Thank you again for all your prayers, well wishes and support. The operation went without a hitch although, not so events leading up to it. Let me tell you the tale. The surgery was booked for Monday 27th November and I was asked to report in at 07:30. My wife Tina was going to run me to the hospital. I suggested a meal out together on Sunday evening, but she said the she would prefer to eat at home, to which she would prepare roast beef, a particular favourite of mine. My overnight bag was packed with wash, shave and toiletries as well as underwear changes, pyjamas and a loose fitting track suit to wear when discharged. Everything was ready. It was then that I heard a loud cry from the kitchen. I rushed in and found that Tina had spilt boiling water and in doing so, had scalded her foot. Remembering her paramedic skills, she told me to fill a bowl with cold water, whilst she was soaking her foot in that I got a handful of ice cubes to keep the water cold. Quickly, I got the car out, carefully helped her in and took her to the emergency department at the nearest hospital. The quick action had saved her from serious damage, but she was in a lot of pain and unable to drive. The hospital treated her injury, gave her some strong pain killers and told her to return the next day. She was distraught. Tina convinced me that she was well enough to take care of herself and not to cancel my surgery, so a phone call to a good friend for a lift to the hospital and my operation was back on. At seven thirty I checked in, was shown to my room, got undressed and into my theatre gown. Then came a string of medical visitors. Blood pressure, blood sample, urine sample, my surgeon, who made sure of no mistake by inking my left leg with graffiti, then there was this, that and the other. After all that I had time to text Tina, she reassured me that would be fine and that a neighbour was more than happy to run her to the hospital. My next visitor was the anaesthetist who talked me through the procedure and checked that I hadn't had anything to eat or drink since midnight. Satisfied he said: "Ready then?" And off we went, walking to the operating theatre. Once there, I was instructed to sit on the table with my legs hanging over the side. I was asked to adopt an arched back position, like an angry cat is the way they put it. The surgeon was probing my vertebrae for the epidural space into which he was going to inject a local anaesthetic. The anaesthetist then injected directly into the epidural. The effect was immediate, I was completely paralysed from the waist down. They asked if I could lift my legs and lay on my back ready for surgery. Not a chance, the medical team lifted me into the operating position. It was at this point that I was catheterised, I wasn't even aware of it. The effect of the anaesthetic was a weird sensation, I knew what was going on but had no sense of touch below the waist. My demeanour must have been one of concern because I remember the anaesthetist coming around the operating table, gently squeezing my shoulders, reassuring me that I was doing fine. I looked up to make eye contact and to say thank you, and found myself looking at the nurse in the recovery room. It was all over, they must have given me a secondary drug to knock me out, although I don't recall it. But there it was, all done and dusted and my surgeon shaking hands with me. I'll share some of the lighter moments of recovery and of the texts between Tina and myself later, but for now, here's my new bionic hip. Can you see the screws?