It’s hard to remember a time in my life when I was truly happy. Other than when I was a child when everything was simple and there are no tough decisions to make. The most tragic thing that happens is your brother pulling the heads off your barbies, or peeling their flesh off so they look like terminator dolls. I’ve had a lot of struggles in my few years. I was born with CDH (Congenital Dysplasia of the Hips). Not an uncommon affliction for females, but it was untreated for the first six months of my life and has since caused many problems. I always had trouble with clicking in my hips and from a young age would tell my friends about my birth defect (sounds dramatic but can you think of a better term?). One ‘friend’ did not believe my story despite showing them pictures and bringing in the braces I wore around my pelvis and legs from the age of 6 months. I would do exercises in the playground and she would taunt me saying I was attention seeking and there was nothing wrong with me. 

I was never the sportiest of people but always enjoyed gymnastics and dancing. When I was about 11 I started trampolining and was hooked from that first bounce. The freedom I felt when I was soaring through the air was second to none. I remember my mum telling me I bounced the highest. Then I was pushed too far by an over ambitious coach and damaged my back. It was never the same after that. Before that I had loved doing somersaults. That wibbly feeling in my tummy as I turned 360 degrees in the air. I hated rollercoasters because of that feeling but, so long as I was in control, I loved it. Once I returned to the only sport I had ever truly enjoyed I was terrified of the thought of somersaults. I associated them with the pain I had suffered due to being pushed too far. I would spend entire sessions doing tuck jumps in preparation for my once loved ‘summies’ but would go home still without conquering my fears. Eventually I decided enough was enough and it was time to give it up. I had given up many hobbies in my short life; ballet, piano, gymnastics but trampolining was a passion I never wanted to quit. 

I reached 15 and started a paper round. It was ridiculously long for how much I was earning and most of the time mum or dad would drive me round. The few times I did it alone were unbearable and took triple the time I was being paid for. I once fell down someones stairs as there was no light to guide me. Eventually I quit and not long after sought a referral to hospital as my hip condition had started to cause me problems. My first consultant was named Mr Smith and I cannot say I have fond memories of him. I attended my first meeting with my dad and despite being 16 and perfectly articulate he refused to address me directly and instead spoke through my dad. The only thing I remember him actually answering was when I asked if I could continue trampolining. His answer was simply no.

I was referred to a hospital in Chorley under the care of Mr Mohammed. Supposedly he was an expert. He operated on me 3 times over the space of 4 years with no success. He injected me with steroids directly into my hip joint which numbed the area for a day but did not relieve any pain. When I told him I had been numbed he considered that success. I however do not consider one nights worth of uncomfortable numbness to be success. 3 arthroscopies later he practically called me a liar as I had not experienced any relief from them. In fact the third and final time he operated on me he caught a nerve in my right leg which, two years later, still caused me problems. One procedure I had under his care was an arthrogram. They injected a dye directly into my hip joint and then did an MRI. This was meant to give them a more detailed MRI. At my next consultation I asked about the results and his reply was along the lines of, 'that was pointless'. Of all the surgeries I've had that was still the most painful experience of my life. As the dye filled my joint it felt as though my hip was going to explode. I had to bite my lip to stop from screaming in agony.

My mum researched my condition and found a specialist Orthopaedic hospital near Oswestry which I still attend. I have had two triple pelvic osteotomys under Mr Kiely. Though only the one on my right hip has been successful, I have finally found a surgeon who listens and seems to understand me. I am still fighting what I feel is a losing battle, but at least I now have someone who I have a little faith in.