Wednesday wallow

It always surprises me how illness inevitably and thoroughly sends me back to a small-child mentality. My first thought after hearing I'd need surgery was, 'I want my mum!' Then I imagined being rocked and reassured by my husband (which he probably would have done had he not been away on business). Instead I had girly night and let myself wallow.

I found out that I need surgery to repair my hip. Until a week ago, it didn't even occur to me that it

might that serious. I figured some physio, rest and anti-inflamatories, and I'd be right. I don't like the idea of anaesthetic and post-op pain, but in the long-run that will be better than ongoing, untreated pain. My husband rightly pointed out that aside from six weeks on crutches, it will also likely mean no driving for that time. So I needed a night to throw out the diet and come to terms with my fear of surgery and the implications of recovery time. I drank a margarita (it would have been more than one if I hadn't run out of lime juice), had a Magnum ice cream bar for dessert and watched a cheesy, teen movie with the cat.

After wailing to my husband, I whinged to my mum. My mum pointed out that I won't be able to do housework either. Then today my boss said perhaps if I had a cleaner to help while I'm recovering, then we could not cancel the service once I was better. This could be an extra upshot to having surgery.