I pick up where I left you last having touched down in the “green and pleasant land” what is Blighty. Devoed to not have been able to take full advantage of business class (leg to be elevated at all times, travel insurance win!!)

But due to alcohol ban from anti blood clot meds and the like (#nofreechampers…fail!) but the proper cutlery, moving seat with 6 buttons to play with (spot the non business traveller) and extra space made up for it. Entertainment much to be desired, 10hrs in I actually had to resort to this….

But made it back alive, albeit with a swollen comedy sumo leg thanks to the cabin pressure!!!!

Never been so glad to see a hefty passport control queue guarded by stony faced border force agents who make the SS look like lost members of the Mickey Mouse club! Ahhh home sweet home.

Much needed family reunion and comedy of errors wheelchair trundle to airport parking (accompanied by chorus of “now where did we park the sodding car”) and “sorry about the horrific accident drama” niceties with parents out the way, we head straight to A&E near home with the expectations of being wheeled into surgery.

Don’t need me to tell anyone that our beloved NHS is so very broken, but didn’t expect a 2 week wait for my op after arriving home!! That I so could have done without. I did get an plaster cast (at last! 4 days of a leg flapping about in the wind and no pain killers enough to make me sympathise with that bloke in 127 hrs who just chopped his sodding arm off to be done with it!!)

And yes I chose pink glitter…because quite frankly I had a broken leg and I’ll do whatever the hell I want thank you! Yes the glitter is usually reserved for the under 5s apparently…and no I don’t care. “Extra” can be my middle bloody name after what I’ve been through so far…

Told to await the call for surgery and eventually discharged home where operation “welcome to your new life on the sofa…You live here now” well and truly began.

The rents were absolute gems the entire time, no denying. Everything I wanted on hand, looking after me with gold standard care and filling the very big and very present Liz shaped void like pros.

“Unforeseen” circumstances and a whole load of cursing the state of public healthcare In our borough meant an agonising 14 days passed before I was actually operated on.

Bedridden life following 3 weeks of adventure a juxtaposition I really wasn’t used to.

I knew it was bad after 10 days when I had watched so much daytime telly I was contemplating calling into The Wright Stuff to air my outraged views on illicit junk mail….step away from the Tv!!! Never wanted someone to cut my leg open on an operating table more!!!

Glossing over the “state of the nation” rant I finally got summoned to a trauma slot and surgery awaited….Not before I had been given some particularly glam new garments to help me seamlessly blend in.

And of course the extensive pre operative assessment which consisted of 2 things:

1) can you pee in this cup for us to test it

Later informed the urine test was Negative…when i asked what it was for? “To check if youre pregnant of course” well i could’ve sodding well told em that!!! Immaculate conception mach 2, Mary mother of Jesus is reborn the rate my bloody love life is going. I should be so bloomin’ lucky Mrs Nurse Lady! (she wasnt amused…)

2) draw a MASSIVE comedy arrow on my leg so they knew which one to drill in (#encouraging!!!)

Comedy at every turn, cos it’s my life of course (and also cos this whole pile of dog shit is easier when you try and look out for the “lols”)

Started by being whisked into a private room with a telly and a little bathroom and separate changing room. Came out naked save for my hot new stripey operating gown (why do they just do up at the back and leave your arse hanging out…someone tell me the medical need for that exactly?!?…)

I sat in front of the telly waiting to be called to theatre only to find an old man wander into my room to take a dump in my en suite toilet. Tipped his hat as if to say “evenin” and carried on his merry way. Not even a patient!!! Just a regular man!!! Maybe even a member of staff. At this rate given all the palavas i wondered if he might even be doing my sodding surgery!!! Part of the patient / operating team pre op bonding process. Place is falling to ruins i tell you, this plus the giant arrow was not filling me with optimism for the slicing and dicing ahead!!!

Unceremoniously said goodbye the the parentals who were, like me, in a state of “we will believe this is actually happening and won’t get cancelled for the 48th time once we can actually hear the drilling through the leg!!!” and whisked into aesthetics.

6 people asking simultaneous questions, getting me to sign forms, taking blood, fitting canulas and pumping me with knock out drugs is just the kind of calm serenity you need before a major operation. Did well to calm my nerves!!!!! Wasnt sure what id bloody well signed as someone held a mask over my face and counted back from 10. Just prayed I’d wake up to find a fixed leg and not that I’d in fact signed something to say they could chop it off and give it to med students to practice their colouring in!!!

Pray for me xx