Since we last spoke, I feel we've all possibly experienced many seasons, bank holidays, sunburns, soakings, milestones, a couple of fillet steaks (yes I have!) and a whole array of emotions... (yes, I definitely have).
Let's start with the absolute tornado/ monsoon/ earthquake of hormonal weather I experienced when the absolute shit head of a delivery driver failed to leave my urgent hormone package in the porch as requested. Not to be redelivered for a whole 5 days due to the bank holiday! I kid you not. He left a calling card in my letter box saying they'll be back on Tuesday, at which point I could’ve turned into a gibbering wreck, afraid of my own shadow, crying hysterically, eating my body weight in jelly babies. Or a raging dragon, punching several people in the face in the co-op.
As a matter of fact, I was somewhere in between, although I didn't assault anyone. I just cried myself to sleep a lot and let my anger burn internally. Before you ask- I tried EVERYTHING to retrieve that parcel, ringing both the sender and the courier, offering to do whatever it takes in a bid not to fuck up my hormones. I would’ve chased that van down in Pedro, paying ransom money for them to open up the doors for me, and I’d finally bring my progesterone home! But no, they wouldn't be able to re-deliver anything till Tuesday, despite having paid a whole £6.95 for Next Day Delivery.
I was genuinely scared what was going to happen to me. I still had an oestrogen patch and testosterone left, but that last progesterone pill? That had long been swallowed. These hormones all work together and taking one without the other can be dangerous. For example: taking the oestrogen without combining it with the progesterone can cause a bulky womb lining to form (NOT good ladies!) Especially seen as I already have that due to years of no periods, and an entire village of cysts live in my ovaries due to my PCOS. I'd rather not make it worse! Obviously, as you've probably gathered, I'm still here and writing this, so that's good! But I lived through hormonal hell to get here. I didn't want to stop taking everything because then the withdrawals would be ten times worse. Life was tough enough without that calming hormone, I’m not going to lie!
While I waited for Tuesday to roll round, I became so paranoid at the slightest flinch. I convinced myself I had appendicitis, which would inevitably worsen over the bank holiday weekend, causing my appendix to explode and I would die. Never making it back to Brands Hatch and never making it to my first post-femur DJ gig the day after. Again- that clearly wasn't the case and it was most likely indigestion or too much oblique work at Pilates.
Once the emotional and physical storms had passed, the weather was looking absolutely BELTING for my return to Brands! I promptly ordered a new skort (that's shorts with a skirt over the top of it for my non-tennis fashion friends) as I was savagely cut out of my last pair when rushed to hospital. I like to call getting my legs out ‘Scar Appreciation Society’ and I even have the perfect sunscreen stick to slick on and protect it, thanks to all of you who recommended products to me following my shout out on social media. It was also pretty alarming how many of you advised I put Bio OIL on it and then go in the sun. If I put oil on my scar and then went out in the sun, it would fry like bacon! Streaky bacon down my leg! Literally. So please, whoever you are, never do that! It's not sun safe. I'll stick to using bio oil at night thanks.
It felt a lot like Deja vu as I collected my hire car and drove the five hours it takes me to get to Brands. So far South I'm basically in France. I barely slept like most pre-race nights, excited to see everyone, excited for my new hair extensions, but also hugely apprehensive for coming face to face with the pit wall again. I was bound to feel a bit sick as it all came rushing back, like bumping into your school bully as a now adult and they're now just the adult version of Mean Girls, instead of the teens. Thankfully I couldn't have been more loved or supported by my wonderful WSR Team BMW fam. They're a special bunch with the patience of saints for putting up with me and everyone asking “How Sophie’s leg?!”
I kept telling myself lightning doesn't strike in the same place twice (maybe not factually correct) and I would be absolutely FINE if I simply didn't jump off any walls!
As we all made our way to the pit lane for the prompt 9:00am start and the driver autograph signing, I was met with my first sight of that catch fencing I fatefully clambered up moments before the break. There it was... the very spot where it happened, the very moment where my life changed. I was a bit gutted it didn't look like Mount Everest! Standing there felt like staring an arch nemesis in the face. I needed to pay that pit wall a visit and clear any bad energy. Especially as the way our garages were positioned, I'd be staring at it all day. I even spoke to the marshal who was stood behind me when it happened and he told me how he heard it snap, despite the noise of the racing engine's…! I threw up a little bit in my mouth but felt somewhat triumphant that I was now stood back there in one piece- and in heels, just seven months later. (Don't tell my orthopaedic Dr please!)
You know how I joked in the last blog that I'd be well annoyed if I didn't have a blue plaque with my name on it? Well, someone only went and did it! Thanks to long-time supporter Mark, I was presented with my very own ‘DJ Femur Woz ‘ere’ plaque, which was then mounted on the pit wall with cable ties. It suddenly felt like I'd won! Back in October it was definitely Pit wall- 1 Sophie- 0. It literally broke me, snapping my largest bone along with my already shattered heart, physically stopping me in my tracks after months of keeping going through grief. I also wouldn't have any idea all this crazy stuff that needs sorting was going on in my body had this not have happened.
I laid a few ghosts to rest that day after finally making peace with the wall, until it got to about 6:00pm after race 3 and it all came flooding back: The warm weather and the golden sun low in the evening sky, the cars pulling back into the garages, the high fives and hugs amongst the team... everything was the same. THIS was the setting when it happened. This was the moment. It was like a PTSD baseball bat suddenly whacked me in the head and Beyonce shimmied out of garage 3 singing her 2006 hit ‘Déjà vu’. I wanted to get the hell out of there. So I did. Thankfully my duties were done for the day, and I was about to drive off defiantly into the sunset, in one piece. Instead of stretchered off in an ambulance.
See you in October Brands Hatch! Where I’ll celebrate my one-year Femur-versary and hopefully will have regained full mobility back in my leg, so I can do all the dance moves. Speaking of which, I was then heading straight to my next ‘first since surgery milestone’, where I'd hopefully be making many people do all the dance moves... It was time for my comeback DJ gig!
In next weeks blog you'll learn how this involved a hot pink satin suit, the poshest hotel of my life, a well-known celebrity and a surprising amount of drum and bass…
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