For the first few weeks, forget it – unless you can see a physiotherapist.  Touching my toes was the height of my first week, and walking up the stairs was the height of the second week (once a day is enough – twice if you are really energetic.)  The way it went for me was – wake up, take pain killers, have a little rest (20 minutes for them to kick in), walk down stairs (have a little rest – watch “Friends”), make a cup of tea, (have a little rest)…  There really is no time or energy for any exercise, because your basic daily activities, if you can manage even them, will be enough.

When you finally can contemplate perhaps a little walk – make it short.  The day before I went back to my own house I couldn’t get out of bed all day, because the day before that I decided to walk round the park – a 20 minute walk – way too much.  You have to find your limit and take it easy.

I like walking, but what I wish I had started sooner was swimming.  The first time I went for a swim was heaven – the water supported all my weakened muscles, it was more comfortable than being out of the water, and I felt free, light and graceful – I never wanted to get out.

My biggest mistakes were trying to do too much, too soon.  I ran on the treadmill and hurt my back.   Did abdominal crunches and had agonising muscle spasms for days afterwards, but worst of all I got into some really bad habits – I stopped pulling in my pelvic floor muscles because it hurt too much, and so I left my back open to injury whenever I did any exercise or lifted anything.  I didn’t rebuild my back muscles properly – so ended up with an almost slipped disc on my left side four years after the op.  I didn’t realise that the back muscles on the right hand side support the left and vice versa, so I ended up weakening both sides of my back. 

Worse still, I stopped breathing in fully, because initially my right lung and ribs were bruised.  I got into a really bad habit, and, as a result, ended up with chest infections because I wasn’t clearing any crap from my lung – please breathe deep!  Now I work out to make sure I am using my full lung capacity and I also practise deep breathing to strengthen my right lung and ribs.

I eventually saw a great physiotherapist about four years after the operation who gave me a series of exercises to rebuild my pelvic floor and back muscles and taught me to pull my pelvic floor in whenever I exercise (or lift!) so I am now fitter than ever.

Remember when you do exercise that it is better to take one step forward than two steps forward and three back, and make sure you enjoy whatever you do.

I’ve tried a lot of new things since the operation that I’ve loved, and picked up a few old favourites – horse riding (great for your back, hard on the inner thighs and according to my friend the best exercise for your bum ever?), surfing (very hard on the arms but life affirming – I actually wrote a book about it “Love And The Perfect Wave”), zip-wiring, abseiling, salsa, bikram yoga (hot and fabulous – drink lots of water), tai chi and tantric sex.  Now when I do anything new I don’t even think about the operation – sometimes I get weird pains like when I did Reiki for the first time – but I also think that these have a lot to do with using unused muscles, so I think they are good and all add up to finally healing all of the damage that was caused by the operation.

It’s really annoying at first when you have to take it easy, when reaching across the table for a cup of tea can pull muscles that are already tender and sore.  It’s annoying when you have to sit down when you are out and about, or ask for a cushion to support your back.  It’s annoying when you have to remember the golden rule of a third, a third, a third – sitting, standing and lying down one third of the time each to avoid putting pressure on your back. 

It’s upsetting when you can’t wear high heels because they aggravate your back, or you need to sit down in a bar.  It’s a pain when you are so desperate for a tube seat that you want to burst into tears, when you can’t sleep because you have overdone it at the gym, and for me the worst part was being terrified of leaving the house because I was afraid someone might bump my side.

One thing that really upset me after the operation was that I found when I was dancing my hips wouldn’t do what they were told.  One would drag and I would lose the beat, and it really made me frustrated because I’ve always loved to dance.  So I took up belly dancing – which is quite simply the best exercise for your middle that you can do, and, as all belly dancing requires that you hold your pelvic floor muscles in tightly, it’s very hard to hurt yourself even when you’re doing an extreme move.  I loved belly dancing – so much so that I eventually made a film about it (“Everything To Dance For”.)  And the best thing is that one night I was salsa dancing with a friend and I suddenly remembered why I'd started belly dancing in the first place – I forget now that I ever had a problem dancing.

This year, almost exactly eight years after the operation, I started a dance class at my gym called Zumba because I had been getting very unfit; working too hard, comfort eating and generally being lazy.

At first I could barely keep up with the moves, let alone really do them, and I was a bit shocked at how low my fitness level was.  So my one Zumba class a week, where I stood at the front and did my best, (and was usually purple and sweaty after 3 minutes!) became a good indicator of how I was doing; then they introduced another class, so I did two a week… and another and another… until I was up to six classes of full on dancing each week.  Well, now it's November and, not only am I in possibly the best shape of my life, but I've also signed up to become a Zumba Instructor!

Even now though, sometimes I have to take a few steps back; a few months ago I went go karting, got in a smash, and ended up sitting at home with my leg in the air (luckily not broken, just bruised) and had to take time off!

And even Zumba has occasionally taken its toll.  A few months ago I aggravated my back in a class.  (I confess it wasn't just the class that was full on – it was also having hardly any sleep the night before due to work stress and doing it anyway.)

Luckily I was able to use my company health scheme and get some very expensive physiotherapy for free. (Of course, since doing all the physiotherapy on my core muscles, I've now seen a chiropractor who tells me my biggest problem – like most people - is sitting badly and working on a laptop!  And yet I still do it!)

Anyway the physiotherapy centre was a little bit daunting as it's the kind of place used by top level sports clubs, as well as, (take a deep breath here) The Spice Girls!  It's very modern, with a little gym in the middle, but I felt at home very quickly as their advertising really emphasises that physiotherapy is for everyone, even if you just want to be able to sit at your desk for a whole day without being in pain (my problem) or just pick up your kids. 

It's a beautiful, light, funky place, with free bottles of water, lovely receptionists… and it killed me every time.  My new physiotherapist worked on a combination of really painful sports massage, exercises to do at home and putting me through my paces in the gym to work those atrophied abdominal muscles.  Just when I thought I'd cracked it, he cranked it up a notch and I was left collapsed on the floor, ready to cry or hurl.  One day as I was desperately trying to make my way across the floor in the plank position and collapsing every few seconds I had a moment when I realised that this is what it's like for people in real physiotherapy or physical rehab, people who are struggling to learn to walk again.  It's so easy to watch in movies or on the TV, and think that if someone is not being successful that they're just not trying hard enough.

It took me back to walking down the hospital corridor just after the operation and how painful everything was at first; my poor abdominal muscles alternately healing and then being brutally punished as I struggled to sit up unaided, walk to the bathroom, take a shower or walk up a flight of stairs.  I remember taking my first walk around the park, and then having to stay in bed the whole of the next day.

And as much as I hated the physiotherapist that got me out of bed and made me walk down the corridor, looking back I wish she had been there every day, helping me to learn how to use everything properly again back then, instead of still resolving issues eight years later.

After the operation I lived in my stretchy trousers for quite a while just walking to the shop felt like a major workout.  When I finally got home and back to the gym the treadmill was for walking at 2 miles an hour (so I didn't have to walk back when I reached my limit.)  When I started doing sit ups again I can't tell you the excruciating pain I felt hours later when my muscles went into spasm, but hey… I made it.

I stand at the front of the Zumba class and I go for it.  I am red and I am sweaty but I do all the moves the instructors do.  Sometimes I think I even do a couple better and faster than them (and then of course the next routine floors me.)  I sometimes wonder why I do it, is it for the ripped arm muscles I can see under the padding on my arms, is it for abs like my Zumba teacher Hannah?  (I thought I saw the beginnings of a six pack the other day – me?  But I think it may have just been a trick of the light.)  Is it so I can fit into my clothes whilst still eating large quantities of cheesecake and chocolate brownies?  And when the sweat is dripping in my eyes and I am considering for the first time in my life if a sweatband is actually something I need, and I am gasping for breath, I know why I do it.  I do it because I can.  I do it because working my body so hard in the gym means that I can do anything I want outside the gym, whether it's popping up on a surf board, or jumping into a go-kart (however ill advised that may be), or climbing mountains in China, I do it because I like to feel that limit again, the edge of the envelope, the place I used to get to just by standing up to make a cup of tea, because it reminds me of how lucky I am.  That even though my physiotherapist makes me collapse on the floor, I am getting there, in some ways am already there.

I'd be lying if I said that my main motivation for starting Zumba wasn't to lose weight, that the idea of a six pack doesn't thrill me, but those few months of doing physiotherapy have reminded me, along with the silly bruising on my leg, how much I'd hate to give it up, because the truth about Zumba is that it makes me realise how lucky I am.

Lucky that, whatever injuries I may have had, I can work through them to a level of fitness where I feel physically free.  And that, at the end of the day, is what it's all about, making the most of what I've been blessed with, the capacity for fitness that so many people will never have, no matter how hard they work, and so I will keep on, working hard, honouring myself and honouring the people who are not so lucky, because I can.