The road to recovery

You may remember, at the end of September, my back ‘went’ – this is a handy word that covers all kinds of episodes, incidents and peculiarities – and it has only just, very recently, returned. 

Being incapacitated is not fun. Pain is tiring. 
You get to the stage where you fib if anyone dares to ask how you are as the sound of hearing yourself moan, again, again, and once more for luck is just so dull and boring. 

Old lady grunts (lots), profanities tumbling from mouth un-restrained (not pretty), not being able to drive (frustrating), blue toe nails (hideous colour, not one I'd ever choose) were quite common-place and it became hard to imagine any kind of normality and comfort would ever return. 

It took Mick, hypnosis, hospital, an amazing surgeon’s magical mojo, several injections (caudal epidural, facets and sacroiliac joints for those who want the minutia of information :)), my family and most cool friends to help me heal. But, recover I did because of having such amazing love and support. Thank you.

In other news, we are now living the dream of having a Greek Island home to complement our one here in the UK. This means I can offer more retreats and specialist holidays for groups and individuals on Lesvos. Squeal and happy dance. Gently... just in cases x

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