Out and About!

It seemed criminal to sit indoors and not take advantage of the sunshine. So we had a nice drive down to Rochester.

I went down there two weeks ago and was struck by the location (only forty minutes from home) and the fact that there was a castle, and a cathedral, both close to the river. I thought it would be ideal for a Sunday jaunt.



Well the sun may be out, but the old adage about "casting a clout" was certainly true! It was lovely and bright out, but definitely a bit on the chilly and blowy side (as you can see, I don't normally look that windswept)

Literally adjacent (if Mark had turned 180 degrees with the camera) to Rochester Cathedral is the Castle. The Cathedral is free to walk round, but they charge £5 to nose around the castle, so we gave that a miss and just wandered round the grounds instead.



The Castle is in the background. Mark looks full of the joys of Spring, bless him!

There was a fire in a pub yesterday, which has resulted in a road closure on the route into Rochester. Getting in was easy, getting out was an entirely different matter, clear road divert directions do not seem to be Medway council's strong point. We moved from the car park at 15.37, and finally got away from Rochester at 16.14. Ho hum...

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Location:Rochester Castle

The Price

"Give me another chance!" she cried,
"I'm afraid it's too late" the Grim Reaper replied
He then said "All sins and crimes must be paid in full"
"What crime? What sin?! I haven't done anything" was her retort.
At her response the Reaper looked most severe.
"Have you honestly no idea why you are here?
Think hard, look back, remember the events.
Can you not think what led to the accident?"
She looked at him blankly, and on her it dawned, it was something about which she had previously been warned.
"It wasn't my fault, it wasn't me behind the wheel. Why am I here, that's not a fair deal?!"
"Arrogance was your sin. You thought you couldn't get hurt, that you were immortal, and so you did nothing.
To be 'down with it' was more important for you, than to be an adult and take a sensible and safe view.
You knew your friend was DUI, but you didn't stop them, even though they were high.
You got in the car and said ""It's perfectly safe. It's cool, it's normal, people do it every day.""
The Reaper then said "For this, four people have to pay"
"Why four? There were three of us in the car today"
At this point the Reaper looked almost sad.
"The fourth to pay will be your Dad.
For you and your friends, your lives are your cost.
For your Dad, it's the memory of who he has loved and lost.
Your price though tragic, is quick and paid today.
Your Dad's pain will be never ending, each minute of every day"
The Reaper looked at the girl, who was stricken with tears,
The reality of it all had now sunk in, and she was frozen to the spot in fear.
She thought back to all the good times with her Dad, of which there would be no more.
She realised how much she had taken him for granted and how she had dismissed his worrying before.
"Mr Reaper, please would you grant me one request?"
And so the Reaper did at her behest.
The Reaper visited her Dad and broke the news the best he could.
Her father was distraught and greeted the news like any caring parent would.
The Reaper said "Your daughter asked me for a last request, and to my word I will be true.
She asked me to tell you how sorry she was and how much she does love you."
To this end I will do what I can to minimise your pain. Your memories of this will be dulled and it won't hurt as much again"
Her father shook his head and through his tears he did reply,
"Thank you for the offer but I must decline, though it will always hurt, I must remember why.
I must remember, so I can spread the word, and help other parents like me.
Whose children think they are immortal, and therefore the dangers they will not see.
How many more of these accidents will it take, before they will understand why?
How much more tragic can the loss be, before they will say 'no' to DUI?"
The Reaper bowed his head, and faded slowly into the dark.
The depths of which for the father had never been so stark.

Never when bringing up a son or daughter should a parent have to expect.
To face the pain of losing their child, knowing there is nothing they can do to protect.
A parent can lay down the rules and by example they can guide. The day will always come when it will be down to the son or daughter to decide.

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Home Again

A brief recap. On Saturday Mark went Ski-ing and Mum and I went to Krystalwelten.

This is the entrance to the "Giant" which takes you through to the Exhibition. We did take some photos, but we were more interested in the Members Lounge and the Shop!

The last time that we went was in 2005. We signed the guest book and sent some photos in for the ladies in the Members lounge to include with our guest book entry.

We went into the Members lounge and I see that all the previous guest books were kept on a book shelf. I looked through and eventually foundour previous entry, dated 03/03/05. Marion (lady in the Members lounge) had kept her promise, and the photos that we had sent in of Mum's collection were in the book along with our entry in book number 15.

Of course we had to write in the guest book again, it would have been rude not to!

Intermittently I had received texts from Mark updating me on how he was getting on. Apparently he had taken a couple of spills, but he was in good shape, so after having spent inordinate amounts of time (and money!) in the shop, we headed back to the hotel to catch up with Mark.

Aside from being absolutely shattered, he was in good shape, and had enjoyed his time on the slopes. The plan was he would go with us to Kitzbuhel the following day (Sunday) and do someskiing there while we looked around and went up in the cabel car.

Sunday morning Mark opted for more sleep rather than breakfast, and when it came to time to get up he decided that his fitness levels (certain aches and pains from excessive exercise the previous day!) weren't up for another day's skiing. In fairness the weather looked pretty poor from a visibility point of view which doesn't make it ideal for skiing when you can't see very far in front of you.

We went to Kitzbuhel and spent the afternoon there. It's a nice resort, and the town is right by the slopes, which would make it better than Innsbruck for skiing as you have to travel out of the town in order to get to the slopes. I wish I had pushed Mark harder to take his skigear with him, as he could have got some time in on the slopes in Kitzbuhel rather than just having the one day's worth in Innsbruck.

Sunday evening we went to the Pizzeria in Innsbruck. Strangely, the restaurant in the hotel was closed, even for snacks, which was a bit bizarre when they had guests!

And He's Off

One of the ideas for coming to Austria was for Mark to be able to do some ski-ing. Regrettably I cant at the moment, being only four months post op, it wouldn't be the wisest thing to embark on, much as I would have loved to have gone with him and done it. Maybe next time, the physio certainly thinks it is achievable.

I pre-booked his ski and boot rental, so all we had to do was go to the shop yesterday once we arrived in Innsbruck. The shop dropped the gear at our hotel yesterday afternoon and he has set off for Axemer Lizum for the day.




As you can see from the photo, Mark wasn't exactly wide awake (not good at mornings, bless him) though it was about 7.15 gmt and he hadn't had the benefit of a coffee at that point. He did look a lot brighter after two coffees and once he got out in the fresh air, though the word "fresh", could also be replaced with "f-ing cold"!

Mum and I are going to head to Wattens today and visit the Swarovski Crystal place "KrystalWelten" and catch up with Mark later.

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Location:Innsbruck

The Second Leg

24/02/11 15:30 Having successfully navigated our way back to Faro and then run the gauntlet of Germans and their suitcases at the check in for our flight to Munich (they are as bad with suitcases as they are with beach towels!) we are now having a quick drink (quick by necessity due to the dreadful organisation and slow attendants at the check in desk) before heading to our gate.

25/02/11 12.33 we survived the flight to Palma de Mallorca and then our connecting flight onto Munich where we stayed overnight at the Novotel hotel, which allegedly was "within walking distance" of the airport. Unless you are into 3 mile hikes complete with suitcases, the Novotel should have been done by Trading Standards for misrepresentation of the truth, and we got a cab. The wifi was also not free as indicated on the website, which was a tad irritating.



It was very late by the time we arrived, so we had a quick drink in the bar before heading to bed. Our rooms were comfortable (the Germans certainly know how to do bathrooms!) and we slept well enough. A shower and breakfast were followed by checking out and getting a cab to Munich station (free wifi!) in order to catch our train to Innsbruck, which is what we are sitting on at the moment, currently about to depart from Kufstein.




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Definition of Chillaxing...

....is lazing on the balcony of our room at the hotel enjoying the view



My own bit of eye candy, bless him!

It is somewhat bizarre to be laying on the balcony in my swimsuit (silly spanner didn't bring any shorts etc, didn't expect it to be this warm!) albeit short lived, as we are departing here tomorrow for Munich, which I think, it is safe to say, is going to be slightly colder than here!

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On The Move Again

It's been nearly four months since I had my knee reconstructed. So far so good. I'm mobile, got virtually full flexion in the knee, I'm walking without crutches and no limp, and the demands of the physio are increasing. My physio is pleased with my progress. I still have a way to go before I'm fully fit, but I'm getting there.

We are flying out to Portugal for a few days and then onto Munich Thursday, travelling to Innsbruck by train on Friday. Short flights are not worth spending a lot of money so by that very limitation, the quantity of leg room is vastly reduced, if not almost non existent.

If you are under 5ft and don't have any issues (like joints seizing if immobilised for periods of time) then Easyjet is fine. When you are 6ft3 like Mark or have a recently reconstructed knee (like me) then spending a couple of hours pinned in one place with little capacity for moving around doesn't provide much comfort, and definitely doesn't bode well for getting much sleep.

A commodity which was highly desirable this morning, having been woken up at 3.30am (yep, 3.30!) as we needed to be at the airport for 4.45am. The gremlin is repressed at the moment, but an afternoon snooze may be necessary in order to ensure she does not escape the tenuous confines which have been weakened by lack of sleep!


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Irrational fear of Deja Vu

My dad who was previously in relatively good health was taken ill on Wednesday 30th June last year. He collapsed out in the garden down by the silver birch tree. He never regained conscious and died in hospital 8 days later.

My mum found him in the garden. She had been out for the morning at her ladies tap class, like she does every Wednesday.

I apologise if that sounds like a very matter of fact way of describing it, but it's the only way I have of verbalising the event that brought my world crashing down without ending up in tears over my iPad.

Since then, if I can't reach my mum on the phone, I start to worry. My mum had security cameras installed on the outside of the house a month ago, for her peace of mind so if she hears anything outside she will be able to check the cameras rather than venture outside herself.

The problem is, we can also check the cameras, and if I can see the cars on the drive and I can't reach my mum on the phone, I do get very concerned. The logical professor sitting on one shoulder calmly reminds me that my mum is in good health and she just may have gone down the road on foot, or she may be having a shower, or have the hoover/hairdryer on and not be able to hear the phone.

The little demon who perches on the opposite shoulder whispers in my ear that we thought my dad was in relatively good health and she may have slipped in the shower or fallen down the stairs, or, any number of things.

The point of it is this; fear of losing a loved one isn't logical, and it can't be alleviated by logic, no matter how hard you try. The little demon whispering in my ear (whose power to worry me has been magnified tenfold by the untimely tragic loss of my dad) comes up with five scenarios of what could have gone wrong for every logical explanation the professor provides for my mum not answering the phone.

As the phone rings and rings, the ice creeps into my stomach, and every time I relive that day that everything went so very wrong, when my mum phoned me at work to tell me Dad had been taken ill. When eventually I do get hold of her (like tonight for example, when she was in the shower) I feel stupid for worrying. "You shouldn't worry about something that might never happen", people say. Thing is, bad things do happen to good people, and nobody is invulnerable. My dad certainly wasn't.

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Remembrance

Dad...so many images come to mind
whenever I speak your name;
It seems without you in my life
things will never be the same.
Some days I hear your voice
and turn to see your face;
Yet in my turning it seems
the sound has been erased.
Who will I turn to for answers
when life does not make sense?
Who will be there to hold me close
when the pieces just don't fit?
Please always know I love you so much
and no one will ever take your place;
Years may come and years may go
but your memory will never be erased.
Today, Jesus, if You are listening
in your home above;
Would you go and find my dad
and give him all my love.

Author unknown.

A New Year. The time to reflect on the past and look to the future. Much as we want to close the door on 2010 as it has been an absolutely horrific year of gargantuan proportions, by doing so it almost feels like we are shutting away the memories of the loved ones we have lost.

To some extent I wish I could shut away those memories, as they still hurt so, so much. Six months on, I still struggle to accept that I will not see my dad again. I have always been a fighter, someone who will find a way to achieve something, no matter how hard, whether or not people tell me it can't be done.

To have to accept that something is inevitable is difficult on a good day. When it's something that has such a high emotional value like the loss of a loved one, the pain just tears at your heart like shards of glass.

New Years resolutions:

To look forward and celebrate each new day.
To try and let go of the little things (this does not mean to stop analysing!)
To learn to cherish the memories of my dad and hopefully let go of some of the pain.
To make my dad proud.


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The Aftermath

Protesting peacefully is one thing. Lobbing flares, ripping up barricades, vandalising phone boxes, causing as much damage as possible and graffiti-ing monuments is something else. They have alienated normal civilised citizens who respect our historical city. Working adults will foot the bill for this "peaceful protest". I think the police should have kept them on Westminster Bridge! Maybe the freezing cold might have knocked sense into their pathetic little brains!!

Student riots

Watching the news coverage this evening is making my blood boil, but not for the reasons you might think, and I may be in the minority with my thoughts on this, but hey, it wont be the first time!

An education to the age of 16 is a right. Higher education is not. It's a choice, always has been, that hasn't changed regardless of the government in power. The arrogance of the teenagers who expect everything to be given to them is infuriating. "it should be free" Just who the hell do they think pays for it, Father Christmas? The parents (as well as other working adults who have chosen not to have children) are paying for it, either up front or by means of taxes, but someone has to pay the piper at some point.

How much money do the rioters (oh, I'm sorry, "protesters") think their needless episodes of violence, graffiti and destruction of property is going to cost? Where do they think the money to pay for it is going to come from? Guess what, probably from the money set aside for education.

Everyone in this country has the right to freedom of speech. Nowhere does it say that includes vandalism, violence and graffiti, and nor should it. Swearing and gesticulating in the background of a televised interview whilst wearing a hood and a scarf to conceal facial features is neither clever or grown up and it certainly doesn't improve the already blackened image of young adults.

I wonder how many police have been drafted in to provide cover and assistance? How many areas in London are now short on cover for their own areas to handle the normal emergency calls? Many areas outside of London are very thinly spread for emergency cover already because of cutbacks, will the price for this rioting outrage be paid by some innocent individual who genuinely needed the help of the police?

I believe It was Aaron Porter who is the head of the National Students Union who said in an interview earlier that the government should increase taxes rather than penalising students who want to attend university. Our wage packets and purses are already black and blue from the beatings of the increase in vat, fuel duty, and other taxes which have been induced, how much more tax does he think we can bear?

I do not agree with the minimum fee being set as I feel that this enables universities to profit. If they don't need to charge that much, then don't. I also don't agree with the fact that a number of Lib Dem politicians abstained from the vote. They are not elected to sit on the fence. If they didn't agree entirely with the proposal, they should have voted against it and brought forward a new proposal. Abstaining is a cop out.

On the other hand, the one thing that was made perfectly clear when Ed Milliband and Nick Clegg got into office was that there were going to be some unpleasant decisions to be made as the government is in a financial mess. They are making the unpleasant decisions, and will upset someone no matter which way they do it.

Maybe one good thing will come out of this increase in fees. Maybe the students that do go to university will appreciate it for what it is, a hard sacrifice made by their parents, or the result of hard work to save money on their own part. Having to work so hard to get the money to attend may perhaps a) deter the would layabouts who partake in fluff courses in order to delay their entrance into the real working world and b) encourage those that do attend to work a damn sight harder and make them worthwhile young adults who are actually deserving of some respect because they are prepared to work and contribute to society.

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Update

Yesterday was six weeks to the day since I had my knee done. Six weeks!

It was also the day of my post op visit to the consultant to check up on my knee.

At the beginning of this week I had abandoned the last crutch completely and was walking around without it. Albeit slower and with a limp (I have to re-teach myself how to walk properly) but still about without crutches.

After pulling my knee about and twisting it (which was like "ok that's enough now"!) and asking me some questions he confirmed that all was in order and I am to return in three months time for a follow up.

I mentioned about the scar which is still a bit uncomfortable in places. Apparently there are internal stitches as well as external and the internal ones need to dissolve. Because there isn't much tissue on top of the knee cap, everything is very close to the surface, as you can see from the photo below.

The good thing is that he has cleared me to drive. I'm really pleased about this because poor Mark has been stuck with driving me here there and everywhere, which must have been a hassle for him.

I went in the gym last night to use the exercise bike. Noticing a big difference in the freedom of movement, still got some restriction in it at the moment, but it will come with time and hard work!

Will keep taking photos of my scar, need to see how it improves as there is still a way to go yet, but come a long way when you look back at the early photos.




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Progression

Had first real session of physio today. After pulling my knee about and then dragging me into the gym to install me on the bike to get my knee moving, the physio then confiscated one of my crutches and got me walking using just one as light support.

Using one crutch is a lot easier. My knee did ache after the going over it got today, but then the physio said that was to be expected as we need to build the muscles up. I have been give a couple of exercises which I need to carry out three times a day.

It's got to be said, I could not get over how scary it was when the physio took one of the crutches away. I have been trying to put more weight on that leg recently, but making a conscious decision to do so did slow me down as I had to work at it. To then walk with just one after four weeks was really unnerving. It just goes to show how reliant on them you can become.

I have weekly sessions of physio scheduled for the next four weeks, plus my instructions to work on the knee in between. Though my knee is sore, I feel a lot better in myself. The crutches were dragging me down mentally, I felt limited by them, almost claustrophobic.

Next step, to be off crutches completely, and then to be able to drive!

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Quick note

I have been taking photos of my knee ever since the nurse came round and changed the dressing the morning after my surgery. People think I'm weird and a bit gruesome, and I can deny neither quirk of character, to a degree.

However, on evenings like this, it is helpful. I took the last dressing off of my knee earlier and was examining the scar. At a passing glance it doesn't look like it has healed much since I first had it done.

However, when I pull up the photo of it from last week (taken after the sadistic nurse removed stitches!) I can really see the changes. They are not obvious at a passing glance, but by comparing the scar and the photo side by side (the wonders of an iPhone!) the improvements are obvious.

When you can see the changes that have taken place already, it helps you to focus on going forward by showing how much has happened already. Photos make it something tangible.

Someone I know who had surgery two weeks before me (though hers was a lot more extensive) said that we will get there "day by day" My taking photos, however gruesome, is so that I can see whether or not I am getting there.


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Challenges

Today was another first, back to work for the first time since my op. Mark was on earlies, so he came out of work to pick me up.

I thought it would be relatively easy returning to work, I have a desk job "pushing paper" after all, so I didn't think it would be too difficult. In fact I have felt like a fraud for the last week and half. Because I felt quite well in myself, I thought I ought to be back in the office.

This morning was semi ok, though I did struggle because I couldn't get my knee comfortable, and consequently it started to ache, badly. I don't think I was overdoing it, one of my staff went to great lengths to ensure I was well supplied with tea, bless her. Not elevating my leg did start to take it's toll and by the time Mark was ready to finish work, I had had enough, so I came home with him.

Apart from feeling like a wimp because i couldn't manage a full day at work, the issue I have had this week is that my calf muscle feels sore, like I have strained it. It's quite scary because it is making it difficult to rest my foot flat on the ground, and it has felt really sore this afternoon to a point it had me in tears. I want to be off crutches in six weeks, and I'm scared this is going to set me back. How can I get off crutches when I can't put my foot flat on the ground in order to start weight bearing?

I have had my leg up on the settee all afternoon and this evening I have had a hot water bottle on my calf. I know that warmth doesn't ease the problem and that if it's a strain then I need to ice it to alleviate it, but it felt so painful earlier, I just wanted it to stop.

I guess this weekend is going to be a case of resting it as much as possible.

When I changed the dressing yesterday I took another photo.



It seems to be healing ok. Something I was a bit surprised at when I got home from hospital was the patches of bruising that I had on my leg, and more specifically round my inner ankle.




This photo of the bruising was taken yesterday, two weeks after the surgery, and the discolouration looks like it is in the final stages. I couldn't work out why on earth I would have bruising round my ankle when my knee was the source of the surgery. Then when I thought about it, I realised it's like the ripple effect, where you throw a stone in a pond and the ripples travel outwards. The surgeon drilled the femur and the tibia in order to insert the graft and I guess the impact from the drilling into my tibia must have dispersed along my tibia to my ankle, showing as bruising.




I had this mental image of the surgeon with the heel of my foot resting against his shoulder, drilling into my knee with a Black & Decker drill!

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Sadism

Two weeks today since I had my knee reconstructed. It was scary how the time leading up to the op flew by, and the last two weeks has moved at a fairly reasonable pace as well.

I am signed on back for work on Friday (tad nervous about it, to be honest) and my next physio appointment isn't until the 23rd.

To mark the two week anniversary of the surgeon threading a new tendon into my knee joint, I celebrated in rather a unique way - by having the stitches out.

I think the word "celebrate" and the term "removal of stitches" are not compatible in any shape or form! Unless you are into sadomasochism, which, by the way, I'm not. No way, no how.

Everyone has different experiences of stitches. Some say they just tickled when they were removed, others purse their lips in that, mechanic under the bonnet of your old banger of a car "this is going to cost you", kind of way. Others offer to do it for you!

The NHS has a lot to answer for. They could, kindly providing delicate tools for the job of removing stitches of which Sweeney Todd would be proud, which wouldn't break the budget. Instead, blunt, heavy, clumsy tweezers and the stainless steel equivalent of Grandma's old crochet hook are standard issue and self evident that the NHS is scrimping in whichever way is possible.

If I could have taken the stitches out myself, I would have done, as the tolerance level for self-inflicted pain is higher than that inflicted by someone else. Indeed, I did quickly make the request (which was denied) after the nurse began to prod my knee with the crochet hook like you would poke a piece of half cooked beef, in an effort to locate the end of the first stitch.

She advised that the skin had started to heal over and around the stitches, which did lead me to wonder why on earth they had decided to wait the full two weeks in order to remove them.

My charitable side thought it might be because everyone's healing process is different. The not so charitable side of me being subjected to the exquisite sensation of having the stitches taken out, was inclined to believe that it's because they want to keep the number of outpatient appointments to an absolute minimum to cut on costs, even if it means torturing patients in any number of ways to achieve this.

Despite being of a sadistic nature, and obviously unaccustomed to using the garden shed tools, the nurse thankfully didn't prolong the wondrous process, so after a number of deep breaths and holding on to the couch with hands so tight my knuckles turned white (by me!) she succeeded in removing the stitches.

Having those removed hurt more than the anaesthetist installing the canula in my hand prior to surgery. And for someone who hates those gadgets with a passion, that is definitely saying something.

Continuing with my tradition of adding gross pictures, below is the last picture of my undressed knee before the stitches were removed. I will add another photo tomorrow when I change the dressing!




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Healing

Day Thirteen. I've not made as much noticeable progress over the last five or six days, but then I'm not sure I am supposed to. We went down to Somerset on Thursday afternoon as Mark had business to attend to in Salisbury on Friday.

Before we went I had my first physio appointment. The physio was reluctant to pull my knee about too much because I have got stitches and they are not due to be taken out until this Wednesday. He asked how long I was signed off for, and didn't query my returning to work this Friday.

On the Friday before last I visited the clinic as the hospital had specified the dressing should be changed either then or on the next (last) Monday. The clinic couldn't understand the need for the change, but they did it anyway. They also said I wasn't to change the dressing again myself as it should be ok until the stitches were to be taken out.

Well, I have put tape on the top bit of the dressing as the adhesive had started to go home, and I have replaced the dressing myself this evening. I couldn't wait until Wednesday and I thought leaving it exposed (dressing not sealed properly) was just as dangerous if not more so than changing it myself.

I made sure my hands were clean and I didn't touch the skin when I replaced the dressing. I couldn't resist it, I did take a photo of the scar, and I was pleased to see it appears to be healing relatively well.



It's not going to be the prettiest knee, but then it never was, so no loss there! Not looking forward to having the stitches out though :-(

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Day 5

It is Sunday, Day 5. I am getting more movement in the knee, but I still need to sit with it elevated in order for it to feel comfortable.

I expected (and dreaded) the prospect of feeling incredibly frustrated (stems from being a stubborn independent cow) along with feeling extremely helpless/stupid/clumsy (pick one, all are appropriate) so those emotions have not come as a surprise to me.

What I had not anticipated was being able to appreciate how we/I take the everyday things for granted, and how much effort must be involved to carry out the simple tasks for disabled people.

Give you a really basic example. Being on crutches means I can't move a cup of liquid from one room to the next. I can make myself a drink, but then I can't transfer it to the living room. I could probably make myself a sandwich, but taking it on a plate and sitting down with it is a different matter.

This morning, I had a shower without Mark actually helping me into the shower and helping me wash. He was in the bathroom on standby, just in case in I did need help, and I could see that there were some things it would have just been easier to let him do, but I had to try for myself.

The sheer effort involved to do it was unbelievable. Things have to be done in a certain way, like hanging the towels somewhere I can reach them from the shower cubicle. Getting my crutches balanced against the shower cubicle so I could reach them when I got out. Having to sit on a chair in the shower as that was safer. The achievement of a shower and then drying my hair was satisfying, if a little tiring!

I'm not saying that there aren't facilities available to help disabled people cope with everyday tasks. But even with those, aside from the energy and effort that require expending, it's the struggle for independence, not having to rely on others.

I have only been on crutches four days (got a little while yet!) and luckily for me, it shouldn't be a long term prospect. What about those who are faced with disability long term or permanently?

When they discharged me on Thursday, and I walked over to x-ray to get my knee checked, all the people milling about, it's like you are invisible. I found myself walking as close to the wall as possible so as not to hold people up or get in the way because I couldn't keep up with the rush.

I know that is a psychological issue, but it's also about how other people treat you as well. If people talk about you as though you aren't there, or don't acknowledge your presence in certain situations, how long does it take before you start to feel in yourself that you don't exist?

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Day 4 - Not for the squeamish as graphic pics attached

I have been working on getting flexibility back, I'm limited at the moment, which I think is to be expected. Had the dressings changed yesterday, the nurse couldn't understand why the hospital had insisted on it being done so soon. Better that than leave it for a week, to be honest.

The biggest thing is needing others to help me. I can dress myself and put shoes and socks on, but showering on my own is not something I have attempted yet, so Mark has been helping me. Though I can get round on them, I do feel awkward on the crutches. I'm not the most graceful of people to begin with, and adding crutches to the mix multiplies the "Nelly the Elephant" look by 1000!

When they were redoing the dressings on Thursday morning I took some photos, which are below, look away now if you are the slightest bit squeamish. The redness of my skin was down to a antiseptic they used while I was under anaesthetic. I can't get the dressing wet so I have been using a special waterproof plaster cast cover, as there was no way in hell I was going without a shower.


I must admit, before the nurse took off the bandages, I didn't know what to expect. Bear in mind when they took me back up to the ward I was bandaged from mid thigh to my toes. It was aching round my knee, so I knew that was where they had done all the work. I wasn't expecting to see the second dressing on the right hand side of my thigh, as there was no pain from that at all.



Hopefully this will only leave a thin scar, but as I don't exactly have model legs it's no deal breaker! I have to have the stitches out in the tenth of November, so I will take some more photos then.

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Home Sweet Home

The physio got me up and going on crutches (I was SO slow!) and then the nurse came and changed my dressing. I got dressed (which was a challenge) and once Mark came in to collect me, we went to X-Ray and then to my mum's.

Because I have got very limited flexion in my knee at the moment, getting in and out of the car was very painful, and I felt every bump and pothole on the way home! It was a relief to get indoors, lay down on the bed and put my leg on a pillow.

Mark rustled up some soup and toast (which was very nice) and having had the multitude of tablets (two paracetamol, one other painkiller and an anti-inflammatory) I'm resting on the bed at the moment. I will get up in a while and walk around, but it's trying to get the balance between not overdoing it and over resting.



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