'I'm walking back to happiness after my operation - and I sung through surgery'

28 July 2023 , 20:45

739 0

Val has finally had her hip surgery (Image: Julian Hamilton/Daily Mirror)

I promised I’d Can Can around my close after I’d had my hip op. And although I’m not quite high kicking, it mightn’t be long until I’m signing for Strictly. Nearly a month’s passed since my first operation at the grand old age of 75. I was petrified because I’d convinced myself I wouldn’t come out of theatre alive. But if I had to go back for more surgery tomorrow, I’d not hesitate to hop straight back on the bed.

Under local anaesthetic, I sung my way through surgery. Belting out every word of my playlist of The Drifters, Tina Turner, Neil Sedaka and Status Quo helped drown the sound of drilling and keep me upbeat.

The staff must’ve thought I was on the wrong ward. But of course they’re the ones who really brought me through everything. From Sister Jackie who was chatty, bubbly and held my hand throughout the op, and surgeon Mr Philips who had the good grace to smile when I asked mid-op if he felt like he was on The Repair Shop.

I laughed so much with the ladies on the ward we felt we were in boarding school. We were told to go to sleep by the nurse because we kept chatting into the night. Special mention must go to Glenys in the bed opposite, who had the most beautiful long hair at the age of 86 and said this column made her chuckle.

'I'm walking back to happiness after my operation - and I sung through surgery' eiqekidddiqdinv

'I missed Alcaraz’s historic win' (NEIL HALL/EPA-EFE/REX/Shutterstock)

Watching Wimbledon is the highlight of my year but I enjoyed chats with the ladies so much I ignored matches on the telly in the corner. I’d be daft to say hospital stays are a big bag of laughs though. One afternoon I remember dinner had just arrived and I couldn’t wait to eat the spotted dick, but the next thing I knew I had worried-looking doctors around my bed and the curtains closed. Apparently my blood pressure had plummeted, I slumped in my chair and the crash team came running. I quickly recovered but missed the spotted dick.

Teachers, civil servants and train drivers walk out in biggest strike in decade

Nurses smiled a lot when our Robert visited me, and I felt very emotional to see him and Jonathan at my bedside. I guess that’s relief. I also felt overwhelmed with everyone’s kindness because I know I can never repay them properly. Every NHS worker I saw at Wrexham Maelor went out of their way to help and did so with real care and genuine smiles. There is no way on earth they are paid enough.

After five days I was allowed home but rain was coming down in rods in a storm that was more like a tornado. My friend Janet was going to push my wheelchair to her car, which was quite far away, and we knew we’d both be drenched. A fabulous porter called Chris spotted us looking anxious as we stared out at the rain, and he drove Janet in his car to fetch her car so she’d stay dry while I waited indoors. Such thoughtfulness makes me weepy.

I’m grateful for the huge chain of support stretching around me. From my friend Sheila, who set her alarm at 5.40am to drive me into hospital, my neighbour Nia who delivered chocolate dipped strawberries as soon as I arrived home, the GP monitoring my blood pressure, the district nurse checking dressings and all of you who sent beautiful cards wishing me well. You’ve all taught me people on earth really are angels.

Loos women descend into the giggles

Janet moved in with me for the first week after I left hospital. She’s a retired nurse and we both promised we’d be sensible. As usual things descended into farce.

'I'm walking back to happiness after my operation - and I sung through surgery'

Toilet humour (Getty Images/EyeEm)

I have a frame around my loo to help me get up from it. But you can’t swing a cat in my bathroom, especially when my walker’s in there. So when Janet tried to come in to help me, we got stuck. Squished together, she said she’d have to call the Fire Service and they’d need to remove my window and take me out in a fireman’s lift.

Buckling with the hilarity and weak-kneed with hysterics meant we were stuck there longer. Losing myself in laughter helped my recovery just as much as all the physio.

Simply the best to come

Tina Turner (Redferns)

A Tina Turner tribute night, a night of Motown and The Hollies are three shows I plan to see at Venue Cymru as soon as I’m fully on my feet. Before the op I’d hear about such things and try not to feel disappointed at not managing to get out of my house to enjoy the elation of live music. Now, although I still have to practise walking after so long with a bad hip, I’m game!

Fiona diagnosis agonising

Fiona Phillips’ husband Martin said she is “not there” since her Alzheimer’s diagnosis. Those two words broke my heart. If you don’t truly know how Martin feels, it’s because so few in his position like to share how their loved one is slowly inching away. It’s too upsetting.

Fiona Phillips (Dave Benett/Getty Images for The Prince of Egypt)

Sadly, I know what Martin’s going through. Remembering my late husband Colin shortly after his diagnosis aged 58 is painfully vivid. I’d spotted small changes in him but knew they meant something big. Colin lost interest in the newspaper we had delivered at 5.30am every morning for decades. He wasn’t fussed about football, a sport which shaped our family life. He forgot the name of his good friend’s son.

It’s agonising to know something’s not right but to desperately wish you’re wrong. Clinging to fading hope that doctors will say everything’s OK and symptoms are caused by tiredness, stress or worry. Fiona is trialling a new drug and two other drugs were this month hailed a breakthrough because they proved to slow progression of dementia. We live, and pray, in hope.