Another big day. Being sick is a full time occupation. This is the day that my Spanish friend returns to Spain and I have to look after myself. The day I take my first step. The day I clear 12 weeks of answer phone messages. The day I move my computer to my study instead of languishing on the couch.
The ambulance arrives before I've had breakfast - around 8.30. The driver kindly carries my bag and my breakfast (buttered bread) down the stairs. This time its a van with AMBULANCE written on the side. I sit in the back - no leg room at all. The driver explains that he assesses all the patients on the trip and allocates the front and back seats accordingly. I am uncomfortable within 2 minutes.
We head off to pick up the next patient. He is 89 and blind - went to Edinburgh art college 70 years ago, and attended dances that the city put on for the nurses (they needed more men...). He had been blind for 8 months and had 'got used to it'. But I reckoned he could see a wee bit - especially when we passed his 'old school'...
The next pick up was an oldish woman - very quiet with a gentle smile. We girls sat in the back - men in the front. I was dropped off first - half an hour early for my appointment. For my momentous day I had a new physio - he had started in OPD 5 only three days before. And we were 28 minutes into my 30 minute appointment before I got to walk. 28 minutes of talking and stretching and assessing - would he never get round to it? Finally we were there - moonboot back on and stand up straight - crutches at full attention.
Its called 'touch weight bearing'. Crutches go forward first, then just the toe of my gammy foot, then the good leg last. It was easy. No pain. But very emotional. Here I was starting to walk when 12 weeks ago surgeons were telling me they might have to amputate my leg. And up until now I couldn't even write the A word down - a superstitious fear that things could still go wrong... And perhaps things might - but at least I've got past the superstitious bit....
I asked about the new stair technique. Had a practice on the 'fake' stairs in the gym. And then I'm sent home. Ambulance picks me up first. The other woman hasnt seen her consultant yet. This upsets the whole timetable. Patients coming by ambulance are supposed to be prioritised. We leave without her. I go up the tenement stairs with my new technique - toe touching each stair. Easier on my right hip, harder on my right foot.
So now that I'm almost walking - I can tackle the answerphone messages. And who pops up again but Boris the French couch surfer. Two abusive messages left on 21 November - two days after my accident. Apparently Boris is now training to be a bee keeper and has given up his dreams of humanitarian work - god help the bees...
The ambulance arrives before I've had breakfast - around 8.30. The driver kindly carries my bag and my breakfast (buttered bread) down the stairs. This time its a van with AMBULANCE written on the side. I sit in the back - no leg room at all. The driver explains that he assesses all the patients on the trip and allocates the front and back seats accordingly. I am uncomfortable within 2 minutes.
We head off to pick up the next patient. He is 89 and blind - went to Edinburgh art college 70 years ago, and attended dances that the city put on for the nurses (they needed more men...). He had been blind for 8 months and had 'got used to it'. But I reckoned he could see a wee bit - especially when we passed his 'old school'...
The next pick up was an oldish woman - very quiet with a gentle smile. We girls sat in the back - men in the front. I was dropped off first - half an hour early for my appointment. For my momentous day I had a new physio - he had started in OPD 5 only three days before. And we were 28 minutes into my 30 minute appointment before I got to walk. 28 minutes of talking and stretching and assessing - would he never get round to it? Finally we were there - moonboot back on and stand up straight - crutches at full attention.
Its called 'touch weight bearing'. Crutches go forward first, then just the toe of my gammy foot, then the good leg last. It was easy. No pain. But very emotional. Here I was starting to walk when 12 weeks ago surgeons were telling me they might have to amputate my leg. And up until now I couldn't even write the A word down - a superstitious fear that things could still go wrong... And perhaps things might - but at least I've got past the superstitious bit....
I asked about the new stair technique. Had a practice on the 'fake' stairs in the gym. And then I'm sent home. Ambulance picks me up first. The other woman hasnt seen her consultant yet. This upsets the whole timetable. Patients coming by ambulance are supposed to be prioritised. We leave without her. I go up the tenement stairs with my new technique - toe touching each stair. Easier on my right hip, harder on my right foot.
So now that I'm almost walking - I can tackle the answerphone messages. And who pops up again but Boris the French couch surfer. Two abusive messages left on 21 November - two days after my accident. Apparently Boris is now training to be a bee keeper and has given up his dreams of humanitarian work - god help the bees...
1 comment:
Read all the February blogs in a oner - great stuff - cant wait for the next one!
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