.. how my rehab is going after our accident. So, since huge 'strides' have been made in the last few weeks, maybe an update bulletin is in order.
When that highly imposing, and not unattractive, consultant orthopaedic surgeon stood by my hospital bed last October and told me that the standard treatment for a fragmented calcaneus was at least 3 months non weight bearing on that leg with up to 2 years of recovery time after that, the information went zinging right over my head and out of the ward window. But here I am six months further on and I am beginning to get the picture.
In spite of being shattered into lots of pieces, luckily and cleverly the bone had healed sufficiently by early February for my consultant at the local fracture clinic to sign me off into the care of the physiotherapists to get me walking again. Exciting news indeed. So exciting that I got over exuberant at my first physio session, put far too much weight on my foot too soon and embarassingly screamed the roof down. Not a good start, and it put me back a couple of weeks.
But salvation began in March in the form of hydrotherapy. I started parallel courses in the pool at Bognor Hospital and with the lovely team here in Fontwell. When I first started I couldn't negotiate the steps at either pool. At Bognor I had to 'go over the wall' - which meant hobbling to the steps on my crutches, struggling up the bottom two with the help of a physio, sitting on the wall and swinging my legs over and then, clinging desperately on to the side rails, clamber my way down into the water. At Fontwell I had the safer and simpler, but somewhat undignified, privilege of being hoisted in - and out again. But once in that bath temperature water it is quite amazing how much more one can do than on dry land. With the water supporting three quarters of my weight, after a couple of sessions I was able to walk across the width of the pool without holding on. And after six sessions I had graduated to climbing the steps - no more hoist or 'over the wall' - ta ra!!
Soon with the fabulously simple and memorable advice from the ever patient Jon, from the Fontwell Hydrotherapy clinic above, that 'the good go to heaven and the bad go to hell', I was tentatively negotiating the stairs at home vertically rather than hauling myself up and down on my bottom.
By 6th April I was able to consign both the little stools that I used to transfer from vertical to sitting and the trusty zimmer frame to their retirement in the conservatory - for onward transmission to long term storage in the cellar - for insurance purposes. If we hang on to them, maybe we will never need them again!
A couple more weeks and I was hobbling around indoors with one crutch and striding more confidently outdoors with two. And apart from my slightly wacky footgear was able to enjoy a truly lovely family wedding.
This last weekend I was able, albeit terribly slowly and gingerly, to cut the little patch of grass in our tiny town garden and I made it up the stone steps of our local RBS branch to get cash from the machine. And last night I drove my car for the first time since the accident. So although there are many more months to go before I have a matching pair :