It is now nearly 12 weeks since I fell down that hole and a
little over 70 days from the operation to re-attach my right leg quad tendon.
Progress has been slow but sure.
As I have mentioned before the first few weeks
were of complete bed rest but gradually I have been able to move about with the
help of a dreaded walking frame and on crutches.
A breakthrough came just two
weeks ago when the Physiotherapist gave me the go ahead to put some weight down
on my weakened, wizened limb. This meant that I could stand properly for the first time
since the event and therefore do such mundane things as shave, wash up and get
back into the kitchen to take up my share of the chores.
The beard went as
quick as you can say “the world’s finest blade”.
It was a challenge to grow one
to fruition but as I tend to mistrust anyone with facial hair (Jesus excepted),
especially in business its days were always numbered. I have some photos to
prove it and the surprise benefit of very nice, soft and healthy skin after a
few weeks out of direct contact with the environment.
The dial on the side of
my leg brace has been adjusted over three phases and just this morning to a
tremendous ninety degrees.
I admit that I have not worked through with my
exercises with as much conviction as I should in recent weeks but the Physio
measured my current flex and movement at fifty degrees which I feel is not too
bad.
I have renewed confidence in my mobility and so have ventured out to the
local Tesco Express on my own although on the first occasion my son was
hovering around on the route on his bike to make sure that I was able to master
some very rough pavements, cambered ramps to domestic driveways and pedestrian
crossing points as well as the usual array of street furniture and littering.
My adopted walkway through which is the shortest way to the shops has suffered
from my enforced immobility in terms of accumulated leaf debris, discarded
bottles and cans and I hope to be sufficiently recovered in say 4 weeks to
tackle its untidiness with my snow shovel and bin bag.
The step counting app on
my phone bears testament to my improved movement with two feet in that my daily
record has increased from an average of about 300 by a factor of 10 and I have
no hesitation in taking on some ambitious journeys.
I even walked part of the
distance back from the Physio Department at the City Hospital this morning
before calling for vehicle back up.
My new exercises are intended to get me to
that elusive ninety degrees. There is not so much the pain element as the fear
of causing damage and risking prolonging my recuperation.
I do feel that I am down to
only a few weeks more before I am able to drive and thereby get back to work
but more importantly by way of self motivation, to actually sit on the new road
bike that arrived in all its pristine splendour on the day before that hole
loomed up and lured me in.
I have to restrain my ambition in activity terms as
was clearly illustrated yesterday when I volunteered to dismantle a large
collapsible garden shelter after its use at a friends 100th birthday
bash.
It had taken three persons to put the gazebo up earlier in morning but it had looked easy and so I took on the after-party work.
My impeded speed, for
the first time without crutches, resulted in my being overwhelmed by the structure
as it subsided on its four stanchions. I felt like I was in a Lewis Carroll plot
line having just taken a magic cake.
Of course I realise now that I was foolish
in the extreme in trying to do a multi-person task on my own but the surge in adrenalin from
the combination of fear and stupidity did, I admit, make me feel more alive
than I have felt for the duration of my convalescence.
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