The difference a little bit of care makes: A brief rendevous at the Avenue Hospital

Regular follows of this blog will know all about my European adventures. For those of you who are first-time visitors to this blog, welcome! Just to bring you up to speed the last three months have been extremely tough – I cycled up a few mountains, tromped around numerous well-worn tourist tracks over the UK, plus went off the beaten track all in the name of food and a good coffee. Yep, I was living the good life. However, during this time I had a return of my hip pain for which I had surgery last year. Definitely ‘not happy Jan’!

After coming back home I saw my surgeon, the fabulous Dr David Young (DY for short), down at Melbourne Orthopedic Group. While David is an insanely busy man, he will always make time for his patients, ensures he gets all the details, and covers all the bases. Something that I dare say is probably becoming quite rare in our high-speed society and 24/7 desire for anything and everything. After having nothing turn up on an MRI, we decided to go in for a hip arthroscropy to see what has been causing my pain and try to fix the problem once and for all.

Yesterday, Friday 24th August 2012, I went back into the Avenue hospital to have my second hip surgery. Unlike my first surgery where I went in to get DY’s opinion in the morning and was on the operating table that very night, I had had a whole 9 days to ruminate about my upcoming ordeal. Usually I deal with stressful events by using the power of distraction i.e. not thinking about the event I am stressed about until it arrives. Hence, by the time the stressful event arrives you have to live in the moment and don’t have time to get nervous or stressed. Genius really. As such, I made sure I chatted to all the nurses after I was admitted and I finally got to have a decent chat to my friend G who has also just gotten back from OS (he did have a bit of a chuckle that the only time I could find to talk to him that wasn’t at the end of the day was while I was waiting for surgery; I thought it was the perfect time for a catch-up!).

I suppose the reason for this post is to really give a massive shout-out to all the team at the Avenue Hospital down in Windsor. I couldn’t have asked for a better bunch of people. As an aside – it is a very small world. My brilliant Traditional Chinese Medicine practitioner, Michael Keshishian at Sakura, his partner was working that night and came in to say hi after my surgery. So not only did I get to meet a whole lot of new people but also had the loving faces of my parents when I woke up, an unexpected smiling face from Leor, and my new Dougal Superman Daffodil Day bear - courtesy of my mum.

However, I did find my power of distraction technique wasn’t quite strong enough when my anesthetist was going through the facts and figures associated with the general anesthetic, the epidural and all the painkillers I was about the have. Some of the stats were: 1 in 100 experience headaches, 1 in 550 chance of ongoing numbness for three months, 1 in 20 000 chance of permanent nerve damage or 1 in 200 000 chance of death. Queue for the expected hyperventilation. Thankfully Mark’s phone rang and he had to quell his compulsory pre-surgery prep talk to take a call for a few minutes. That gave me a chance to lie down, focus on breathing, stop my head spinning and resume some control of my faculties upon his return.

After that everything went smoothly. I had a lovely orderly, who is currently studying marketing (a very interesting combo!), a nurse who made sure I was rugged up nice and tight, an assistant nurse with the magical warm rug who helped out last year, and another man, whom I believe was helping out Mark, in the surgery room by the name of Tom. Tom was fantastic – not only a cyclist but also knew about all the great rides in Europe. Talking about cycling did the trick; I successfully managed to avoid thinking about the needle for the drip being shoved firstly into my hand, and after this didn’t work (apparently I have petite veins, which I naturally thank my mother for), we had to go down the side of my wrist. Joy. However, I soon had a surgery gin and tonic followed shortly by three glasses of champagne when the epidural went in. Ciao world, Bonjour sleep.

Part of the procedure is having a smiling face when you wake up. My lovely orderly was back and I had another friendly nurse to chat to while still in a semi-induced daze of general anesthetic. DY came over briefly – my hip is awesome, he just had to remove some adhesion's from my labrum. Other than that, two weeks of gentle spinning and then I am back on the bike. Awesome news.

This was followed up by extremely caring evening and night nurses. Can’t say I have ever had a catheter before, apologies if I am sharing a little too much, and I found it be an ‘interesting’ experience. On the one hand, it was great because I didn’t need to go to the bathroom and disturb the recent site of surgery. On the other hand, knowing that there is a bag at the end of your bed didn’t exactly make for the best bedfellows. I kept trying to compare it to being drug tested – didn’t quite manage to convince myself though.

I had a yummy brekkie of porridge and tea, with another familiar smiling face behind the breakfast trolley. Shortly afterwards it was back home for a nice warm shower, a change into non-hospital underpants, and a cup of green tea while reading The Age Epicure. Bliss.

Before I get too distracted by food or coffee, I would just like to say a MASSIVE thank-you to everyone at the Avenue Hospital. I truly felt like I was in extremely safe hands and that I was exceptionally well cared for. Sending out my best wishes to all of you.


Until next time,

Ride safe, ride happy, ride in the moment


Han

Yep, needles freak me out a little...

A Yellow Pair of Nikes

Instead of the typical swash-buckling adventures usually told in the current blog (I think i must be channeling the Captain Jack Sparrow I met in Edinburgh the other day - wooden leg jokes anyone?), today's blog post is more some general musings on what some would consider the most important component of a girls wardrobe - her shoes.

Now traipsing around Europe had resulted in some slight disintegration of my faithful Geox runners. It had gotten to the point of no return - my feet kept getting cold and wet from all the new holes and lack of sole. Good job I only have one foot to keep warm and plenty of soul! Wow, we are on a roll today.. So, as an early birthday present mum said she would buy me a new pair. Shoe shopping in Oxford - good times! After perusing a few stores and getting the shoppers disillusionment of 'why can I always find items when I am not specifically looking?!' we came across a shopping mall. Perfect. Right out the front was the traditional Nike/Adidas store. Double perfect. I head on in, full of renewed optimism and confidence. I walked out two minutes latter bitterly disappointed. Mum asked if I had looked in one particularly nook in the shop, I walk back in, and low and behold - the brightest pair of yellow Nike runners known to man kind. It was love at first sight.

Striking a pose with my new runners

Walking out of the store in my brand new runners, the Geox pair dumped ceremoniously in the bin, I feel like a new woman. Albeit a woman with extremely bright shoes on her feet; the new running family joke was 'don't look for Hannah, look for the shoes'. I loved my new runners but started having thoughts along the lines of 'is that person secretly laughing at me?', 'I wander if that cute guy over there is smiling at me or at my clown shoes?'.

Woah, woah, woah - wait a moment here Han. You are getting caught up in what other people think of you??! It was definitely time for some tough love and to revisit my values. Why should it matter what other people think of me? I can remember my mentor Donnie Elgin sitting down with the 9 year old version of my self and asking why I felt uncomfortable when people stared at my leg.
"Is their staring hurting you Han? Could you maybe be creating awareness that having one leg is not stopping you from getting out there and living life to the fullest?".  While it did take some time to change my thought process, I am now quietly proud of my black carbon fibre leg as I walk around in shorts or dresses; I think it looks dam sexy!

Also, I needed to remind myself that who am I to know what other people are thinking? You know the feeling when you are slightly self-conscious that you are wearing the same outfit you wore last Monday to work again the following Monday? I think traveling cured me of that - it got to the point of my three-day rotating wardrobe where I was jut happy that the clothes I had on where clean (tricky if you have been washing out of a sink for three months). But really, I can barely remember what I wore yesterday, let alone what other people wore last week!

After having these internal conversations and tough self-love, I pushed my shoulders back, held my head up and walked proudly down the main street in Oxford wearing my bright yellow runners. I loved every minute.

As an aside, I am having some difficulties keeping them clean - anyone have any suggestions?! Any help or direction would be great.

Till next time
Ride safe, ride happy, ride in the moment

Han

Family Ties

What type of image do you get when I say 17 days,  one car, four people who haven't spent more than 24hrs together since Christmas, 7 pieces of luggage, three spare legs, and a bike in the UK? Something resembling WW11 perhaps? Or did you go the optimistic kumbaya sing-along scenario? The truth is probably a mixture of both. Recent times have seen mum up in Sydney working furiously on delivering the national electronic healthy system to Australia plus doing a doctorate on the side through the University of Liverpool. My brother goes to Monash  Uni during the days, works most nights and is a foodie socialite in his spare time. John, affectionately dubbed JB, works long hours as an instrumental engineer, keeps the house running while mum commutes to Sydney Monday-Friday, and dreams of retirement. Me? I haven't seen Australian soil since May and am missing Vegemite terribly (imagine my excitement when I discovered mum had bough over a little pot and then discovering more at a supermarket in Oxford - score!). As such, some good family bonding was long overdue and promised to hold some memorable moments, even if these moments were heated arguments relating to navigational expertise.

The family reunion occurred at Heathrow airport. Everyone was looking a little worse for wear. Mum had been working 20hour days for the past two weeks, Duncan had just finished exams, JB had not slept a wink on the 36hr journey, and I had had about 5hrs sleep during the past 48hrs given a *small* hiccup in Barcelona that resulted in spending the night on some rather comfy airport floor and the shelling out of €487.... Lets save that story for another time - still a bit of a sore spot! 

You know when you get to the point and the only person in the world that you want to see is your mum? You just want to melt into her arms and feel safe from the world. Walking out of customs at Heathrow (hats off to the boys, had a brilliant run through) and spotting my mum in the crowd then dissolving into the mum hug was heaven. Just what the doctor ordered after the Barcelona debacle. Then the bro came to the rescue with carting the bike box around on the tube in London and JB carried my heavy backpack - I was definitely loving the family life! 

Some people may think that two kids in their twenties on a holiday for three weeks with their parents may be hell on earth, but, I have found that as my brother and I grow up, the more informal, relaxed and humorous our conversations with the parentals have gotten - especially after a few glasses of red wine or pints of cider. You get to know your parents more as people, who they are - as opposed to the providers of your daily needs. The relationship dynamics change, philosophical debates ensue, stories from hippy childhoods emerge. 

 

All aboard the Jacobite Steam train in Scotland (made famous by Harry Potter)

 

Not only did my brother and I get to know our parents a little better, I got to catch up with my brother and have some decent one-on-one bro / sis bonding. We both share a love of coffee and good food, wandering around markets and taking in the detail of the places we visit. A memorable brekkie in Nottinghill at Portobello markets saw an amazing apricot, ginger and walnut scone consumed. Plus being family, meals always means taste-testers of what each person ordered plus your own - the best way to dine! 

 

Punting along The Cam with my brother

 

From Stonehenge to the Highlands, Shakespeare to the West-End, black pudding to haggis, Jane Austin to Lewis Carol, Loch Ness monsters to walking the hotel dog - we did it all. I even managed to get JB out for a ride in his home town of Chester. This event was extremely fortuitous; driving back after visiting the stately ??? House, we made some unexpected turns down Cheshire lanes and on the side of on of these lanes was a group of club cyclists about to start their weekly 10mile time trial. The club was Weaver Valley Cycling club, the very club that JB had been a founding member of 50years before. Coincidence or fate?! 

After having a good chat and gander at all the decked-out bikes (some pretty flash wheels were being used), the decision was made to meet up for a pint down the road where the family could have dinner and JB's mates could come and chew the fat. During conversation I naturally popped the question as to where we could hire a bike for JB to go out on a ride tomorrow. In the space of about three sentences, it had been decided that tomorrow afternoon JB would be riding Graham's brand new bike in Weaver Valley gear with Dennis playing tour guide. 

 

 JB and Dennis modelling Weaver Valley Cycling Gear in Chester

The genuine generosity of these people meant that even though we got a 'tad' wet, the grin the next day on JB's face could not be wiped off for a good 48hrs. Here he was, on a bike, riding down the lanes of his childhood with a friend he hadn't seen in over 30 (maybe 40 - give or take) years. Like a pig in mud. Awesome and very special stuff. It was also nice not to have to worry about directions for the day and end up taking pictures of Pyramids instead of Buckingham house; yes, I can get very lost - remember the typical lack of direction in this female?!

I feel truly blessed to have spent three weeks in the UK with my family. It isn't everyone's cup of tea but for me, family is important. They are the people who you can turn when the cards fall on the floor, they are the people who truly know who you are - warts and all. There doesn't have to be any pretensions, all masks can slip away. I am not pretending my family is perfect - far from it - but I love each and everyone of them. So thanks Mum, JB and Schnooks for the wonderful times - Jamaica next?!

Till next time 

Ride safe, ride happy, ride in the moment

Han