansive in the next post...but for now good night.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="486px" name="zoho-Contact_me" scrolling="auto" src="https://creator.zoho.com/nikphilpot/contact-me/form-embed/Contact_me/g8OB18R2zdSRpTgHKtEDbvT1u8DjYjKufHa8EMRQrGWtFdv5r1pMpYGvdCMDjjG0fW85ReuGtuyDGxqBUuHFZzPebOww1M9REJdA/zc_SuccMsg=Thanks for taking the time to send me a message!" width="100%"></iframe>Back2Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16233457447577444767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685235802341858602.post-89127913238730813132012-01-12T15:18:00.003-08:002012-01-13T06:51:13.486-08:006 weeks - It's a Milestone Folks!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Yes sir! We got there! 6 weeks and counting. </span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I feel like I should have a couple of trumpeters standing behind me announcing the arrival of this day. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And not only was it my 6 week milestone, but also the check up with my hero David Harrison. But more of that later.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Firstly I think its time to reflect on where I've come from. Just over 6 weeks ago I was scared, no actually I lie, I was shit scared. Despite everything I still wasn't sure I was doing the right thing, but there was no going back. I'd finally come to the conclusion that I couldn't face a lifetime of pain, frustration, embarrassment, compromise and disappointment. </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Life is for living, not for enduring. I needed to start living again, I needed to be rebuilt.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Yes I was a man barely alive... but then I met David Harrison and he had a plan.<br />
<i><br />
“Gentlemen, we can rebuild him. We have the technology. We have the capability to make the world’s first bionic man. He will be that man. Better than he was before. Better. Stronger. Faster. And he will not need a cushion any more.” </i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://cdn2.hark.com/images/000/004/493/4493/original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="284" src="http://cdn2.hark.com/images/000/004/493/4493/original.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></span></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Yes, 6 weeks on I am the Bionic Man. I am Robocop, I am the Terminator, I am part man, part machine.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Ha! I can hear you giggling at me up the back of the class. I can feel you pinging elastic bands at my head and firing rolled up bits of wet paper out of your peashooter (ok I admit we are talking a class circa 1978). You want proof? Well I'll give you proof. I give you my bionic back.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ezL6gAIyGsvm95d-04NvoqBpu_e-pBXjt7Ur2Ly5rRYhuN-OVV6VdVOhPUw08jUZX7A6ID7Rhf2znNEguwRD_u7cFZhfmVZVDLCnRG8q93_cUpiaNE32rRqxb0cC61Co5-dNGr3dPY8/s1600/Spine2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ezL6gAIyGsvm95d-04NvoqBpu_e-pBXjt7Ur2Ly5rRYhuN-OVV6VdVOhPUw08jUZX7A6ID7Rhf2znNEguwRD_u7cFZhfmVZVDLCnRG8q93_cUpiaNE32rRqxb0cC61Co5-dNGr3dPY8/s640/Spine2.png" style="cursor: move;" width="448" /></span></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Isn't it fucking awesome. Glowing inside me like a beacon of hope. I love it...just a little bit mind, but I do love it. I never thought I could feel such affection for a small metal object. The only thing that came close to this was Blakeys.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://midcenturyantiques.net/mod/pga/files/blakey_s_shoe_protectors_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="237" src="http://midcenturyantiques.net/mod/pga/files/blakey_s_shoe_protectors_2.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></span></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">For those of you who never experienced the thrill of Blakeys they were crescent shaped bits of metal that you stuck on the heels of your shoes back in the day. No, really. When you walked down the road you felt like the proverbial dogs bollocks. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It was a bit like wearing tap dancing shoes, but with no effeminate connotations. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">With Blakeys you were hard. No question. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">People could hear you coming a mile away which was actually pretty useful. We used to gather at the local chippy and you knew when the lads that you wanted to avoid were approaching because you'd hear them 5 minutes before they arrived. It was a bit like the sound of the ants on Tom and Jerry. I remember we used to put Blakeys all over our shoes and then squat behind one of the older boy's mopeds and get them to drag us along the road to create sparks. Ah...I miss those simple, but dangerous pleasures.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Imagine my delight to find literally just 30 seconds ago that Blakeys still exist...www.blakeys-segs.co.uk. I urge you to treat yourself to some. Could anything else come close to making you smile so much for only £1.82? I think not.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But I digress, let's have a closer look at my bionic baby...</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp5L8Cf7P5kryhWbc7HMVA9uJvUBj9B7oLgwSbsckf8Nq5VSb1Vp2F23FmOpBsU7KUP7pXX_MxbFmJSCbZ00ptW4snvrTv7yToEhHjOklvL_vapqVZnyeZplSDzcBGaspeWLtBC5PIHM0/s1600/Spine3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp5L8Cf7P5kryhWbc7HMVA9uJvUBj9B7oLgwSbsckf8Nq5VSb1Vp2F23FmOpBsU7KUP7pXX_MxbFmJSCbZ00ptW4snvrTv7yToEhHjOklvL_vapqVZnyeZplSDzcBGaspeWLtBC5PIHM0/s400/Spine3.png" style="cursor: move;" width="337" /></span></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Yes it is the perfect sandwich. Who needs Jammie Dodgers when you can have a Blakey sandwich.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">What is fascinating is the way that the vertebrae have literally grown into the disc. David Harrison told me today that they coat the disc with a chemical that mimics bone cells, so all the real bone cells come and get together for a party on the surface of the disc. And they have so much fun that they decide to stick around and have lots of kids and the kids grow up and have lots more kids and before you know it you've got a whole new bone town. And I shall call it Harrisontown in honour of the great man.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So what did the great man have to say today? Well he told me that I was doing great. He said that complications if they happen are almost always in the first 6 weeks, so whilst I'm not out of the woods, I've stopped walking around in circles and I've found the path back to the car park. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">He even told me that I could be playing tennis this summer. Now that just blew my mind. I had given up all hope of ever playing tennis again. Even the thought of getting on a court makes me smile like an idiot, but it also makes me feel just a little scared again. On day 2 I said that I used to walk around expecting something bad to happen. And occasionally I still get that feeling. Is this really too good to be true? Can I really be cured? </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Well David said that the disc is now part of me. Hopefully forever. He truly has rebuilt me.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And I don't know exactly what the future holds, but I'm going to get some Blakeys tomorrow and I'm going to put them on a pair of shoes and I'm not going to wear those shoes until I can run down the road and yell at the top of my voice "I am Steve Austin. I am the bionic man. And I'm wearing Blakeys so don't mess with me."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Sweet.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times,'Times New Roman',serif;"><br />
</span></div>Back2Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16233457447577444767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685235802341858602.post-4243432519688586252012-01-05T10:37:00.000-08:002012-01-05T13:25:50.475-08:00Week 5 and a wee bit longer - Physio Update!A quick update for the one of you who was on the edge of your seat wondering what the physio had to say this afternoon.<br />
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Well, get in! Yes I'm officially allowed to get on my bike and ride...and go nowhere. But that'll do me and my tum nicely thank you.<br />
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Yes the physio gave me the green light to get on the exercise bike which is most excellent.<br />
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I've also got some new exercises! Who would have guessed that being given a bridge curl to do would inspire such excitement. But it does! No really!! I've been desperate to stretch out that lumbar spine and this will really hit the spot nicely.<br />
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I'm like the cat who got the cream or should I say the man who got the cat stretch. Did I say I'm allowed to do the cat stretch too? Well I can, and the swimming prep. Penny the Physio you spoil me.<br />
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To celebrate I'm off out to dinner and I will be able to sit and eat pain free for the duration. That's what I'm talking about! I knew 2012 was going to be a good year.<br />
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And it's only day 5.<br />
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See ya.Back2Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16233457447577444767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685235802341858602.post-3342175016121134762012-01-05T05:07:00.000-08:002012-01-05T10:12:55.686-08:00Week 5 and a bit - Happy New Back!Well a Happy New Year to you, and a happy new back to me.<br />
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This time last year my back had relapsed again just before a mercy trip to pick up my mother from the hospital. Not a good memory.<br />
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I think the best way of dealing with bad memories is to crowd them out with good ones. Now that's what I call a decent new year's resolution. It's taken me 48 years to come up with a sensible one. Things are clearly looking up!<br />
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2012 has a nice ring to it doesn't it? Or maybe 5 nice rings interlocked in a geometric design. Yes there's going to be no avoiding the Olympics this year. I wonder if it's too late to make a last ditch bid to be on the team? Probably. But at least this time round I will be able to jump up off the sofa and cheer on another famous British gold medal victory without worrying about putting my back out. There was something inherently depressing about having to be careful about the way that you celebrate. But hey, that's all behind me.<br />
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Either way I like the sound of years ending in an even number, odd ones sound...well odd.<br />
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But they say that the world is going to end in 2012, on the 21st December to be precise. I'm not sure exactly what time on the 21st, so don't sue me if you happen to be having a poo at the time. That's really not a good way to go, unless you're an Elvis fan I guess.<br />
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The whole premise for the world apparently ending on this particular Friday...whoa there did you say Friday! Err yes. How can the world possible end on the best day of the week? That would be a cruel, cruel joke...and we certainly won't be thanking God for that Friday if it happens that's for sure...<br />
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Anyway the premise originates from the ancient Mayan civilisation and their 5,125 year long calendar which apparently stops on December 21st 2012. Maybe they just ran out of pictures of busty ladies to fill the pages of their calendar, who knows.<br />
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But if the Mayans were so damn good at predicting things surely they'd have seen their downfall coming wouldn't they? Ha! You can't argue with that kind of fatuous logic.<br />
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So anyway do I think the world is going to end? No of course not. Do you think I would have put myself through ADR surgery and then have the prospect of spending months working hard on my rehabilitation to get back to decent fitness, only to be wiped out in a moment of apocolyptic madness? I think not.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Can't be too careful though.</div><br />
So here we are 5 weeks in. The big step forward this week was heading back to work. I've been advised to start part time and see how it goes so I'm doing mornings at first. You would have thought that going back to work would be a reason to be depressed but I felt positively uplifted as I walked through the door. Luckily our receptionist Jackie hadn't forgotten me. Good start! I was knackered by the end of the day though, but it felt good to be using my brain again. Little steps, but they are all in the right direction.<br />
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I've got physio today and I'm going to ask her whether I can start using a stationary bike. For the first time ever I've been developing a bit of a waistline. Its not something I've had to worry about before - yes I know, I'm a lucky bastard! - and its a little perturbing. I feel like I need to start getting my heart rate up. Walking is fine but I'm not sure how many calories its burning. Still I must be making good progress if the most I have to worry about is the size of my tum.<br />
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So here's wishing you all a great year ahead. I hope it will be as momentous as mine.<br />
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New year, new back. Bring it on!!Back2Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16233457447577444767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685235802341858602.post-15707900574736671552011-12-28T08:25:00.000-08:002011-12-29T06:36:33.691-08:00Month 1 - I believe in miraclesWell a belated Happy Christmas to you all, whoever you are out there. I hope your Christmas was as relaxed and relatively pain free as mine! No I don't mean pain free from relatives, I mean pain free from...oh you know what I mean.<br />
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Now at this time of year when people say they believe in miracles they are usually talking about the immaculate conception. But in this instance I am not. Granted the virgin birth would definitely be up there in the Top 10 miracles of all time, but in my chart ADR surgery is the highest new entry. And that's what we call backtastic pop-pickers.<br />
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Today is my one month milestone. So in the 12 week journey I am a third of the way there! Woo-hoo!! If there is a god then thanks be to him or her. Oh and David Harrison, he deserves another mention and a big fat cigar.<br />
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And the big news of the day, even bigger than the big, big news is that I am back in my car driving. Ok my journey wasn't far, a shortage of milk on Boxing Day meant a mercy dash to the local convenience store (admittedly I also couldn't resist the two for one offer on Kettle Crisps. Damn those BOGOF's!). But I drove and it was fine. A bit uncomfortable but hey, I can live with that. I used to drive a Morris Minor many moons ago so believe me I know what uncomfortable driving really feels like and it was nothing compared to that.<br />
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But anyway I digress....so guess what the first song was that I heard playing on my stereo in the car when I turned on the engine? "I Believe in Miracles" by The Jackson Sisters. Honestly, I kid you not.<br />
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Now you may may not be familiar with this sweet slice of rare groove from 1976, but I urge you to get it into your life...and I defy anyone not to move their booty to it...even a month post ADR surgery.<br />
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So how does my iPod know exactly what to play at just the right moment? Its actually rather spooky. I parked my car on the street in London a few months ago and the last song I was listening to before I turned off the engine was "Accidents can happen" by Elvis Costello. When I returned to the car some hours later a coach had decided to plough into the side of me. Not funny iPod. Not funny at all. I'm always a little worried when Adele's "Set fire to the rain" starts to play when I'm driving in the wet. Stranger things have happened, miracles even.<br />
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But getting back to the point. Here I am one month down the line after my operation and I feel damn good all things considered.<br />
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If anyone had said that this is how I was going to feel after a month I would have taken it every time.<br />
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I was convinced that I was going to be a complete wreck for months after the operation so to be walking, sitting, swimming (well kind of...), driving and most importantly laughing, just a month down the line is truly something to be thankful for.<br />
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The one other thing that I have been able to do is...err have sex. Now this is probably too much information for most of you (particularly my daughters) so feel free to skip this paragraph. But there is very little information on the internet about how long it is before you can have sex post-ADR surgery, so I think it's important to say something on the subject.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.mochadad.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/worlds-most-embarrassing-father.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.mochadad.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/worlds-most-embarrassing-father.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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Now I know at this point my girls will be screaming with embarrassment and saying "Dad please stop!!" but I feel that I owe it to anyone reading this who is considering having the operation or has got it scheduled to tell them that yes, sex is possible too, after a month. Not acrobatic that's for sure, in fact I would say that the word that feels most apt and describes the experience best is 'gingerly'. I'm not going to draw you a diagram, but suffice to say everything seems to work as it should. Cue the Jackson Sisters.<br />
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Before I had the operation I spent a lot of time on the web trying to research stuff like this and what I should expect to happen after the operation and to be honest what I found out was pretty patchy. I sleep on my side, for example. Nowhere could I find out if I would be able to do this after surgery. The answer, for me at least, was yes from day 1.<br />
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There are some wonderful support groups out there undoubtedly with lots of useful information, but I came to the conclusion that the majority of people who posted on those sites were those for whom surgery had perhaps not been that successful. Now there's no doubt that they need a lot of support and they have all my sympathy, but for somebody like myself who was approaching the operation I found that reading a lot of negative stories simply added to my worries. I read about things not going according to plan, of pain made worse and it just ended up scaring the shit out of me! Where were the success stories? Surely there had to be some. But then why would those people be there? They are living their lives again, probably the last thing on their mind would be to go on an ADR forum. So I was determined to write this blog and whatever the outcome to try and provide a balanced view of my experience, with a dash of humour of course. In my 'old life' pre-ADR I could feel the humour and the laughter being slowly sucked out of me and I was adamant that my 'new life' would see the return of who I really am. Welcome back, it's been a while.<br />
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I got an email from somebody yesterday who is scheduled to have an ADR operation in January and they were clearly having exactly the same doubts and worries that I went through. All I can say is that in my case this has been the best possible decision I could have made and my only regret is that I left it 6 years. I'm not saying that everybody has such a positive outcome but there are lots of us out there. And I'm guessing that we all believe in miracles.<br />
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Roll on 2012 it's going to be a good year.Back2Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16233457447577444767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685235802341858602.post-12103019563148082352011-12-20T05:19:00.000-08:002011-12-20T05:22:35.274-08:00Day 22 - Sticks and stonesWhoever said that sticks and stones may break your bones obviously had never had ADR surgery. Because for us it's clearly shoes and socks that are the troublemaker.<br />
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I literally laugh in the face of sticks and stones ha ha ha...but I run scared of shoes and socks (well ok, technically I walk slowly in the opposite direction).<br />
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There are two crucial milestones in the recovery from ADR surgery, 6 weeks and 12 weeks.<br />
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12 weeks is the daddy, because that's the point at which the bone has completely grafted to the artificial disc and in theory you should be able to use the disc as if it was one of your own. So roll on February 28th.<br />
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6 weeks though is important too because that's the point at which your rehab can step up a gear. I cannot wait for that point because I am being driven to distraction by being able to do, well sod all really.<br />
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So here we are at 3 weeks, which is halfway to 6 weeks, which is halfway to 12 weeks...or put another way I am a quarter of the way there. Bugger.<br />
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Before the operation I read about how frustrating the weeks immediately after the surgery could be and they weren't wrong.<br />
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One of the most annoying things is I can't put my own shoes on, unless they are slip on ones. I had to get my long suffering wife to tie my shoelaces this morning. I feel like I'm 4 years old again. As she was tying them I had a flashback to 1968, it wasn't exactly pleasant.<br />
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Even getting my socks on is like a military manoeuvre. I first get the socks. Check. Sports socks ideally as they are nice and slippy on the foot and not too tight (the beauty of one size fits all). Check. Roll the top of the sock down the length until it forms a kind of ring doughnut shape. Check. Drop socks to the floor. Check. <br />
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Ok now I have to get down on the floor. Check. Start by going down into a kneeling position...kind of like taking communion but without the bonus of free alcohol. Check. Then drop one hand to the side and slowly lower yourself to the floor. Check. Then roll over onto your back. Check. At this point I feel like my dog, waiting to have his tummy tickled. What a life.<br />
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Now gingerly lift each leg and slip the sock over the foot being really careful not to stretch too far. Check. Then grasp the top of the sock and slide slowly up leg. And then repeat on other leg. Check, check. About 10 minutes later I'm done. The satisfaction is limited and I'm knackered.<br />
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There must be a better way than this. What I need is some clever device to assist me...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_libzmxgGWv1qcbo9lo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_libzmxgGWv1qcbo9lo1_500.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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Ah yes! Now that looks suitably ridiculous. It looks like something you used to have outside your front door for the milkman to put your milk bottles in. Perhaps the decreasing use of the 'chirpy milkman' has led to a surplus of bottle holders. I know!! Let's resell them as "Sock Assisters for ADR Sufferers". Alan Sugar would be proud.<br />
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Oh now hang on, what about this one?<br />
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Good lord that is sleek, stylish...it is positively glamourous! I want one....now! Gimmee, gimmee, gimmee. No you idiot I'm being ironic. It looks like its been knocked up out of a bent coat hanger and that's being kind.<br />
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Well then how about this?<br />
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Yes indeedy, its an ingenious two-handed number. You literally spoon yourself into your sock. How chic!! Could you ever imagine that there could be so many wonderful varieties of sock assister?!<br />
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Or of course there is always the perennial favourite...the can is a bit of a giveaway though! Something tells me he is rather enjoying the experience a bit too much. Whereas she is looking rather bemused and thinking..."is this really what I signed up for?!"<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://img.thesun.co.uk/multimedia/archive/00620/SNF1828_682_620156a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="http://img.thesun.co.uk/multimedia/archive/00620/SNF1828_682_620156a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
One option of course would be to go without socks altogether.<br />
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My daughters are very keen on One Pieces. Basically a grown up baby grow if you're not familiar with this latest 'fashion'.<br />
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I'm not sure I would wear a traditional one piece, strangely I've always been rather sensitive about being laughed at. But on the other hand I've always been rather fond of fancy dress.<br />
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I think I have the answer...the "sick-as-a-dog" outfit would solve my shoes and socks dilemma and my obviously sick demeanour would still command sufficient sympathy from passers by. Sorted.<br />
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And if I play my cards right I may even get my tummy tickled. Woof!Back2Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16233457447577444767noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685235802341858602.post-58100033167334794412011-12-12T08:52:00.000-08:002011-12-12T10:11:59.436-08:00Day 14 - Tis the Season to be Jolly!Well that's easy for you to say, but if you're recovering from ADR surgery then it's the season to be stiff and sore and swollen. And just a little bit constipated. Sorry probably a bit too much information. Hope you weren't munching on a mince pie.<br />
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It's 2 weeks since surgery and I'm feeling ok. Not jolly, just ok. How can you possibly be jolly when your recuperation is plagued with the constant regurgitation of 'classic' Christmas songs?<br />
<br />
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not bah humbug or a grumpy old git when it comes to Xmas at all. I get teary eyed at the mere mention of Noel's Christmas Presents, and our hall has been decked with holly (well kind of..) for a week already. But the songs do wind me up.<br />
<br />
I grew up in probably the 'golden age' of Christmas songs. Slade, Wizzard, Greg Lake, Mud, John and Yoko, BandAid, and Wham, to just name a few...but the problem with that is it means I've had over 30 Christmases to hear these crackers (sorry couldn't resist)...over and over and over and over. By which time you are ready to kill more than just the turkey.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQATqKS8WBHw6zWGEhk4twzsosfk-Fxr2wnNTlNYcRY-juZME0hqtDvwyhnufb1L-NaTJNZnMIvVGBrzqsJj_NCW_tRfPOdu0ayQXi_3ZD9mHxCeBzHstoKqrtGZMr4s4uwFQcpRl9tzY/s1600/John+Lennon+Yoko+Santas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQATqKS8WBHw6zWGEhk4twzsosfk-Fxr2wnNTlNYcRY-juZME0hqtDvwyhnufb1L-NaTJNZnMIvVGBrzqsJj_NCW_tRfPOdu0ayQXi_3ZD9mHxCeBzHstoKqrtGZMr4s4uwFQcpRl9tzY/s400/John+Lennon+Yoko+Santas.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>"John you look a fucking twat..." said Yoko, looking for somewhere to hide.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
For my daughters, still in their teens , they can probably only remember about 10 years of Christmases, so these songs are still relatively fresh to them.<br />
<br />
But where are the new 'classics'? Where are the songs that they'll grow up with and then become acutely irritated to hear in a shopping centre in early October?<br />
<br />
Now I know what you're going to say...the Pogues and Kirsty MacColl. No, that was released in 1987 for god's sake!! And Kirsty has been dead for 11 years, RIP.<br />
<br />
Hang on do I hear a shout of Mariah Carey at the back? Well the sugary aural gymnastics of 'All I want for Christmas' by the Careymeister is already 17 years old. It's true! I swear!<br />
<br />
So do we really think that 'Under the Mistletoe' by the Bieber will still be playing 10 years from now? In some illicit South American torture chamber perhaps, but in Westfield? I doubt it.<br />
<br />
So is X Factor to blame for the demise of the Christmas single? Well of course in the last few years the coveted Christmas number one has sadly come to be synonymous with the ITV show.<br />
<br />
So does this year's X Factor offering have a cheeky festive slant? Hmm, not sure that <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Damien Rice's Cannonball really ticks that box..even sung by those little muffins </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Pick and MIx </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">(please shoot me if I hear them described as 'muffins' one more time) . Still I'm not one to prejudge, so let's take a look...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br />
</span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Stones taught me to fly<br />
Love, it taught me to lie<br />
Life, it taught me to die<br />
So it's not hard to fall<br />
When you float like a cannonball</span></i><br />
<br />
Oh dear! What a golden missed opportunity! All Damien had to do was switch the word Cannonball to Snowball then he might have been in with a half a chance. He might live to regret that error.<br />
<br />
Even Coldplay gave it a go last year with their valiant (but crap) effort Christmas Lights. But they were clearly too embarrassed to play it live at the X Factor last night. Good work with the wristbands though guys.<br />
<br />
But coming in as the underdog but fast moving into contention for the top spot this year, is 'Wherever You Are' by the Military Wives. It's got a lot going for it...a fine bunch of ladies led by a speccy young choir master mixed with a nice dash of sentimentality. Be honest though, whatever the outcome it'll be forgotten by February.<br />
<br />
Ultimately there is a positive to all of this though. Being at home this year means that I get to do all of my Christmas shopping on line, and to be there when the delivery man arrives.<br />
<br />
But all I want for Christmas is a new back. Could be a song in that.Back2Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16233457447577444767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685235802341858602.post-39475996973637061042011-12-08T03:03:00.000-08:002011-12-08T13:56:26.564-08:00Day 10 - I'll show you mine......if you show me yours?<br />
<br />
No, no, no, put that away I'm not talking lady bits, I'm talking scars of course!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lmwhdpPLOT1ql41ubo1_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lmwhdpPLOT1ql41ubo1_400.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
No, scars!! Not Scar.<br />
<br />
So why the sudden interest in areas of fibrous tissue that replace normal skin after injury? Well today was the day I got to take off my wound dressing and see my soon to be scar for the first time, and if you play your cards right I might give you a flash later missus.<br />
<br />
There's nothing more manly than a scar. Better even than a tattoo, everyone's got a tattoo these days, but only the brave have got a scar.<br />
<br />
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<br />
One of the best scenes in Jaws has got to be the drunken exchange between Quint and Hooper when they compare scars. Yes more memorable even than the first appearance of the rubber shark.<br />
<div><br />
For those of you unfamiliar with it, or just too young to have seen it, here's a cheeky clip...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: monospace; white-space: pre;"><b>HOOPER</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: monospace; white-space: pre;">Look here. (extends a forearm)</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: monospace; white-space: pre;">Steve Kaplan bit me during recess.</span></div><pre style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">Quint is amused. He presents his own formidable forearm.
</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>QUINT</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Wire burn. Trying to stop a backstay from taking my head off.
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>HOOPER</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">(rolling up a sleeve)</div><div style="text-align: left;">Moray Eel. Bit right through a wet suit.
Brody is fascinated. Quint and Hooper take a long pull from the bottle.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>QUINT</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Face and head scars come from amateur amusements in the bar room
This love line here... (he bends an ear forward)
...that's from some crazy Frenchie, came after me with a knife.
I caught him with a good right hand right in the snot locker
and laid him out amongst the sweetpeas.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>HOOPER</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Ever see one like this?</div><div style="text-align: left;">He hauls up his pants leg, revealing a wicked white scar.
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>HOOPER</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Bull shark scraped me while I was taking samples...
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>QUINT</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Nothing! A pleasure scar. Look here --</div>He starts rolling up his own dirty pants leg.
<div style="text-align: left;"><b>QUINT</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Slammed with a thresher's tail.
Look just like somebody caressed me with a nutmeg grater...
</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">Brody is drawn into their boasting comparison.
He secretly checks his own appendix scar,
but decides not to enter the contest.
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
</b>
<b>HOOPER</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'll drink to your leg.
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>QUINT</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">And I'll drink to yours.
</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div></pre></div><div><br />
Ha! That would be me, just like Brody wondering whether to pile into the contest with my very impressive ADR scar.<br />
<br />
So are you ready for a peek at my scar? I must warn you, it's not a pretty sight, the swollen stomach that is, not the scar, which shows excellent sewing skills by Mr Harrison.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicY8JzLvuTW7v-nAdCbYqnMT5oRLxoh2rx2PEtjEIo8yrXtZvNRAwt1tUhm71f2oOv2QL7KGNaEFrpAU9F4S1gQIgIrjZzrPWial3PS8Pv4Y2HWmZxY1RNwW8cKKXLqJTVz4st3ciR3bs/s1600/Scar+face.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicY8JzLvuTW7v-nAdCbYqnMT5oRLxoh2rx2PEtjEIo8yrXtZvNRAwt1tUhm71f2oOv2QL7KGNaEFrpAU9F4S1gQIgIrjZzrPWial3PS8Pv4Y2HWmZxY1RNwW8cKKXLqJTVz4st3ciR3bs/s400/Scar+face.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div>So what do you think? Is it likely to impress anyone? Probably not. </div><div><br />
</div><div>My daughter told me that after the operation I could tell people I got attacked by a shark. Yes indeed, a very neat and careful shark.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I don't know what it is about scars. For me they bring back vivid memories of fairground rides on Bonfire night. </div><div><br />
</div><div>You'd be there with Susie your date, nervously wondering whether it is was ok to put your arm round her on the dodgems, when out of nowhere he appears...scar face. Your heart sinks. Bollocks, why did he have to pick my dodgem?! </div><div><br />
</div><div>Yes there he is, standing on the back of your car one arm curled around the dodgem pole the other arm (muscly of course) draped casually across Susie. And what is the first thing she sees when she looks up at him? A damn big scar. Goddamn it! How the hell can I compete with that?! Answer...you can't. </div><div><br />
</div><div>And don't even think about pulling up your jumper and pointing desperately at your belly and shouting "hey! think you're hard mate? Well take a look at this baby. Got this from a guy called Harrison in Windsor. Cut me up with a scalpel and then put his hand right inside and pulled out a bit of my spine!" Forget it. You've lost the fight before it even starts. And then in a blink of an eye he's gone again, leaving the faintest whiff of beer and grease lingering in the air, and stealing away Susie's heart forever. Sigh. </div><div><br />
</div><div>At school I remember there was a phase when the 'lads' would spend their maths lessons carefully inscribing the name of their latest beau into their arm with a compass. It was terribly hard for me to suppress the urge to shout "Be careful Barry! I really don't think that compass is sterilised!" ...an early sign of my latter day obsession with hand steriliser.<br />
<br />
I would watch in silent fascination as the blood oozed from their freshly scoured arms and then days later standing in the dinner queue I'd look in quiet admiration at those proudly displayed scabs, which would eventually turn into gloriously amateur scars.<br />
<br />
I guess it was just lucky for the 'lads' (and their arms) that most of the girl's names back then seemed to be nice and short. Liz, Tina, Sam, Sue, Jane, Wendy, Pam, and so on. I did feel sorry, however, for one particular lad who had the misfortune to have a crush on Loretta, which is not only a longer name but easily misspelt. He made the school boy error (not too surprising really given that he was a school boy) and carved the name 'Lorretta' into his forearm. He proudly showed Loretta his dripping limb straight after maths, but she was so aggrieved at his lack of attention to detail that she immediately 'chucked him'. A lesson to us all.<br />
<br />
So maybe my new scar won't win any drunken contests deep in the bowels of shark catching boats, or impress the lads in the dinner queue, but it will always be a reminder of life post-ADR. Which will always be good enough for me.<br />
<br />
</div>Back2Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16233457447577444767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685235802341858602.post-21269638316702738632011-12-06T04:40:00.000-08:002011-12-06T09:05:36.340-08:00Day 8 - A week is a long time...Well here we are, a week after surgery.<br />
<br />
Now there's an old saying that a week is a long time in politics. First coined I believe by that good old boy Harold Wilson. Never seen without his pipe of course.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2009/07/13/article-0-0023D23900000258-565_468x359.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2009/07/13/article-0-0023D23900000258-565_468x359.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Now tell me, when was the last time you saw anyone smoking a pipe? I bet you can't, because people just don't do it anymore do they?<br />
<br />
I think it's rather a shame.<br />
<br />
Of course I know it's totally unhealthy, but it can be such a good look! And the smell of pipe tobacco is really rather good.<br />
<br />
Hang on I can hear the rumblings of discontent...well check this out!!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX2xiblPVYjC9w0TWy-Y1pAbIdss7vCtBjmz5xeggbE1M6jQVrVfHQgKIP9sKZKba5LPaxIZLM_SNNV2vveq5XgVImcBdml1KvwMTcVqBH0l2MkDmU5CvDbzJOFRJh-rTn28v8Ac3fuwU/s1600/Smoking+a+pipe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX2xiblPVYjC9w0TWy-Y1pAbIdss7vCtBjmz5xeggbE1M6jQVrVfHQgKIP9sKZKba5LPaxIZLM_SNNV2vveq5XgVImcBdml1KvwMTcVqBH0l2MkDmU5CvDbzJOFRJh-rTn28v8Ac3fuwU/s400/Smoking+a+pipe.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Yes!!! Look at that baby!!!<br />
<br />
You can always rely on Robert Downey Jr to push things to the absolute max and that is a corker!<br />
<br />
Now I know what you're thinking, this is not one for the ladies...but maybe it's time to think again...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDDgk7EAXbJRNv3Ym-HlqFfwihVFk9dMidOq60kEKfLbM9PtG2LVQHcvZNb4CfgnLrxKfsQmSpf_eO4V73kVKQagJafcXM9BSO5ZzeSt0kHdi3EHA6M042-AI6d8V24LWUeaZseM5I52s/s1600/pipe-smoking-babe-valerie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDDgk7EAXbJRNv3Ym-HlqFfwihVFk9dMidOq60kEKfLbM9PtG2LVQHcvZNb4CfgnLrxKfsQmSpf_eO4V73kVKQagJafcXM9BSO5ZzeSt0kHdi3EHA6M042-AI6d8V24LWUeaZseM5I52s/s400/pipe-smoking-babe-valerie.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
And a pipe can make you more intelligent. Fact.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Film/Pix/pictures/2011/9/20/1316516268940/Gandalf-in-The-Lord-of-th-007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Film/Pix/pictures/2011/9/20/1316516268940/Gandalf-in-The-Lord-of-th-007.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Hmm I think I know what to put on my Christmas list!<br />
<br />
Anyway I digress...so where were we. Oh yes, well if a week is a long time in politics I would argue that it's even longer in ADR.<br />
<br />
It's hard to think that it was only this time last week that I was going down to the operating theatre, not really sure what the future held, not really daring to hope that things could get better (ah there's another pound in the kitty for Poundland).<br />
<br />
But here I am a week later and my dodgy disc, beautifully referred to as wet cardboard by my surgeon, is gone forever and I have a sparkly new M6-L nestling deep inside me.<br />
<br />
So is too early to dream, to dream that wonderful dream, of being able to jump, climb, run, row, dance or lift suitcases?<br />
<br />
Yes it may sound trivial, but one of the things I look forward most of all to being able to do is lift suitcases. Ever since my problem started when we go on holiday I have to leave all the lifting to my long suffering wife and daughters. It's particularly embarrassing at check in at the airport because there they are heaving these heavy cases onto the conveyor belt and all I can do is stand by nonchalantly and watch. I can feel the eyes of the check in assistant boring into me and I know she's thinking..."you complete bastard". I wish I could wear a sign round my neck which says, "I've got a bad back, I'm not allowed to carry them! Honestly!"<br />
<br />
And then it doesn't end there. I can guarantee that when we get on the plane I'll be standing next to somebody who needs a hand getting their case into the over head locker. Ah there she is now...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.fatmanunleashed.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/heavy-suitcase-workout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://www.fatmanunleashed.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/heavy-suitcase-workout.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
So he or she will turn round and ask me if I can help and I'll have to say apologetically but firmly, no. I have a bad back you see. And they look me up and down and....uh oh, here comes that look again "you complete bastard!".<br />
<br />
You see bad backs aren't obvious. In fact quite the opposite you look perfectly normal most of the time. So people assume you should be able to do the things that 'normal' people do. And god do we wish that we could. In fact we dream of being able to lift suitcases. Well I do.<br />
<br />
And then when it comes to sitting down on the plane I open up my cabin bag (the lightest one I could possible find of course) and pull out....yes you've guessed it...my cushion! Yes my trusty cushion not only used to go everywhere with me at home but it was even an international traveller. And the people in the row behind me see me getting my cushion out and I hope that they immediately think to themselves...of course, he must have a bad back? Hah! Do they hell as like! No, they think...hmm he must have piles.<br />
<br />
But a week is a long time in ADR and I don't have a bad back anymore. Just you wait and see.Back2Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16233457447577444767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685235802341858602.post-82685689940538979942011-12-04T08:51:00.000-08:002011-12-04T13:42:08.351-08:00Day 6 - Easy like Sunday?That easy listening classic 'Easy' by the Commodores plays on the radio....<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://image.kazaa.com/images/37/602527136837/Commodores/The_Commodores_The_Definitive_Colle/Commodores_comp_Francine_Vicki_Golde_W-_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="350" src="http://image.kazaa.com/images/37/602527136837/Commodores/The_Commodores_The_Definitive_Colle/Commodores_comp_Francine_Vicki_Golde_W-_3.jpg" width="350" /></a></div><br />
Boy those dudes really knew how to dress! Nice.<br />
<br />
<i>Know it sounds funny<br />
But I just can't stand the pain...</i><br />
<br />
Yes all right Lionel, don't rub it in mate! Cheers, thanks for reminding me...<br />
<br />
<i>That's why I'm easy<br />
I'm easy like sunday morning</i><br />
<br />
I never really understood that lyric, was Lionel laid back? Indecisive? Slightly simple? Or sexually open to all offers?<br />
<br />
Either way I think perhaps the hardest thing about ADR is going to be having to consume the mind numbing combination of daytime radio with the ubiquitous diet of cookery, gossip, house buying and antiques to be found on daytime TV.<br />
<br />
I am proud to say that I am yet to succumb to Jeremy Kyle...but I'm sure it's only a matter of time.<br />
<br />
Yes of course the operation itself and the pain is not pleasant, but once those initial days are over you've then got weeks of slow recovery ahead of you...and weeks of Homes under the Hammer, Flog It, Bargain Hunt, Dickinson's Real Deal, Loose Women, Cash in the Attic and let's not forget the daddy...Deal Or No Deal.<br />
<br />
Thank god I have this blog to fall back on. Otherwise my mind would be at risk of becoming as degenerated as my disc.<br />
<br />
I need a plan. I need a routine that doesn't involve me counting the minutes until Come Dine Wth Me begins.<br />
<br />
I always wanted to write a screenplay, now would be a perfect time wouldn't it? And I have hundreds of old photos that need scanning in...I've got a ton of things to sell on eBay...I've got Christmas presents to buy (on line of course!)...<br />
<br />
Hang on....dee doo, dee doo, dee doo, dee doo, dee doodle doo doodle doo....isn't that the theme tune to Antiques Roadshow?<br />
<br />
Sorry I think its time for me to take my medication, and then take a little rest, in front of the TV perhaps with a nice cup of tea and a Jammie Dodger.Back2Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16233457447577444767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685235802341858602.post-3802940625143714762011-12-03T11:26:00.000-08:002011-12-04T04:02:09.194-08:00Day 5 - It's a bloody miracleWell it is! There's no other way to describe it.<br />
<br />
They slice your stomach open, peel you apart, move your giblets out of the way and hey presto there's your spine!! They scrape out your bad disc, jack up the vertebrae, cut a groove in the bone top and bottom and slide in the magic new M6-L disc. then they sew you up and in the blink of an eye you're good as new!!<br />
<br />
Well ok that is a massive over simplification but it's not far off the mark.<br />
<br />
And then less than 24 hours later you are out of bed and walking.<br />
<br />
Like I said, a bloody miracle, and that in a nutshell is ADR.<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Now the disc in your back is a bit like an inflatable Jammie Dodger biscuit that's been dunked very slightly in a nice cup of tea. Ok not a particularly elegant analogy I'll grant you, but stay with me here. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Most of the time these lovely biscuits get squished together but just bounce back to their original shape. But occasionally they squish out their jam (that would be a slipped disc or a prolapsed disc) and sometimes they get a bit old and crumbly and start to get thinner and thinner (that would be Degenerative Disc Disease or DDD). </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Now I'm lucky, yes lucky, because I only had one dodgy disc. After that fateful trip to Portugal when I got back home they did an MRI scan and found that I had Degenerative Disc Disease (DDD) in my L4-L5 disc (that's the disc just above the top of your bum) and it had a bit of a prolapse for good measure. Over the last 6 years my DDD has slowly got worse until after my most recent scan they told me that it was now reaching a critical point. If I wanted to have ADR I needed to get my ass in gear and get it done. If I didn't have it done then my next option would be a fusion, and that's a whole different flavour of biscuit.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">So I made the decision. Bring on the ADR.</div><br />
Now have you seen that Ridley Scott classic film Alien?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.divethoughts.com/thoughts/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/alien_john_hurt1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://www.divethoughts.com/thoughts/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/alien_john_hurt1.jpg" width="316" /></a></div>If you have then I can guarantee the scene that sticks most in your memory will be that moment when the alien bursts out of John Hurt's chest. That'll teach you for eating chinese straight after having an alien stuck to your face.<br />
<br />
But going into my operation I couldn't get that image out of my head, not the perfect mental preparation.<br />
<br />
When the time finally arrived I took my camera into the operating theatre and asked if they would mind taking a few photos for me. The anaesthetist told me that in 25 years this was the first time anyone had asked this....does that make me really weird?!!<br />
<br />
Looking at the photos afterwards you know, I wasn't so far away from Alien after all. See what you think...<br />
<br />
So here is John Hurt, err no that would be me, ready for the big scene. As you can see the alien is still attached to my face.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3gOczNCmrcLuMYW1EhpB1kM7PEdTCHs2Zt___2n-hZRYUsy040HvewlU7XH9jAhoxlYxSYPJbkLiVD4PWljtJmPtBANEfjIj1w7X_mjE8qWY9QT3-rGtspDDqmg1kYHvJY5l_lom0TUs/s1600/P1020540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3gOczNCmrcLuMYW1EhpB1kM7PEdTCHs2Zt___2n-hZRYUsy040HvewlU7XH9jAhoxlYxSYPJbkLiVD4PWljtJmPtBANEfjIj1w7X_mjE8qWY9QT3-rGtspDDqmg1kYHvJY5l_lom0TUs/s640/P1020540.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
This is the M6-L disc that they're going to put into my spine. Not as tasty as a Jammie Dodger but will last for 50 years in the biscuit tin and still be good as new.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbfbqfJV-4JAXZfmwom2fW6xQ358IL6yvVEZWJ6T_MKQ-1lRUUig9UZa6w3L8Tv5jg9bAuO7RTI_7S8lf4wyPxCwZGUnV0xufdRIMyfCXHHWbIsUFqBgtuyP8V3C4S9h9PdidL78BiYSw/s1600/M6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbfbqfJV-4JAXZfmwom2fW6xQ358IL6yvVEZWJ6T_MKQ-1lRUUig9UZa6w3L8Tv5jg9bAuO7RTI_7S8lf4wyPxCwZGUnV0xufdRIMyfCXHHWbIsUFqBgtuyP8V3C4S9h9PdidL78BiYSw/s640/M6.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And this is the M6 toolbox...or as I like to think of it a 21st Century Meccano set for Billionaires.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5SjQEc5v3zSjFw4tqhqGHfvHGu3F0NZmw-QRnJE2SvBy0bXaj7v59EgSntVfxHfTQX3DL6ZZGonh1dJ0G8dPHuknzoJxtwTjCCVRR5akOAnY_q7jo32stcg_o57_CzfulCjnta6DFDek/s1600/P1020543.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5SjQEc5v3zSjFw4tqhqGHfvHGu3F0NZmw-QRnJE2SvBy0bXaj7v59EgSntVfxHfTQX3DL6ZZGonh1dJ0G8dPHuknzoJxtwTjCCVRR5akOAnY_q7jo32stcg_o57_CzfulCjnta6DFDek/s640/P1020543.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And here he is, yes it's the star of the show, Mister David Harrison!!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7m3xQr0yZ4bIXR9gqEhM78E11k3_BpfbH-_7UjpvJSAHvAZUBN0CpJauNVKonDvjUm8UR9-Vwwh4BgmbDaBk4hmP_FQEArdu8yNbsDsR6ra_ysZElpLPXZJc_WVrXx4Sl6yf4a8sV7g/s1600/P1020542.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7m3xQr0yZ4bIXR9gqEhM78E11k3_BpfbH-_7UjpvJSAHvAZUBN0CpJauNVKonDvjUm8UR9-Vwwh4BgmbDaBk4hmP_FQEArdu8yNbsDsR6ra_ysZElpLPXZJc_WVrXx4Sl6yf4a8sV7g/s640/P1020542.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div> No they're not drilling for oil, this is all to make sure that the disc is inserted correctly...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9j-jzPuVBilAdFqUZ-K9K4RJg36JZw5ZjN051XkhxvYk3Qb-zWXiVWdaN9oR7AXMe2Q4-OpMI8NbtLSvxW2K1cpqhI6KrVdyCzl2_N9SMo1J72mC3IZ9-0-DK5Z6m_zjlBfsKFZle_78/s1600/P1020552.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9j-jzPuVBilAdFqUZ-K9K4RJg36JZw5ZjN051XkhxvYk3Qb-zWXiVWdaN9oR7AXMe2Q4-OpMI8NbtLSvxW2K1cpqhI6KrVdyCzl2_N9SMo1J72mC3IZ9-0-DK5Z6m_zjlBfsKFZle_78/s640/P1020552.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Ok, these next ones aren't for the squeamish. This is my alien nightmare come alive...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdrjHXw9tqm16PGauycEn3eMoV_2Obq1oE3WYsMvRGvgBODjY3a3p40zlRmBttB69PHQ0b9wNNl2Y4oBC-FawPHmDJsIuDCSBKKoWRKc7IDh5kZtpbNcU18slHBFneOdvkFmUKlZoqySs/s1600/P1020554.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdrjHXw9tqm16PGauycEn3eMoV_2Obq1oE3WYsMvRGvgBODjY3a3p40zlRmBttB69PHQ0b9wNNl2Y4oBC-FawPHmDJsIuDCSBKKoWRKc7IDh5kZtpbNcU18slHBFneOdvkFmUKlZoqySs/s640/P1020554.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Did somebody say they'd like a close up? Well it would be rude not to oblige...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4VCDTLY-8BKeRAn9d3g9GsWGO3ip0aJqIE3RLhEQrYyjB0GKVUBbqtIqj6FidJQX4Rt8ZS54LycyDqz8WUYFmGWl-1-BkArSUmClsfBy-xlF1Iq7ZVin2PXEAYu8SMCS-i-kEookPYI/s1600/spine.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4VCDTLY-8BKeRAn9d3g9GsWGO3ip0aJqIE3RLhEQrYyjB0GKVUBbqtIqj6FidJQX4Rt8ZS54LycyDqz8WUYFmGWl-1-BkArSUmClsfBy-xlF1Iq7ZVin2PXEAYu8SMCS-i-kEookPYI/s640/spine.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
All done? Alien removed? Then let's stitch him back up...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUp_PTwqr74IxRSRqrpo5DbogWPsRBHhktv4_HLdhG_YmsfWAHOotS2_7fHkM_bTqKDnjbNRvzPwDXDrEfj6ifS47daXqVzaOWM8fdbB252yMUQS0yGF1Vhk2XdH4Ox5gSymYxzqO4DzM/s1600/P1020550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUp_PTwqr74IxRSRqrpo5DbogWPsRBHhktv4_HLdhG_YmsfWAHOotS2_7fHkM_bTqKDnjbNRvzPwDXDrEfj6ifS47daXqVzaOWM8fdbB252yMUQS0yGF1Vhk2XdH4Ox5gSymYxzqO4DzM/s640/P1020550.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Almost there...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfZVFfDHvzf4i2PAchyphenhyphenB1JZesIFrbPBsIa1EZ8gSe2dH9aJiTaWjcvw6BcnScOIRaxQgA9iXUoWY7JCoNr4MFhvKVySH9JuS5K_z01rk7UTIqH9VwQIk50b6sopdbBqc7djpEHgH3MSgE/s1600/P1020557.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfZVFfDHvzf4i2PAchyphenhyphenB1JZesIFrbPBsIa1EZ8gSe2dH9aJiTaWjcvw6BcnScOIRaxQgA9iXUoWY7JCoNr4MFhvKVySH9JuS5K_z01rk7UTIqH9VwQIk50b6sopdbBqc7djpEHgH3MSgE/s640/P1020557.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
And there you have it.<br />
<br />
An ADR operation John Hurt stylee.<br />
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And all done in less than two hours.<br />
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Like I said it's a bloody miracle. Particular emphasis on the bloody.Back2Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16233457447577444767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685235802341858602.post-50101704999265783222011-12-02T15:10:00.000-08:002011-12-03T05:24:09.824-08:00Day 4 - Welcome home...Home is love.<br />
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Home is my family.<br />
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Home is where there's no incontinence sheet on the bed.<br />
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Home is where there's no Gideon bible in the drawer by my bed.<br />
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Home is where the TV is wide and thin, not square and fat.<br />
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Home is where I'm finally able to have a poo. No, honestly.<br />
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Home is where my dog thinks he's a cat and my cat thinks he's a dog.<br />
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Home is where the food is made the way I love it.<br />
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Home is the beginning of my new life.<br />
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I'm so happy to be home.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.vinylclocks.com/wp-content/uploads/pl1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="497" src="http://www.vinylclocks.com/wp-content/uploads/pl1.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>Back2Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16233457447577444767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685235802341858602.post-74491300288389724292011-12-02T10:06:00.000-08:002011-12-03T03:23:12.872-08:00Day 3 - Things can only get better...Things can only get better, at least that's what D-Ream and New Labour tried to tell us back in the day.<br />
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Some things are also just best forgotten...and that outfit really was ill advised. To be fair though anyone who has Dr Brian Cox playing keyboards for you can't be all bad.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.quiztimeuk.multiply.com/image/1/photos/667/1200x1200/15/pc3.jpg?et=emBq8GxNfTapTLfLjdR0%2CA&nmid=321531836" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="421" src="http://images.quiztimeuk.multiply.com/image/1/photos/667/1200x1200/15/pc3.jpg?et=emBq8GxNfTapTLfLjdR0%2CA&nmid=321531836" width="616" /></a></div><br />
<br />
When you're first coming to terms with a back problem you tell yourself all the time that things can only get better. In fact if I had a pound for every time in the last 6 years I told myself that things can only get better, I could now get a full basket of very reasonably priced items at Poundland. Luckily I work in Hemel Hempstead, so I also have an excellent selection of said outlets to choose from.<br />
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After each episode as you slowly recover you begin to convince yourself that perhaps this time will be different and your back problem will not come back and that life really will get better again.<br />
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But then it happens again. And it always seems to be when you're doing things which involve virtually no strenuous activity at all. I remember one of the occasions my back went was whilst cleaning my daughter's gerbil cage. If only they'd died sooner everything could have been different.<br />
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It's a cliche but it's true. If you've never had a back problem you really can never understand how fundamentally it impacts everything you do. It's on your mind, or at least in the back of your mind literally all of the time. It effects your work life, home life, sex life...and it effects the lives of those around you too.<br />
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Then after a while you find yourself doing these ridiculous things because you live in fear of your demon, your back. <br />
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For example, I've got used to carrying round a cushion to sit on when I drive my car, and then when I leave the car I put it in a special bag and take it with me so that I can sit on it at the cinema or a restaurant, or even a gig. The last concert I saw just before my operation was The Cure at the Albert Hall...I took my cushion. Very bloody rock and roll. And it wasn't even a black cushion (just a little joke for any goths reading this).<br />
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At one stage it got so bad that I had even tied a piece of string to the cushion and then when I sat down I would tie the other end to my belt buckle, just to make sure that I didn't forget it and leave it behind. Even writing this I'm wondering why my family didn't consider sectioning me. Then one day at a restaurant I got up angrily to complain about the length of time we'd been waiting for our meal and completely forgot about the cushion. I stormed across the restaurant my cushion bouncing along behind me, leaving my family in acute embarrassment. God how they suffered. <br />
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I got quite attached to that cushion, literally as you can see. But these things act almost like a comforter, your security blanket, the thing that will keep you safe and stop your demon returning to make your life a misery. <br />
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It's served me well but I'm still looking forward to burning that damn cushion when I get home.Back2Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16233457447577444767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685235802341858602.post-34170064889248326312011-12-01T04:01:00.000-08:002011-12-03T03:22:51.745-08:00Day 2 - And you may ask yourself...well, how did I get here?Someone once said, you never know what shit life is going to throw at you. Or in the case of poor Ann Hodge, what meteorite, but that's another story.<br />
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In my 'old life' (I like how that sounds!) I often felt like that, as if I was just waiting for the shit to happen. I often had that old Talking Heads track "Once in a Lifetime" going round in my head. You know the one....yes you do...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://voltrules.files.wordpress.com/2011/08/talking-heads.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="333" src="http://voltrules.files.wordpress.com/2011/08/talking-heads.jpg" width="451" /></a></div><br />
"<i>You may find yourself living in a shotgun shack,<br />
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And you may find yourself in another part of the world,<br />
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And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile,<br />
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You may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife,<br />
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You may ask yourself, "Well, how did I get here?"</i><br />
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Life seemed accidentally good, a bit too good to be true. It was only a matter of time before the bad stuff came knocking.<br />
<br />
Well it finally arrived at an Easyjet check in desk on the way to a family holiday to Portugal. Well you can't say that life doesn't have a sense of humour.<br />
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Up to that point I'd been in good shape, but ignorantly so. I didn't do the things then that I should have done, the stretching, the core strength, the posture, etc, etc. But how many people do? At least until they are forced to.<br />
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I wasn't a gym freak or anything, but I was fit and played tennis to a good standard. I could lift up my kids and make sandcastles with them on the beach in Portugal. Well ok it was just me making the sandcastles, but you get my point. <br />
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So there we were at check in and I've just bent over to lift the case onto the conveyor belt when it happened. Now there are some defining moments in life, the shooting of John Lennon, the day Diana died, 9/11, 7//7, the death of Michael Jackson and Amy Winehouse. So did you spot the happy memory in that list? Death and despair seem to make a much bigger impact on us than life and happiness. Note to self in new life...give the good memories more space than the bad ones. <br />
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Now i'm certainly not suggesting my back compares in any shape or form with global tragedies like those above, but in my personal world that moment at Luton airport was one of my defining moments that I'll never forget.<br />
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I can still feel the pain in my back like it was today. I can still remember how shit scared I was because I'd not felt anything like it before. I can remember walking in agony to Boots and swallowing a couple of Nurofen and hoping everything was going to be alright. What a delusional twat.<br />
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So I'm looking at my wife and saying that I don't think I can get on the plane, and my two daughters are looking at me with tears in their eyes because they think their holiday is about to get canned. <br />
<br />
So I reluctantly get on the plane and whilst Easyjet may not be the most comfortable airline in the world I don't think I can really blame them for this horror of a flight. But when I get to Faro I can't even walk, the pain is unbelievable. So my wife has to call the medics to get me into a wheelchair and I'm off to hospital. Welcome to Portugal my ass.<br />
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So I get dosed up on a cocktail of painkillers, anti-inflammatories and sedatives and spend 2 weeks laid out before making the painful journey home. Now at this point I don't know what's wrong with me, as far as I'm concerned it's something that will hopefully clear up in a couple of weeks and life can get back to normal. <br />
<br />
You see the problem with back problems is that you think they will go away...eventually. And for many people they do. But how long should you wait before you think, well is this going to go away? Ever? Is it a year? Two, maybe three? Well in my case it was another six years before I figured that actually this was never going to get better.<br />
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6 years....that's two more than Michael Jackson's doctor got for killing him. Not sure whether this is relevant but it sure is BAD. Maybe time to think about learning to Moonwalk.<br />
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Yesterday I gave thanks to my surgeon, but the biggest thanks must go to my long suffering wife. Life is hard for the person with the problem but it's easy to forget how hard it is for the people who care for you. My wonderful wife knows only too well that I have her to thank for everything. I wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for her strength and love through some very dark days. <br />
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The bonus is she cooks like a dream. The food here in hospital isn't bad, but it can't compare with the fried noodles she brought me last night! Love you.Back2Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16233457447577444767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685235802341858602.post-8099328707125730412011-11-30T04:50:00.000-08:002011-12-03T03:22:29.989-08:00Day 1 - The first day of the rest of my life...The first day of the rest of my life? Ok it's a cliche I know, but I'm guessing that most people who have had Artificial Disc Replacement or are considering it (now to be known simply as ADR...my new life is too short to be typing that out in full!) are hoping that it will change their life forever. I know I was.<br />
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Two days ago, the 28th November 2011, I finally had my ADR operation, so it's not quite the first day. But yesterday doesn't count as life was wonderful simply thanks to my ability to press a button and get morphine on demand, guilt free! <br />
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So today my morphine is gone and I have a clear head and fingers that can type, so today will officially be the first day of the rest of my life and it's comforting to know that it will be better than Ann Hodges.<br />
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57 years ago this very day in Sylacauga, Alabama, Ann Hodges was injured when a 4kg meteorite crashed through the roof of her house hitting her on the hip. What a bummer!<br />
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What I find somewhat ironic about the picture of her injury is that it bears some resemblance to my own, and her doctor is sporting a damn fine bow-tie.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.boulder.swri.edu/clark/chance/39bruise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="504" src="http://www.boulder.swri.edu/clark/chance/39bruise.jpg" width="335" /></a></div><br />
Don't worry I have some very nice photos of my own to share with you later...<br />
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The path that leads people to having an ADR operation is different for everyone, but I suspect we all have the same dreams of a life where the first thing on your mind when you wake up isn't your pain.<br />
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Life slowly but surely begins to revolve around your back problem until finally you realise that you've reached a point where your life is your back problem.<br />
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That process for me took 6 years, but once I got to that point I knew I had to try and change things for the better, whatever the risks. That point was only 3 months ago, and here I am today with a new disc and at the start of getting back to life.<br />
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I should start by thanking my fantastic surgeon David Harrison, from the Princess Margaret hospital in Windsor. You know you've got the right guy when everyone at the hospital from the anaesthethist to the nurses to the lady who brings your cup of tea talks about him in such reverential terms. Unlike other surgeons I met David exudes confidence without it becoming arrogance or conceit. He seems to be in this for us and not for himself....a self publicist he is not. <br />
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He met my wife very briefly but then remembered her rather unusual name several days later. It might not seem important but its little things like this which show he genuinely seems to care about his patients.<br />
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So before I go through my experience of this week I guess I need to first go back to the beginning of my story....the dark days.<br />
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But let's leave that for tomorrow, today is the first day of the rest of my life and today is only going to be positive and about moving forward.Back2Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16233457447577444767noreply@blogger.com0