Chapter 22

‘Wellness encompasses a healthy body, a sound mind, and a tranquil spirit. Enjoy the journey as you strive for wellness.’ Laurette Gagnon Beaulieu

I’ve had a few injuries. Several to my fingers. They are so vulnerable, aren’t they? These protrusions, sticking out like little sausages, are so susceptible to harm and mine are no different. As a child a very heavy wooden chair fell on the ring finger of my right hand, flattening the fingertip and damaging the nail. I live with it. I was at middle school at the time and sitting exams. I thought it might have got me out of them. It didn’t!

A few years ago, my thumb got caught in the car door, eventually causing the nail to fall off. There were a few expletives that day I can tell you. If you have ever trapped a finger or thumb in a car door, you will know exactly what I mean.

Playing netball in March, I hurt my finger. I shook it off and thought nothing of it. Probably about half an hour later I felt some discomfort in my hand, I looked down and I saw my finger was a bit of an odd shape; bent and crooked.

I was horrified, but to be fair it didn’t really hurt. Four weeks later, when I definitely realised it wasn’t going to heal, I went for an x-ray which surprise, surprise showed it was well and truly broken and the break had torn the tendon, completely. It was gone. Six weeks of being in a splint was uncomfortable, but when I took it off, it wasn’t this perfectly formed finger I was expecting to see. It was crooked, very swollen and the tip was dipped. I was to say the least, distressed. Over four months later, its improving and the tendon is repairing. I told myself at the time, in one of my braver moments that I was going to make sure my finger would look better than it did. But it’s taking a while and will take a while longer yet.

I realised amidst all the distress, that I was grieving for my finger. Strange I know. My previously beautifully formed finger, would never be quite the same again. But it might be. I need to give it time. It functions perfectly well and doesn’t look too bad, but I will need to wear a splint when I play netball. The thoughts of even knocking it fills me with horror.

People suffer far worse than this every single day. So, once I’d got over myself, I started to work hard on strengthening the tip, and reducing the swelling. I will never give up. The nurse who requested the x-ray told me it would go back to normal; others said it would stay like that. I was going to prove the nurse right. Little by little, I will. I have made my finger my priority. I told our Kevin I’d just been offered a hand modelling job, and now that was off the table. He told me not to make him laugh. He has a dicky heart.

It also reminded me of the time I fell off a ladder at work and broke my arm. FOOSH – fall on  outstretched hand can lead to a fracture of the arm and that’s exactly what I did. I read that you are not always aware that you have fractured your arm when you fall in this way, and this was definitely the case for me. A few hours later I was in A&E with my dad, waiting for my husband to arrive from work. A broken arm is probably not considered a priority in A&E, but it is so bloody painful and there is nothing you can do; you have to go. I was in there for hours even then, which was in the late eighties. It was horrendous, protecting my arm from a drunk sat at the side of me was particularly difficult. But broken it was as my x-ray indicated. No plaster cast for me, just a sling. I felt like a fraud. I went back to work the following day and carried on as normal. Fingers were like little fat sausages for a while, which was funny, rather than uncomfortable. The doctors told me it wouldn’t straighten, but it did.

Becoming 60 I was to enter the bowel screening programme. I am more than happy to do this. I received a bowel pack from the NHS, not long after my birthday. It was pretty good for the NHS. I urge anyone who is eligible to enter this programme to step right up and take your rightful place.

Doing the prep may be a little daunting for some, but it’s only between you and your poo; carried out in what should be the most private place in the house and it takes just a couple of minutes. Just a very small and quick job that could save your life. So, get over yourself and when you get confirmation, agree to having the bowel pack sent and when the box drops through the letter box, open it up, read what you need to do and do it! Don’t throw it in the bin.

Good health however, is not simply about physical health but also mental health. Having strong relationships and friendships around us are important if we are to stay mentally well, in an often-challenging world and an often challenging life. Just before the pandemic hit I met my dear friend Brigitte at a coaching course and we have stayed friends ever since. Even a pandemic couldn’t prevent us from creating those strong foundations that still exist today.

Depression hits 1 in 4 of us at some point in our lives. It’s not something to be ashamed of. With poor mental health and suicide on the increase, it’s something we should all look out for in our family, friends and work colleagues. Your concern may just save someone’s life.

In chapter 14 I talk about my father’s death and what was happening at the time. Having just come back from London, I had no home to call my own and no job, my life had literally been turned upside down. I was relying on the kindness of others to help me stay afloat. I would either sink or swim. Thankfully I swam. With the help of a fantastic GP who booked a double appointment with me, he recognised what I was going through, he listened to my ramblings, through shedloads of tears; held my hand if only metaphorically speaking and was genuinely kind and concerned.

I told him I wanted one last time to talk to my dad, to say how much I loved him. He told me to talk to him, tell him how much I loved him. Feeling a bit self-conscious, I did.