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Well we didn't move! Once I'd agreed that I would have surgery we'd asked the neurosurgeon for a time frame, and been told it would all happen in a matter of months. So we took the house off the market thinking it that even if we did manage to sell we had no solid idea where we were going, let alone have time to settle in and make friends. At a Brain Buddy 'away day' at Queens Square, we'd heard from a former patient that familiarity was what she needed after her surgery, so staying put seemed like the best option. We did have time to get our home modified for post surgical life though, having the downstairs loo made in to a shower room with an extra wide door that I could take a wheelchair in should I need to. And strategically placed hand rails, that not only blended in with the design, but served a purpose. I even found an iDry.me and had it installed for when I couldn't use a towel.

BUT as you can see from the last newsletter, if you're a subscriber (if not why not? my newsletters are very infrequent and never salesy, that's just not me), I walked out of hospital under my own steam. Even though I'd been warned of something called Supplementary Motor Area Syndrome, and that because of where they were operating I'd definitely get it, and not be able to move my right side and need months of therapy, I still said yes though. I did come round from the operation not being able to move my right side, or speak in full sentences. But then my hand started moving, then my arm, and with daily physiotherapy, before I knew it I was up and walking. The neurosurgeons on their daily rounds were amazed, and one even took a video of my hand moving on the second day, to show Professor McEvoy who'd done the operation.  My old consultant, Professor Duncan, who I'd been with for 20+ years came to see me and I was able to shake his hand. He recalled the first time he'd met me more than 25 years ago when my father had taken me to The Chalfont Centre in Buckinghamshire for a second opinion. He said even then I'd been seizing so much he'd had to send for Rescue Medication. That was when I'd moved consultants from The Royal Free Hospital to Queens Square, and he'd taken over my care. He had actually offered me an operation years ago, but I'd turned him down. They have to tell you the statistics you see and if I was a suitable candidate, there was only 30% chance it would reduce my seizures. I had a young family and some quality of life to lose so I said no, but knowing now what I do, I don't think they had the technology to do this operation a decade ago. But when Max went to University I said yes and the many pre-op tests began. Then COVID and all paused.

Anyway that seems so long ago, but also how time flies!

I feel incredibly lucky to have been given this new chance, especially as my art started during a prolonged stay at The Chalfont Centre in Buckinghamshire. Now I still have epilepsy and occasionally get the odd sensation, well very strange if I'm honest, but my husband has an analogy and it's a good one. I'm like a decommissioned gun, all they did was take the firing pin away!

That's why I'll be forever grateful, and I'd like to gift the team of neurosurgeons and anaesthetists 'Rewired' as it was the first painting I did after my surgery. I'm going to take it to The National Hospital For Neurology And Neurosurgery when I go to London for FLUX Exhibition at The Bomb Factory in September.