Wednesday, 17 July 2024

June already - no joke!

 June and half of July…

 The beginning of June saw us start to get the house ready for going away, spring cleaning as much as we could and trying to keep up with the garden which, in true Guernsey fashion, was exploding with growth.  Keen to get it all done before Jonny, Adele and Fabulous Finn arrived, we interspersed house and garden chores with looking after our Airbnb guests from Switzerland, happily esconced in our guest ‘wing’, various church activities – making scones for the café, serving coffee on a couple of Sundays and, for me, attending a seaweed products promotional evening. Naomi Tustin, a friend from our home group, runs the seaweed food side of The Seaweed Company while her husband creates skin care products. Quite fascinating.

 Add in hosting my monthly ladies’ breakfast, meeting up with a friend for Bible study and prayer every Friday, catching up on Zoom with my brother and some close friends, and meeting  Guernsey friends for supper – busy.

 Of course, I also spent time gathering things for Finn’s visit: a tiny wetsuit, small toys and a potty from Sarah and larger toys – including a buggy, a slide and a music mat – from my colleague Claire who lives nearby.

 The family were with us for a wonderful three weeks. We spent more time on the beach then we had done in three years – a source of endless delight for Finn and for us as we watched him constantly entertain himself with exciting discoveries and experiences. Finn enjoyed the children’s pool, where we could put his feet down, while Jonny went off on runs – including a practice 70km plus run all around the island.

 Water – or liquids – was a bit of a theme. Swimming. Sea. Swimming pool. Finn – water play is a favourite activity, so the beach toys were put to good use along with various cooking implements.

 Another strong theme was Breakdown, Repairs and Replacements.

 First off was the dishwasher, which had been progressively underperforming for some time. We blamed the tablets, the programme in use, the stacking (over-stacking is a regular feature, as we are the King and Queen of Cramming Everything In. (Not just regarding dishwashers, either…)

Anyway, the dishwasher eventually just stopped working altogether. At least, it ran – cold, and didn’t clean anything.

 After much internet research, a bit of you-tubing and a lot of testing out various theories as to What Had Gone Wrong, we came to the conclusion that it was time to replace it. It has been a great machine – a Kuppersbusch, along with the other kitchen appliances – but was at least 11 years old, if not longer, so time to replace.

A quick trip down to Valpy’s and one was on order. Had to wait a week, which involved an awful lot of washing by hand, and then it arrived just a few days before we were due to move out before our first guests of the season arrived.

 Eschewing the prospect of paying an additional £80 to have it installed, we decided to do it ourselves. How hard could it be? Quite hard, actually. It took 4 hours, which included a trip back to Valpy’s to a) but a socket to plug the dishwasher in, and b) to ask about some parts which appeared to be missing. Turned out they weren’t: said parts were on the installation diagram but didn’t actually exist. We got there in the end, refitting the concealing door and leaving out only two of all the screws supplied. Phew.

 In the interim, the sink developed a leak. It had had a crack since we moved in, but obviously the pressure of a sink full of soapsuds and dirty dishes caused water to seep through underneath. 

 I really didn’t mind having all the cleaning fluids and recycling bins scattered round the dining room while we scratched our heads, wondered if it was repairable and researched the cost of a new sink (over £400!! Eek!). In the end, all was solved with a little Sink Repair Glue - superglue in disguise - underneath and a wait of a couple of days to make sure it had dried.

 Before and after this, Richard struggled with the water system in the motorhome which had stopped. Was the pump broken and needed replacing? No. Was it a fault in the taps? Didn’t appear to be, although the motorhome taps have microswitches and cost upwards of £130 EACH.  Wiring or the electrical relay? Perhaps, but most of the system was inaccessible. Internet research again yielded similar experiences , obvious or useless suggestions and a lot of head-scratching. The most useful tip was the guy who got so fed up with his issue that he gave the pump a good welly and got it all working… In the end, Richard did something similar and got it all working.

 For a week or so. Then it gave up again, with no water coming out of any of the taps.  Probably a loose connection somewhere in the wiring, but, with only a few days left before we were to leave for France, we didn’t want to spend the time or effort in pulling everything apart. (All the seat cushions out, hatches lifted and too many tools scattered all around. No, not going to happen.) The solution was to wire a connection directly from the cigarette lighter, which would pump water when the engine was switched on. Or using a water carrier for everything instead. The last option seemed the most practical, so we filled up a collapsible jerrican and were set to go.

 The final ‘liquid’ issue was when, after filling up with diesel, the cap wouldn’t go back on properly. Hmmm.  A lot of fiddling, and after 5 minutes or so R managed to lock it.

 Having said all this: I am SO thankful that everything happened when it did. A new dishwasher just before we were due to go away means, hopefully, a RELIABLE dishwasher which will do its job and won’t break down. So thankful that all the issues didn’t happen a few weeks later!

 By mid-July, the house was ready to leave. It seemed that every nook and cranny had been scoured out – multiple times, as spiders and flies crept back into the house every time we turned out backs. J, A, and Finn left just before to spend time with Adele’s lovely family. And so…. Off to France. See you in September!

Tuesday, 4 June 2024

Knee

Cards, flowers and beautiful sunrises...









The regime in the first few weeks - grateful to have the rugby 6 nations as a superb distraction.







Valentines Day - the day of the op!🤣🤣😍

And...only in Guernsey:


Tuesday, 16 April 2024

The rest of February! And all of March! And half of April! It's all about my knee replacement....

 The truth about total knee replacement.... Or: the rest of February! And March! And April!!!

Nothing had prepared either of us for the level of pain I experienced post-op.

The pre-op assessments had all seemed comprehensive and straightforward: blood tests, ECG, explanations from physiotherapists, even occupational therapists (which seemed to be mainly about how to put one’s underwear on). There were all kinds of leaflets to read about what to expect, what the spinal anaesthetic procedure would be, and so on. I felt well-prepared and excited to be finally ‘fixing’ the arthritic knee which has limited my activities for over the last dozen years.

Going into hospital – after the op had been delayed by three weeks – was easy. My operation was scheduled during ‘Closure Week’ when, normally, there wouldn’t be many operations going on. So, initially, there were just two of us on a nine-patient ward and I was fortunate to have a room and bathroom to myself. The staff were all very friendly, the anaesthetist – who I hadn’t met previously – was kind and competent, sedating me after the spinal so that I drifted off after just a couple of minutes in the anaesthetics room, only coming gently round as I was wheeled out of theatre. Such a pleasant experience compared with the general anaesthetics I had had more than 35 years previously.

Back at the ward, I was given painkillers for when the ‘spinal wore off’, and then the ‘fun’ started. More pain in my leg than I had ever experienced, including appendicitis and the worst of toothaches, which seemed to consume my whole body. Agony.

Eventually, midway through the night (I had been returned to the ward at around 5pm, still blissfully unaware and able to drink a cup of tea with a delicious egg sandwich), my whimpering caused the staff to take pity on me, giving me morphine and more tea and toast. I was, initially, able to drift off for half an hour for a short nap but was soon then awake.

That night, and subsequent nights, seemed to last forever. Morphine had little effect: otherwise I was only given a normal dose of intravenous paracetamol, eventually moving on to paracetamol tablets and codeine tablets in preparation for discharge.

Physio began almost immediately. One lovely nurse – Karenjoi – warned me that the physio could be a bit ‘aggressive’ and dosed me up with painkillers in good time beforehand. Welcome relief, afterwards, was a bag of ice on my injured knee.

She wasn’t kidding. Every move I made felt as if the stitches – 20 cm of them – were tearing open as pain ripped down my knee and shin. My muscles barely seemed to work: I could only move my operated leg on and off the bed by rotating my whole body and supporting the leg with the ankle of my good leg: a useful tip from the physios. To start with, my leg completely refused to bend, remaining stubbornly stuck straight out in front of me. Nevertheless, I practiced the exercises as best I could, transferred myself from a walker onto crutches (still looking like a ninety year old granny – I have the photo to prove it), ‘walked’ along the corridor and then up and down the stairs – and was then signed off as fit to leave the hospital.

Still, once home I found I could manage the bathroom well with first 2 crutches, then 1, holding onto the washbasin to lower or pull myself up.  By 3 weeks, I was almost walking unaided.

There was a steep learning curve in the interim.

I found myself phoning the nurses at the Medical Specialist Group a couple of times. My foot and ankle has swelled up hugely: is that normal? (Yes.). Are these levels of pain normal? (Disappointingly, yes. Keep taking the paracetamol and codeine.) And, embarrassingly: I double dosed on paracetamol by mistake: does it matter? (No – there were 3 hours between the two doses, so not too awful.) I was grateful for the calm, friendly voice at the other end of the phone line.

I discovered that icing under the knee, using a sandwich of 3 freezer ice packs rather than a bag of ice (which had a tendency to leak!), was as useful as icing on top of it.

Waking in the night from pain – which I did frequently – meant that I needed to move, whether a short walk around the house to relieve the cramping muscles, or a change to a comfortable recliner chair.

The pain was considerably worse at night, as the body used the night hours to focus on healing. I became so stiff that the pain woke me: putting headphones in and listening to David Suchet read the psalms, via BibleGateway, was a soothing distraction.

After a week or so, I stopped taking codeine during the day, tried, at first, to reduce it at night but then went back up to a normal dose until I felt I could reduce it again.

A heat pad on the back was invaluable, soothing knotted muscles and aching bones.

And friends came, and came… such a blessing. They brought meals, flowers, chocolates – but most of all, they brought love and care and a welcome distraction from all the pain. The days when there were no 6 Nations Rugby matches and no visitors (sometimes I’d had three lots in a day, so I wasn’t complaining!) seemed endlessly long. I read, played puzzles, coloured the lovely prayer journal which Adele had ordered for me; messaged on WhatsApp to friends and family far away; and read far too much on facebook, scrolling to distract myself.

One particularly useful diversion, which took my mind off the inevitable pain and discomfort when doing the exercises, was to watch the BBC game show Would I Lie To You? Fun.  I tried one or two other recommendations, but that was definitely the most effective.

By 3 weeks, days were enjoyable – if slow when no one dropped in to visit – but the nights still trial. I was signed off work for 12 weeks total: still a way to go, so practicing patience was in order.

One delightful addendum: my op was scheduled for February 14th: Valentine’s Day. We don’t usually ‘celebrate’ it, but this time, Richard sent me a delightful set of emojis: 👩‍❤‍👨 🐈‍⬛ 🕰 ❤  I had to have it explained to me: 2people+ heart, is us then dog all waiting for their loved one to come back. Never mind that the ‘dog’ was a cat! So sweet of him. He has been absolutely fantastic: so thoughtful and attentive, uncomplainingly fetching and carrying for me, cooking breakfast and other meals, driving me to appointments…

The second half of February, then, passed by in a blur of pain. My stitches were removed by a nurse at MSG at the end of the month: a fascinating picture. It all looked much neater and cleaner than I was expecting: indeed, at my pre-op check the nurse had sighed, “Oh, Mr Hopcroft does the neatest scars,” and that was certainly the case.

I was still using two crutches when I had my first physio appointment two weeks after the operation, but soon graduated to one and then, four weeks after, I could just about walk without any at all, just using a stick occasionally.

The physio, Peter, was brilliant. He answered my many questions very patiently.

What position should my knee be in? Straight. (Not what I wanted to hear – that was quite uncomfortable.) Can my leg lean to one side? No, it should be straight. (Again, that was uncomfortable.)  How painful should it be to do the exercises? As painful as you can bear it.

I had, in fact, mostly picked that up from the internet – which was not hugely helpful until I discovered the website of the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital in Birmingham which proved to be a mine of commonsense and practical advice.  Still, it was good to get it confirmed.

He was very kind, but there really wasn’t much either of us could do about the pain, although I did have some leg-stretching exercises I could do when the pain woke me up.

Which it did, frequently. My sleeping pattern was awful for over seven weeks. I would, perhaps, sleep for the first two hours before the pain in my leg muscles woke me up. Then, if I was lucky, I would doze, woken by pain at hourly intervals. Sometimes it was my outer calf muscles, then behind the knee, or sometimes the lower thigh. Referred pain caused discomfort in my lower back and top of the thigh/groin area. A warm wheatbag helped enormously, though in my zeal to heat it up, I managed to set fire to it a couple of times when warming it up in the microwave, resulting in a wonderful smell of burnt toast, several wheat grains scattered among the sheets and several sessions of repairs involving needle and thread.

I found myself awake every night. Getting up and walking around helped the pain initially, loosening up the muscles, but then I could not settle. I would go into the sitting room, where a reclining chair and mattress, complete with blankets, cushions and duvet, would be waiting. If I was lucky, I would doze off at around 4 or 5 am for an hour or so…

But, of course, I could catch up during the day. Naps lasted from an hour to a full morning or afternoon, but I didn’t fret, reasoning that my body would sort itself out eventually once the pain became more manageable. I had been sent out from hospital with a long prescription for paracetamol and codeine – two weeks’ worth. By the end of one week of taking this – not even two weeks after the operation – I realized that the pain was not going to go away quickly, so I started reducing the codeine during the day so that I could stretch the period during which I would take it, keeping it for the night hours. And, although there were no directions to do so, I slowly reduced the daily dose until, from an initial 240mg a day, I was taking only 30mg.

Wow. A good thing too. Coming off the codeine was very unpleasant. I felt quite unwell for the first two weeks without it, feeling as if I had stomach flu, and it wasn’t until the end of the third week that I felt I was getting back to normal. Never again. I wasn’t even sure that it was particularly effective.

I persevered – as I had been encouraged to do by every knee replacement patient I had spoken to – with the exercises. Three times a day, varying with each physio visit, and sometimes so painful that I felt sick and dizzy, yet by 8 weeks after the op my knee had reached a wonderful 120 degrees of flexion and I was almost pain-free. So much so, that Peter then discharged me with the proviso that I could return within a couple of months if I needed to. Meanwhile, it was ‘business as usual’ – returning to gentle arms-only with perhaps front crawl legs swimming, careful and limited cycling and continuing on with the exercises to improve strength and maximise the gains made. Wonderful. And, even better, I was sleeping until around 5 am. I diligently massaged the scar with cream and lavender oil, watching it slowly fade with satisfaction.

Back to gardening, too, though found that very tiring to start with.

Still, by mid-April I was well on the mend… and still another month to go before I had to return to work…

Two months of pain, discomfort and weariness. But friends had been marvellous, visiting so much especially during the first month, bringing ready meals of all kinds – even Korean! – chocolate, baked goods and flowers. So very, very kind. It was great to be able to sit and chat, and of course I had a lot of time for reading, too. Slowly, my brain began to return to normal…