Bringing Flexi Back

Did I just make a pun about my spine using a Justin Timberlake song lyric from 2006? Yes. Am I ashamed? No. Actually, I am a little, because a) the song is highly problematic in its culturally-appropriative and heteronormative discourses and b) it's nearly ten years old, which shows up the questionable music tastes of my much-less-politically-aware teenage self. With that as a caveat, then, I shall proceed with today's post - because it was too perfect a summation of the topic to ignore.

As will be obvious from the titles of my previous blogs (Walking by 2013 and 2015) my focus, for the greater part of the last few years, has been on my legs - or, more accurately, my limbs. The reason for that is twofold. Firstly, I was training to walk to collect my degree, and for walking, in the literal rather than colloquial sense of the word, one principally requires strong legs. Secondly, when my chair broke, it had such a detrimental effect on my core abdominal stability that I (somewhat ironically for a non-ambulant individual) didn't have much else to keep me upright other than those legs and arms.

Since I got my new chair, though, my stability is much improved. This means that I actually have the energy to work on my core again and to get the muscles back into the habit of supporting me. It also means I feel safe enough to move in a more flexible way. These are both hugely important if I want to maintain and extend the positive difference my consultant has observed in my spine. So, over the last few days, I've been incorporating exercises which have more emphasis on my upper body - from the mission of trying to reach my toes to (slightly less adventurous) diaphragmatic breathing, the latter in preparation for my first singing lesson in an absolute age at some point this week. 

Hopefully, if I keep up this regime, I've got a chance of bringing 'flexi' back - and maybe even the original JT lyric...who knows!?

Spinal countdown - #LovemyNHS

Today's post is a bit more detailed, and full of many emotions, but hopefully once you've read it its importance will be clear - both on a personal and a sociopolitical level. Bear with me!

This week, but especially last night and this morning, I have been a great big ball of nerves. Why? Well, today was my annual review appointment with my spinal consultant, and I was worried. Those of you who read Walking by 2015 might remember my joy, in May of last year, when he told me that my curve hadn't changed since our last check up in 2012. The thing is, May was only one month into life with a broken chair, and little did I know then how long I'd be left with it - or what an impact it would have on both my physical and mental health.

This time I was well aware of the beating my body has taken over the last fifteen months, so I was fully expecting the X-ray not only to be different but to have drastically deteriorated. Hence my anxiety - which led me to tweet banal and blackly humorous puns like 'Destressing before tomorrow's hospital appt by listening to The Kinks...because my spine has a few?' last night and to skip breakfast due to a swarm of particularly persistent butterflies in my stomach this morning. I was only slightly comforted by the appointment being at Guy's hospital (first established 1726), and the thought that I would be surrounded by reminders of my beloved era (though its original title, 'The Hospital for Incurables', might've served to remove the last vestiges of that comfort!). Ah, eighteenth-century bluntness! I suppose, at least, they didn't unnecessarily sugarcoat things. Bad news was given up front, like ripping off a plaster, not that they could do that then because Elastoplast hadn't been invented... These were the sort of over-analytical thoughts with which I attempted to console myself as we drove to Southwark, listening to thirteenth-century dance pieces on Radio 3 in the absence of any Baroque. Because that's how I roll.

Here is where we shift emotional gears, from jitters to joy. It turns out I needn't have been anxious - not only were there three lovely and understanding radiographers, and an X-ray chair which meant I could have it taken whilst sitting in a comfortable position, but the outcome was good. When I met with my consultant, the first thing he said was 'Wow, you're sitting better!', and, when we were examining the image, it seems that my spine has not just stayed the same but may actually even have improved! I'm rather thrilled by that, for obvious reasons, if slightly overwhelmed - I wasn't aware that it was possible for a curvature as severe as mine to get better (however marginally). I guess I'm  continuing to do what my paediatric orthopaedic consultant said I did, way back when I was twelve - bucking trends! (Or maybe I haven't given the Oxford cobbles due credit...!)

Mostly, though, I'm grateful. Super grateful. I don't have to have surgery, which is a huge relief, and it shows the benefits of a working chair, suitable seating and good postural management. If the difference in my seating position is noticeable just three weeks after I got my new chair, imagine the possibilities for further improvement before my appointment this time next year! It also underscores the value of a working and well-supported National Health Service, without which I and many of my friends would be unable to receive these regular checkups and continued care. For all my frustrations regarding the delays with my chair, I'm very conscious that they were largely a result of the increased workload (and decreased numbers) of staff with few other options thanks to copious cuts. I'm also extremely aware that the people I met at Guy's today (from the receptionist to the radiographers I mentioned above) are working under similarly difficult conditions - yet they went out of their way to be friendly, helpful and understanding. Jeremy Hunt should take note and give them, and their colleagues nationwide, the thanks and support they deserve. To use a metaphor appropriate to this piece, they have more backbone than he and the rest of this government put together. 

Which returns me to my spine. It's not perfect, but it's fine, and that's such a relief. I can sit up, and it seems my sitting up is making a difference, for the better. To celebrate, Mama and I went for a zoom along the South Bank, and I took the opportunity to indulge my thespian self by taking the photo below at the side of the National Theatre. The finger is publicity for the current production of Everyman, but its angle also shows just how well I'm sitting now! (Right, that's enough emotional rambling from me. Suffice to say that this spinal countdown is well and truly over. Huzzah!)

#IamEverywheely ;)

'Nice ride!'

Happy Saturday! Today's post is the first of many which will feature my beloved Hampstead Heath - the 7-mile stretch of (mostly) untamed parkland we are lucky enough to have just across the road. Over the last two-and-a-bit weeks, thanks to a combination of my new chair and this gorgeous weather we've had, I've been able to spend a lot of time there - usually, like today, with the dogs in tow. Mum and I took them for a ramble this morning, which is when the inspiration for this post occurred.

I was zooming down the first part of what eventually becomes Parliament Hill (so named following Guido Fawkes et al.'s Gunpowder Plot, because you could and can spot Westminster Palace from the top). Now, when I say 'zooming', I really mean zooming, because I can do it again. Carefully, of course, and respecting those around me - but relishing the feeling of the sun on my back, the wind in my hair, and the possibility of picking up some rather impressive speed. Aside from making sure that I wasn't disturbing any of my fellow Heath-goers, and checking on my dear dogs (who I'll introduce properly soon, because they deserve a post of  their own), I was pretty much in my own world. 

Imagine my surprise, then, at being lifted out of this reverie by the  gentle 'Hey' of a smiley (and attractive) Australian guy about my age who, when he caught my eye, followed his greeting with 'nice ride!'. I must admit I didn't know how to respond, so I just giggled and drove on, probably blushing furiously. I was caught off guard - not so much because he spoke to me as by the originality of his comment. Most people, however fast I'm going, shout 'don't get a speeding ticket!' and cackle away at the brilliance of their quip. (Except it isn't brilliant - if I had a pound [or even a penny!] for every time that particular line has been brought out, I'd be well on the way to paying off my student loan! Alas.) So to have someone not only say something different but for it to be positive, nay, approving...was, well, novel. And nice. More than that, though, his phrasing accounted for the importance of my chair whilst also acknowledging that we are separate entities. I don't live in it, I 'ride' in it - and apparently look rather good whilst doing so. That meant a lot - and was a huge boost to my self-esteem!

So, thanks, whoever you were - maybe in future I'll be more confident haha...