Joys of having a new hip
I’ M still 53, admittedly hanging on by a thread as my birthday’s this week, and all about me, my peers are leaping, gambolling and generally bounding about the place. I think you’ll guess what I’m about to say next – on their brand spanking new hips.
week my friend and colleague Eamonn Holmes, joyfully recovering from a double hip replacement he’d put off for far too long, bravely spelled out the agony of aching atrophied hip joints.
He could manage to walk with the strange barrelling gait of a monkey, could barely stand and was the only dad at his son’s football matches plonked on the touchline in a plastic picnic chair.
I have no fewer than three chums delighted at the new spring in their steps, two about to go under the knife and half a dozen comfortably scaling hill and dale on their several- yearsold bionic joints.
Who knew, though, that just like practically everything else in our lives, hip problems are very different for boys and girls?
Apparently – despite Eamonn gamely joking that his comely wife Ruth wore out his old hips and now “she’s got to help wear them in” – dodgy hips don’t materially dent a gentleman’s ability to enjoy a frolicsome sex life.
Unfortunately, it’s we women who suffer on the chaise longue when our hips go on the blink. Orthopaedic surgeons admit they often forget to quiz the fairer sex on the subject of boudoir satisfaction.
“Traditionally,” said surgeon Simon Tilley, “when it comes to hip replacements, sex is not talked about.” So it has come as a royal surprise to doctors and patients alike just what a difference that having the operation can make.
When finally asked the direct question: “Do you think that a return to comfortable sexual intercourse is reason enough alone for undergoing a hip replacement?” Twenty- eight per cent of women said “Yes” before the operation but even more – 36 per cent – said “Yes, yes, yes!” afterwards.
Let’s face it, there’s a risk to every operation and some have less reliable outcomes than others. But 50,000 women a year have their arthritic hip replaced in the UK so doctors have had the chance to iron out the kinks and provide a truly Rolls- Royce service.
Watching those you love creep, hunched and leaning on sticks into the hospital, only to come out renewed, revivified and all ready to rock and roll just a few weeks later is simply sensational.
THIS makes us feel like going down on our recently replaced knees to give thanks to all that made it possible.
And it makes us bless the wonderful NHS; the nurses who ease us through the pain, the physiotherapists who give us the skill and oomph to walk again, the scientists who formulated the implants, the surgeons who insert them and the anaesthetists who keep us alive while they do it. AS a reality TV pioneer and veteran: Strictly Come Dancing, two Big Brothers, three Weakest Links, Celebrity Fit Club, Celebrity Sleepover – you get the picture – I am abjectly horrified at the litany of injuries emanating from Channel 4’ s The Jump.
I bailed at the jungle. “No thank you,” I told the I’m A Celebrity... Get Me Out Of Here! producers, “I’d be dreadful at everything. I’d be useless at jumping out of planes, eating kangaroo testicles and existing on rice and beans.” Of course, each time I explained what an utter incompetent
LOOKING a touch more svelte prior to her tour, Adele wins even more hearts
and minds by admitting candidly that she’s still dependent on heavy- duty control lingerie to tame her curves. Male commentators said the singer, 27, “joked” that putting it on was “like pumping a
sausage bag full of meat”. Female commentators noted that there was nothing even remotely humorous in Adele’s remarks, which were no more than scrupulously
accurate.
EVEN THIS REALITY TV VETERAN WOULDN’T GO ANYWHERE NEAR THE JUMP
ass I’d be they increased their offer. Cash made no difference.
I could barely survive in the Big Bro House so I knew I couldn’t hack it in Oz. I was also asked to do Celebrity Shark Tank and Celebrity Detox. I declined both with thanks. It is quite clear that the ante has been upped as television companies scrabble to compete for ratings.
What fresh hell can be inflicted on the barely famous for the nation’s viewing pleasure? Can we dismember them? Dip them in deadly poison? Paint them blue and force them to walk the plank? I write as someone hit so hard by what was meant to be a polystyrene partition on Hole In The Wall that I could hardly use my right arm for eight months, when I issue the plea: producers, this has gone too far.
Beth Tweddle broke her back. Rebecca Adlington dislocated her shoulder. Mark- Francis Vandelli broke his ankle, Linford Christie pulled a hamstring, Tina Hobley fractured her arm. What more proof do you need that the show is too dangerous for amateurs? Stop it right now before you kill somebody.