The warning signs.

The thing about hindsight is that it always focuses on the things you’ve missed.

And when I look back now, I can’t believe how obvious it all was.

How naïve I was not to challenge my GP.

But let me explain.

At the same time as my slow-healing burn, I was also dealing with a toothache.

This wasn’t anything new. It was the same tooth that had been bothering me for years – ever since a dentist, during my time at university, decided a section of gum around it needed to be removed. Don’t ask. I never understood it either.

But after that fairly minor procedure, the tooth was never quite the same. It flared up from time to time – always for a few days, before disappearing again – but this time, it was becoming a nuisance. So, I made an appointment to get it checked out.

This led to several visits with the dentist over the next few weeks, and, while I’ll spare you the gory details, the outcome was that I had to get the tooth removed. The trouble was, this didn’t exactly fix the pain. In fact, it made things a whole lot worse.

The gap left behind refused to heal. They called it a dry socket. And my god, it was painful.

If you’ve ever experienced it, you’ll understand. If you haven’t… I pray you never do.

I was taking mondo-doses of painkillers every four hours, like clockwork, along with antibiotics. I was also struggling to sleep at night, what with the never-ending pain pulsing through the left side of my face. And, at least once a day, I would have a little cry to myself – partly out of frustration, partly just feeling sorry for myself.

But, in spite of it all, the dentist did try her best to help. She even referred me to the dental hospital in Glasgow for further tests. But really, there was very little they could do at that stage other than stick something that tasted very much like cinnamon on the inflamed little gap in my mouth – again, I don’t question these things, I just go along for the ride. 

Although, considering the pain I was in, I’d have done anything.

So: an oozy burn that wouldn’t heal, and now a gap in my mouth that decided to follow suit. What else could my body do to torment me?

Enter, sporadic bouts of hip pain that, like everything else, was excruciating.

I always described the pain as being similar to what I imagine sciatica must feel like – sharp, shooting pains down my leg, spasming through my side like every nerve had been lit up.

Honestly, I thought it would have been hard to find anything worse than the pain in my mouth, but my hip certainly gave it a run for its money.

I remember lying sprawled out on the living room floor one evening, a foam roller under my back – me shifting every few minutes, just trying to find some relief. I twisted myself into all sorts of shapes and positions. Anything to ease the pain, if only for a second.

However, the strange thing about these sudden flare-ups was how they disappeared just as suddenly as they appeared. Not that I was complaining – one day at a time was more than enough to endure.

But after a full day of discomfort, I’d wake up the next morning and feel completely fine. Like nothing had ever happened. Like I’d made the whole thing up. And honestly, with how I was feeling…with all the tablets I was taking… Maybe I had imagined it.

Either way, there I was – late February rolling into early March (quite literally) – utterly exhausted, no energy, and completely run down.

But it made sense at the time, didn’t it?

I wasn’t sleeping because of my now-missing tooth and occasionally dodgy hip. That explained the fatigue. Which, in turn, explained why my finger hadn’t healed properly.

All I needed was a few good nights of sleep, fewer takeaways, and a few days lying around binge-watching Netflix.

If I could manage all of that, then I’d be back to my old self.

At least, that’s what I wanted to believe.