Around 2012, AC. ( After the start of Catheters). Having been through all the surgeries and revisions from the past 3 years, my spine was buggered. They tried spinal fusions, spacers, and steroid injections to fix it. Then came the Consultant Anaesthetist, known as the Baron. Tall, abrupt, and he had this knack for making patients cry before even doing anything.

Somehow, we got along just fine. He even helped me convince the local health authorities (CCG back then, now they’re ICB or something) to let me head to London for a pain-management-spinal-stimulator assessment course and eventual implant.

Anyway, the implant’s battery started acting up last year—10 years after it was put in. After a ton of face-to-face and phone appointments, they finally agreed the battery was dead. No shit Sherlock. twas decided the Baron should replace it. All that decision-making? It took forever.

Fast forward to this week, I had a phone appointment with the Baron. He’s now apparently sporting long hair, looking like a hippie, he’s semi retired and only handles spinal revisions. Hippy or not, he’s still his cranky self.

“Don’t talk…I’m typing.”

“Your x-rays make it look like you’re not fat.”

“Are you fat?”

“10 years ago, when I put the implant in, you would have had a trial a few weeks before.”

I mumbled through and told him he didn’t do a trial. Actually, he woke me up from anesthesia and asked if it was working. When I said yes, he knocked me out again and finished the operation!

He went through all the risks. Of course as he must point out the dangers the possibilites of it all going wrong.

‘It never does’ he said ‘ but you would be the 1% that ends up with infection, or meningitis, or paralysis or….

If I read the side effects of a paracetamol I would never take one…in the same principle I have agreed to have old wires out. Old battery out. New wires in…up the epidural space. New battery in. 33 new programmable points. It will be end of April

He was distinctly unimpressed when I muttered that I was meant to have jaw breaking surgery in April. It is rumoured to be April 7th. But that hospital sends me a text every day saying their waiting list is very long do I still want to be on it.

The Baron reckons spine needs priority over jaw.

Jaw will have to be even later.

I’m sort of ok about that.

Ah, Valentine’s Day—cheers everyone!

In our house, it’s no biggie. Mum and I used to ping each other all day with things like, “Gotta be a bouquet of red roses lurking around somewhere…wait, is that a lorry? Must be the roses!” And so on and so forth. My brother jumped in on the action too. Our WhatsApp group was buzzing non-stop. But guess what? Not a single red rose or any colour rose showed up at her place or mine. Did we care? Ha, not one bit!