My mum came to visit me a few days after the accident, and brought me … a walking stick. I know it sounds comical in the re-telling but, really, at the time I felt like crying. Knowing you’re immobile is one thing, but having a physical reminder of it in your house is much, much worse. I seemed to have morphed into my cantankerous old grandmother overnight, glued to the sofa and demanding for things to be brought to me, with Nicky as my tireless, selfless, dutiful carer.
For a few days I was completely unable to walk at all, so my days consisted of lying on the sofa, ordering pay-per-view films from Sky Box Office and discovering that they are rubbish, crawling to the toilet, crawling to the freezer to fetch the frozen peas (because hopping seems to send shock waves up my good leg and down my bad one, making it hurt even more), and … well, not much else, really. After that I did manage to hobble a bit, but only as far as the kitchen, bathroom and garden. At least being outside took my mind off things. I discovered an amazing new plant which definitely wasn’t there last year - it’s about waist height, with yellow, primrose-like flowers that remain closed all day and pop open at night. And I really do mean pop - they don’t unfurl gradually. If you are in the right place at the right time, you can actually witness the popping as it takes place, petal by petal - truly fascinating! I rushed to get my camera, totally forgetting about my ankle, and, would you believe, I managed to twist it again and cause pain to a part which didn’t hurt before.
The worst side effect of my injury was all the inevitable weight gain after going from being reasonably active to doing absolutely nothing. I can barely walk a few feet, let alone do an hour’s kick-boxing class. My mum helpfully suggested going swimming, but then there’s the problem of how to get to the pool in the first place -sadly there is no door-to-door shuttle bus. Plus, hobbling from the changing room to the pool on a slippery, wet floor, whilst wearing flip-flops (possibly the most support-free and potentially dangerous footwear for an ankle injury, more so than the hazardous heels which caused the original injury) simply doesn’t bear thinking about.
So I guess I have no option but to try to see the positives in this situation. There are all sorts of things I can do which don’t involve my feet – such as watching Jerry Springer, drinking Jack Daniel’s straight from the bottle and buying pointless things on eBay, for instance – so I shall just do them and hope Lammas sees me in a slightly better physical state! |
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