It’s 3.30 AM on thursday, and I’m awake.

At 5.30 PM on Tuesday I was given a general anaesthetic and wheeled into theatre. The operation to rod and bolt my spine into a straight line took 6 hours and I’m sure was quite noisy, every vertabra being drilled into so that the titanium rods could be screwed in.

I now have a scar running from my bum up to my head, and I doubt it’s pretty. I won’t ever see it, as I can’t stand up and look over my shoulder into a mirror.

To say I was in pain would have been a drastic understatement, with morphine not really hitting the spot.
I soon learnt that coughing was to be avoided at all costs, as was trying to reach out for something with either arm.

As I have to be rolled a little every 2 hours to avoid pressure sores, I don’t get the luxury of sleep either, though I have dozed intermittently for sure.

They can roll me a little to my left, but any attempt to my right is just a no.

I woke to see Dani’s face through the oxygen mask – that much I recall – but I don’t remember asking her where I was apparently every 2 minutes for an hour.

As I’m a long way from being able to sit up, I’ve yet to appreciate a look at my regained straightness, but I am aware I think of the changed appearance of my chest, which seems more expanded, as I think I am less round shouldered than I was 36 hours ago.

I have had countless messages pre op and post op, every one of which I appreciate, and even some visitors – my girls plus Neal and Debs.

Yesterday morning I met the physio that’ll be working on me this week, and to my delight it’s the same absolutely lovely one that I had 3 years ago here, following my return from Toulon.
Sarah must have seen thousands of patients over the last 3 years, and in fact doesn’t even work here any more, yet happens to be here for the next week and has me as a patient. It was lovely seeing her, and she held my hand tightly for ages. Given that 3 years ago I was like a skeleton, couldn’t speak as I had a tracheotomy, had mucous sucked out of my throat every ten minutes, day and night, had awful weeping scars on my face and had alopecia, I must look a whole lot more healthy this time around.

I’ve just remembered that last time I was here, she was trying to get my right arm working, despite me saying how much it hurt. That went on for about 2 weeks, until a doctor appeared and said they’d forgotten to tell her that I had a broken right collar bone.

I do have a TV, but thus far only watched 15 minutes of that British Bake Off thing ( that I’ve never seen before )
My God, how rude are those judges to the bakers? Since when was a cook able legitimately to be so unkind to someone, on national telly, over a bloody cake?

Not that I’d ever appear on a baking show ( since I struggle to make a cup of tea ) but I think I’d just stuff the pie into the judge’s face if he spoke to me like that…