Heavenly Beverley : To Middle Age (or Infinity) and Beyond!

Becoming middle-aged is definitely not for the faint of heart. Bits of my body periodically seem to stop working or fall apart or one then the other. Then, there's the joke about the elderly couple waking up one morning. The good lady is convinced she's dead. After some testy moments, her husband asks her why she believes she is deceased. Her response, "well I'm awake and nothing hurts". I rest my case.

The Boy Wonder, or in his mild-mannered alter ego of Mister Ben Kimberley, has been putting me back together far more often than I consider to be particularly seemly. In the last seven years, he has repaired both my shoulders, my left carpal tunnel, my right forearm, my left ankle and now my left knee. Twice.

During a year that I have been extraordinarily careless, I have fallen repeatedly onto my knees, causing two quite independent injuries, both of which have required grease and oil changes and bloody good cleanouts.

January was not a good start to 2017as my knees hit concrete pavers at speed, after tripping over the garden hose. My body weight following close behind did not help the situation. Worst still, I was stone-cold sober so the fall really hurt.

The repair in May by Ben and anaesthetist Anna was awesome. Having entered the Mount Hospital on crutches, I left, slightly lopsided, under my own steam. Suitably smug, I was given the all-clear to begin exercise again and hopefully improve my completely-lacking fitness.

Our Queensland Odyssey seemed like the perfect launching pad for more exercise and increasing the tone of my wibbly-wobbly muscles. First stop out of Bundaberg, at Monto, revealed the mystery of the Monal mining centre, which had just been abandoned when the gold ran out. We set out through the extremely hilly bush to visit and explore the remains of Monal.

The drive was challenging and the country spectacular. Inquisitive cattle watched our progress. After two hours, we reached our destination. And our jaws dropped. On a rocky ridge, mining equipment and machinery were strewn around. A gold stamper and several boilers were the most recognisable objects. Climbing onto one of the boilers to take photographs, I failed to navigate the open hatch and went down the hole like a sack of very substantial potatoes. Bollocks.

Initially, I hoped I hadn't further injured the long-suffering knee. The bruising up my left thigh was quite extensive and colourful and I had also taken a sizable chunk off my right shin. I crossed my fingers for the rest of the holiday and we returned home none the wiser.

As I had a follow-up appointment with the Boy Wonder, he organised an MRI to ascertain any further damage. Another quick dash for Dad's funeral and I eventually phoned through for the results at the beginning of October.

Ben had left a one-word explanation. Surgery. Bummer.

And so, armed with china mugs, freshly ground coffee, a plunger and my favourite teabags, we entered the Mount Hospital on Tuesday morning. Michael was boarding with me. The surgery went without a hitch although we did feel at times that our room was located at a major intersection. The traffic noise from Mount's Bay Road was clearly audible and we were also right next to the junction of the Wandoo Ward's doors and the shortcut to theatre.

Funniest of all was greeting Sue, manager of Salon Express in Midland, in one of the bays in Pre-op. She was also waiting for an arthroscopy. We wished each other a speedy recovery as I was wheeled out to the inner sanctum of the operating room.

Why is the theatre table so narrow? Wriggling my generous body from my bed onto a flat surface the width of an ironing board was somewhat inelegant. I couldn't help wondering about those who were more cuddly in shape than me having a similar difficulty.

Surgery over, I snoozed for most of the afternoon, enjoyed my dinner, snoozed some more and made an effort to stay awake to watch Gruen. The knee was surprisingly tender and I began worrying that I might have needed to bring my crutches into hospital after all.

Fortunately, good pain relief and some sleep fixed that problem. Getting enough rest in hospital isn't as easy as one might think. Between tablets and observations and trips to the loo, the night was fairly crowded with activities other than slipping into Cloud Cuckoo Land. But we survived with good humour and eventually exited the Mount yesterday morning.

After a surprising busy afternoon - shopping, a haircut for Michael and a cup of tea with Sandra - we arrived home around five. I had an early evening nap which galvanised me for dinner and TV.

Today, I am back in the Gallery and apart from being rather tired and having a clunky knee, I am feeling almost back to normal. I will be having an afternoon siesta prior to Pub Night as I intend to enjoy our routine Friday night date.

From now on, I have decided that I must pay far more attention to the position of my feet in order to remain upright. Falling is unpleasant. Particularly when sober.