100 days - has a catchy ring doesn't it? On my 100th day I put my right foot down on the ground, with its moon boot, and with my crutches, I 'walked'. (I am not putting much weight through it yet). I also, for the first time, started hard core weights work with my right ankle. Sitting on the machine with my feet up pushing hard with the smallest weight. Left leg and foot acts as brake. Right foot and ankle forcibly on the move. My Physio says its time to 'challenge my joints'. I was under the impression that there had already been 100 days of challenge. No so. Now its for real.
My set of exercises are now long and hard. We are trying to strengthen my knee and quads. Without the joint movement and without the strengthening there will be no walking. Even my gait has to be reconstructed. Now its a right toe point, pulling the knee hard in, easing my foot back and then the final knee bend (ever thought about how to walk??) 'No pain no gain' said the ambulance driver... Mmm
On the eve of my 100th day I took my moon boot off for the first time overnight. My strange little leg exposed to only a duvet for 8 hours. It felt very light - and indeed it is. My calf muscle, what little there is, hangs sullenly. My graft looks bigger now that my leg has regained more of a shape - particularly round the ankle. With most of the swelling gone I now understand why my graft needs cosmetic surgery. Its not a thing to flash in front of small children... Or adults for that matter.
Despite all this progress I'm not in good form. This is normal apparently - but deeply unpleasant. I am cross and permanently weepy. Despite the enormous amounts of goodwill from my pals and the NHS there are still things that conspire against my disability. At the Filmhouse this afternoon I have an argument with the manager. I am not allowed a stool to put my foot on because of health and safety regulations. And if I am given one this time, (it is eventually grudgingly offered for a one off) it may set a dangerous precedent. I am close to tears with this public humiliation. I argue. People are allowed to take their shopping bags in. If I had my wheelchair I would have the leg extension. And the extension is far more hazardous than a stool (although if Health and Safety ever work this out there'll be no more trips out for anyone using one).
I stomp off on my crutches, find the wheelchair space, sit on a seat beside it and put my leg up on the seat in front. There doesn't seem to be a regulation preventing this. Its not ideal but it does the trick. There are around 20 people in Cinema One (seats hundreds) - not one of whom would be obstructed in the event of a fire. I and the Filmhouse are finished. I have sympathy for people obeying rules - but there must be ways of providing some sort of leg support which is legal. When you don't get out much because your mobility is limited the last thing you need is zealotry preventing your entertainment. This simply creates more misery - and thus slows healing.
100 days. Strangers regularly approach me and ask me how much longer before I am walking around freely. I have no idea. I can't even get to the bus stop yet - so I guess it will be a while.
My set of exercises are now long and hard. We are trying to strengthen my knee and quads. Without the joint movement and without the strengthening there will be no walking. Even my gait has to be reconstructed. Now its a right toe point, pulling the knee hard in, easing my foot back and then the final knee bend (ever thought about how to walk??) 'No pain no gain' said the ambulance driver... Mmm
On the eve of my 100th day I took my moon boot off for the first time overnight. My strange little leg exposed to only a duvet for 8 hours. It felt very light - and indeed it is. My calf muscle, what little there is, hangs sullenly. My graft looks bigger now that my leg has regained more of a shape - particularly round the ankle. With most of the swelling gone I now understand why my graft needs cosmetic surgery. Its not a thing to flash in front of small children... Or adults for that matter.
Despite all this progress I'm not in good form. This is normal apparently - but deeply unpleasant. I am cross and permanently weepy. Despite the enormous amounts of goodwill from my pals and the NHS there are still things that conspire against my disability. At the Filmhouse this afternoon I have an argument with the manager. I am not allowed a stool to put my foot on because of health and safety regulations. And if I am given one this time, (it is eventually grudgingly offered for a one off) it may set a dangerous precedent. I am close to tears with this public humiliation. I argue. People are allowed to take their shopping bags in. If I had my wheelchair I would have the leg extension. And the extension is far more hazardous than a stool (although if Health and Safety ever work this out there'll be no more trips out for anyone using one).
I stomp off on my crutches, find the wheelchair space, sit on a seat beside it and put my leg up on the seat in front. There doesn't seem to be a regulation preventing this. Its not ideal but it does the trick. There are around 20 people in Cinema One (seats hundreds) - not one of whom would be obstructed in the event of a fire. I and the Filmhouse are finished. I have sympathy for people obeying rules - but there must be ways of providing some sort of leg support which is legal. When you don't get out much because your mobility is limited the last thing you need is zealotry preventing your entertainment. This simply creates more misery - and thus slows healing.
100 days. Strangers regularly approach me and ask me how much longer before I am walking around freely. I have no idea. I can't even get to the bus stop yet - so I guess it will be a while.
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