Tough love? It’s a super medicine

IT WOULD be a fib to say I missed writing last week, because I found the first days at home after my hip surgery daunting.

It’s so strange to feel relatively helpless in your own environment. I confess there were times I felt miserable (the pain) and frustrated. And you know what helped? Tough love.

The first time came when I had to get out of bed on my own (desperate for the loo) and turned the air blue with irritation at myself. How therapeutic that cursing was when the only victim was me! What’s more, it made me laugh to think what a mad old biddy I must look.

Whenever I caught myself thinking, ‘Oh, this is so hard’, I fixed my mind on those who have endured real pain — like my own late brother who broke his back in a car accident when he was 19 and bravely endured a lifetime of suffering.

Then I thought about all the incredibly brave soldiers who suffered appalling injuries in Afghanistan — especially a wonderful man called Steve (a dear friend of my daughter and sonin-law) who last Saturday married his gorgeous Jess, walking proudly through confetti on new prosthetic legs.

They met through the marvellous charity Help For Heroes, and all I can do is quote Shakespeare: ‘O brave new world, that has such people in it…’

You can do yourself real good by thinking about people who are worse off, thus administering a necessary slap to your own face. Wouldn’t you love to airlift all the students whimpering about ‘safe spaces’ into the chaos of a refugee camp and get them to distribute food?

One of my favourite missives was waiting for me when I came home. Containing warm wishes from a much-esteemed man I know, it nevertheless quipped: ‘Incidentally, as someone who has survived two 14-hour operations you aren’t going to get much sympathy from me!’

That dose of tough love was as efficient in its way as painkillers — because it made me laugh out loud. Humility and humour... they see you through a lot.

Bel answers readers’ questions on emotional and relationship problems each week. Write to Bel Mooney, Scottish Daily Mail, 20 Waterloo Street, Glasgow G2 6DB, or email bel.mooney@dailymail.co.uk. A pseudonym will be used if you wish. Bel reads all letters but regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence.