HIPS, KNEES AND
BUMPSADAISY!
Belle tackles the ‘big A’
First of all, I’d like to apologise to my mother,
my ex-sister-in-law and numerous friends
from Old Alresford and Bighton, for never
realising quite how much they suffered when
they were in the throes of arthritis. They
were truly stoic. The most I ever heard from
them was “I have to go in for a hip/knee
replacement.” Not “I can’t move for the pain!”
or “Help me up please” or even “Owww!” –
three cries that, this week alone, my
Personal Handyman has heard all too
frequently.
Nobody tells you how quickly arthritis comes
on. I don’t mean the silent creeping process
which you don’t feel until one day your hip
threatens to give way completely, and you
lurch against a shop counter so that the
assistant talks to you in a kindly way that
makes you feel as if you’re 90. I’m talking
about what happens after that moment,
when in the space of a couple of weeks you
go from walking with a spring in your step to
tossing and turning in bed because there are
few ways, other than a soak in the bath, to
lessen the pain. (Pillow between the legs?
Didn’t work! Paracetamol? Maybe in a triple
dose!)
I also never realised how prevalent arthritis
is. In the week I went for my x-ray, I heard of
two other people I know who have also been
referred to the hospital for hip x-rays this
week. What is this, a virus? Incidentally, the
hospital laughingly called it a ‘walk-in’ x-ray
service.
Painkillers: is it beyond the ability