StemCell Therapy

When lockdown came into force, I was anxious. Im at high risk of getting a severe form of Covid-19, since I have rheumatoid arthritis (RA) and swallow an army of immunosuppressant drugs every day. I live in London with my boy Mr Darcy, my handsome Lucas Terrier but my parents felt it was safer for me to be with them, in Hampshire. We get on well. Ever since I was diagnosed with RA aged 18 (I am now 46) we have been through so much adversity together that we have become a team.

It was March 25, another day, much the same as the day before, I thought, until it happened. I was walking Darcy on Stockbridge Down when I heard my left hip make a crunching sound. Over the past twenty-eight years, I have had multiple joint replacement operations, and two of these have been hip replacements and revision surgery on this particular left-hand side. With every step I made, I winced at this crunching sound like a tyre going over gravel. Unbeknownst to me I had broken my pelvis and fractured my hip. Essentially my replacement joint had shattered.

With Mr Darcy alongside, oblivious to my fear, I staggered a quarter of a mile back to my car. In shock, I drove home. With hindsight, I dont know how I managed to get home.

The following day, an x-ray was taken, confirming a catastrophic hip replacement failure. I was advised not to walk at all (not that I could), to use a wheelchair and if I had to move around the house, to get around on a gutter frame. No stairs. It was frightening going from a generally active person I love my swimming and dog walks to someone trapped in a body, unable to move for fear of doing further damage. To add to the trauma, no operation could be done because of Covid-19.

Ordinarily, I would have had surgery immediately. Yet we were nowhere near the peak of the virus. It was a question of waiting, the surgeon told me. Reluctantly, I could see his point; I understood an operation wasnt possible. I understood the risk of getting the virus too and feared passing it on to my parents. We were stuck.

Almost three months on and I can honestly say the last twelve weeks have been the most gruelling weeks I have ever endured. Mentally I have been down some dark paths: paths of wanting to give up simply take my own life and be done with further pain and surgery. Why bother living like this? I have been down paths of reliving the trauma of previous surgery dreading the operation to come, yet knowing that unless I have it I wont be able to walk my Darcy again, something I so desperately miss.

Originally posted here:
'Ive dislocated my hip and the pain is so bad Ive thought about taking my own life' - Telegraph.co.uk

This entry was posted on June 16, 2020 at 12:46 pm and is filed under Arthritis. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed. |