Contribution
It is a real pleasure to lead this evening’s debate during Bone and Joint Week, raising awareness of an issue that affects millions of people, but receives nowhere near the attention it deserves. I start by thanking Arthritis UK and the Arthritis and Musculoskeletal Alliance, known as ARMA, for their work raising awareness of these conditions, for the information they have provided ahead of this debate and for the parliamentary event they put on today.
Musculoskeletal conditions or MSK conditions affect our bones and joints and the muscles and tissues that hold them together. They include arthritis, osteoporosis, chronic back pain and joint injuries. For some, these conditions are manageable. For others, they are utterly debilitating, leaving people struggling to walk, to work or to carry out basic everyday tasks.
More than 20 million people in the UK live with an MSK condition. Some 10 million have arthritis, including an estimated 15,000 people in my constituency. Such conditions are the single biggest cause of pain and disability in this country, accounting for around one in seven GP consultations, yet I fear that we underestimate their seriousness, perhaps because they are rarely immediately life-threatening. While they may not kill people, however, they can slowly rob them of their mobility, independence, ability to work and quality of life.
I want to explain why this issue matters to me personally. Six years ago this month, my life changed significantly, although I did not know it at the time. It is something that I have avoided talking about publicly, and if I am honest, I have struggled to accept it. However, I believe we should draw on personal experience in this place, particularly when it might help improve our country.
In October 2020, I was an extremely fit and physically robust former regular Royal Marine with multiple operational tours behind me. I was also competing at the highest level of wingsuit skydiving as a member of the Team GB squad. I can see Members thinking that those activities and MSK injuries are natural bedfellows, and they are probably right, but nothing prepared me for the debilitating consequences of what happened that October.
On a grey and windy day in Devon, I decided to go parachuting, which was a near weekly occurrence. As a reservist member of the Royal Navy parachute display team, I needed to keep current for the following season. I had completed around 700 jumps, and I was not frightened—this was like any other day—but I had something far more dangerous: complacency. The winds were strong and the parachute centre had restricted jumping to experienced parachutists only. I was practising precision landings and convinced myself that it would be good training. I also chose to wear trainers, rather than my usual military boots that provided ankle support. The plane took off and we climbed to 15,000 feet. The green light came on and I jumped.
Everything went to plan until the landing. Rather than landing in the middle of a muddy field away from obstacles, I decided to land closer to where I would be picked up. It was a lazy decision, and it was a stupid one. As I approached the ground, gusting winds caught my parachute, lifted me and slammed me into the side of an aircraft hangar. My left foot took the initial impact, before the rest of my body smashed into the building. My parachute went over the roof, leaving me dangling from the hangar. Fortunately, I remained conscious, managed to release my harness and fell the remaining 5 feet or so to the ground. I remember lying there in shock, checking everything was still attached. Then came the searing pain in my left ankle. My wife came and picked me up and drove me straight to accident and emergency. After examinations and scans, I was told that I had suffered a severe sprain. I was advised to get the ankle moving and seek physiotherapy, because timely NHS support was unlikely to be available. Having had little experience of the NHS, I trusted that advice.
Over the following months I worked hard at rehabilitation. Gradually, I regained strength, but I remained in considerable pain. I took the classic Royal Marine approach: crack on and hope it gets better. Having served alongside men who lost limbs in Afghanistan, I considered myself lucky, and I certainly was not going to complain about a sore ankle, but six months later, something was clearly wrong.
My physiotherapist recommended an MRI scan, which I paid for privately—again, I was advised that the NHS process would take too long—and, when the results came back, I had to catch my breath: my ankle had been broken the entire time. The fracture had been missed at A&E and I had spent six months rehabilitating an injury that had never been properly diagnosed.
I was advised to see a private consultant—again, because of the time it would take to access specialist help through the NHS. This is where I was incredibly fortunate. By complete chance, the consultant whom I went to see happened to be ex-forces himself. Having discussed my injury and background, he suggested that I see him through his NHS practice, where he could continue to oversee my treatment, and I am enormously grateful to him for doing so. After months of uncertainty, pain and frustration, I finally felt that someone understood the problem and could help me to work out what came next. I want to make an important point here: my experience has left me deeply frustrated with parts of the NHS and particularly with the difficulties in accessing timely diagnosis and treatment, but it has also shown me that there are some outstanding people working within it who go above and beyond for their patients.