Once again I find myself in plaster, through the one and only heatwave our fair isles will probably see this year . . .

My timing as always, impeccable. For the last fortnight, I’ve been in plaster wrist to shoulder, wearing a pyjama top with one sleeve cut off, and sporting a great hairstyle – on one side of my head only!

But then I have managed to come out of it with a shiny new elbow and I’d far rather convalesce in sunshine than showers and if nothing else, it gives us all a break from moaning about the rain. We’ve got to moan about something – we’re British!

Due to the dodgy state of my legs, it seemed sensible to make sure my arms are up to dealing with crutches etc. So I’ve just had my last remaining elbow replaced and boy, have things moved on since my first elbow replacement, just five years ago.

Back then, medics had a very different attitude towards pain. Like their patients, they accepted the inevitability of post-operative pain as a necessary part of the surgical process. There was no such thing as asking patients for a ‘pain score’, as happens now. Painkillers were available and epidural style blocks for the affected limb given in theatre but they just didn’t have the technology and the blocks didn’t always work.

Everyone understood that at some point…it was going to hurt.

Now I don’t want to put anyone off . . . things have moved on since, but the first knee replacement I had was a horrendous experience when the block I was given, only partially worked. I awoke with no problems and was sent back to the ward.  But a couple of hours into the night, my leg came suddenly back to awful, agonising life… Not a pleasant experience but thankfully, now a thing of the past.

Today, nerve blocks used in theatre are guided by clever new equipment to ensure the affected limb is fully numbed, and this can be continued for as long as doctors feel is necessary.

So for a consummate coward, such as myself, the block can be kept going for days after surgery, and then reduced gradually without the awful shock of sudden, full, sensation.

And the motto of this story is? Thank goodness for painkillers, anaesthetics, analgesia … whatever you want to call them, I love them all!

Count your lucky stars if you have no need of pain-relief but if you do, give thanks that we have access to such modern wonders.

And next time you see me battling my way through shopping crowds, give me a wide berth as I now have two titanium elbows giving me serious nudging-power!