Broken Back

It’s ok, don’t panic! I haven’t broken my back. I have broken the back of the first cycle. Today, I had my last hospital appointment for Cycle 1. Tomorrow, I will take my last Dex for Cycle 1. Toot-toot! Woop-woop! And other such indications of festivity in the age of text-speak.

It is as ever, way past my bedtime. But tomorrow is a busy work day and Wednesday and Thursday are quite likely to be some kind of variation on the boringly recurrent chapter of ‘Helga the Great in the Slough of Despond’ so I thought I’d get in a post while I know I can… Besides, well, the clue is in the fact I just mentioned Dex. Sleep ain’t winging its way to me any time soon without suitable chemical assistance.

It was a nice day too. I worked from home in the morning. My lovely writer friend, let us call him Thor the Mighty Pen-Wielder, met me for lunch in Tartine of Tooting, and then accompanied me to hospital which was all achieved in record quick time. I now think he is a lucky charm, possibly due to the fact that he is half-Swedish and therefore basically an extra appropriate Viking. I’m very chuffed to have some proper Scandis out there among my readership scattered currently in your various bits of Europe currently – extra Viking appreciation to you all! I therefore still had time and energy to achieve a healthy supermarket shop on the way home, and was then blessed with an unexpected fly-by (well bike-by) visit from another lovely friend on her way home to Brixton from work (hmm, ‘Pippi the Energetic’) so we had a nice cuppa and both talked the hind legs off several donkeys. Finally, through the magic of online streaming, I could join ‘Film Club’ from the comfort of my own sofa this evening even though I couldn’t make the trek up to the wilds of Finsbury Park. Oh, and the sun was shining. It ain’t so bad on days like this.

I may have omitted to mention that I also felt drunk all day. This isn’t actually a pleasant drunk feeling, more an urgh drunk feeling. But it turns out that by and large you can still do stuff in this state, and nobody else is any the wiser.

On the theme of not broken bones, I also have been feeling very remiss in that I promised you the ‘after’ pics of my leg operation, so here you go. Such a very long leg I have that it has to fit into two photos:



I remember the main rod is 48cm long, and I’ve forgotten how many mm wide: only that it wasn’t quite as wide as they’d wanted because my The Great genes mean I have very lady-like narrow bones so they couldn’t get a bigger one. They had to core out a space a bit like with an apple corer. They took out some samples of the dodgy moth-eaten stuff that was there to help confirm the diagnosis.

No, I don’t now go ‘beep’ in airports. That there metal is titanium.

Talking of which, let me introduce Viking Theme Tune #1:

Thanks to the fact that I was at home pretty immobile and off sick during X-Factor 2012 (that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it) I am very familiar with this song, beloved of wannabee-overnight-sensation crooners everywhere. It is both cheesily terrible and amazingly uplifting, particularly on those days when you need a bit of an injection of feistiness to help go along with all those more literal injections of cell-killing poison. I now have it on my phone and quite like listening to it. Sometimes I use it as my alarm. One day we should all go and do it in karaoke…

I am Titanium.

I am Helga the Great.