Feelin' gooooood!!

Today I am feeling great!  I can do anything!

Me doing the 'knee lift' exercise. This is as high at it goes.

This morning Mr H. took me to see the physio, thankfully the appointment was in our home town so we didn't have the 20 mile drive to Southampton.  I had been referred by the consultant to make sure I knew how to do toe-touch weight bearing properly; as it is I had done some in hospital so knew how to do it. But I also wanted to check that the exercises I was given by the hospital physio were still relevant, and get a review of my progress compared with what they would expect.

As soon as I hopped (!) up on to the examination bed he said "Wow, most people wouldn't be able to lift the leg onto the bed without helping it!"; I then showed him that I can lift the whole leg off the bed by at least a foot (something I hadn't actually tried before), and bend my knee to 90 degrees.  

He says my progress is definitely better than would be normal, so that has put a spring in my step for sure! :-)

Mind games

In an earlier blog (Trains of thought) I talked a bit about how I felt out on the road, as a passenger at the moment obviously, after the crash.  Each time I go out, I feel less worried; although I have yet to tackle any journey further than 20 miles.

I also find that scenes in films or TV programmes that involve car crashes increase my heart-rate, I can feel it happening; I get a strange feeling of panic.  It is short-lived but very palpable.  

And yet I can look at the photographs of our crash scene and of the Transporter after the event (Mr H. took several pictures) with only a slight twinge of emotion.   Others looking at them find them quite disturbing.

The psyche is a complex thing.

The basic of all basics

This morning I am thinking about knickers and wondering why so many of them have sharp edges.

Apart from the fact that knickers with narrow elastic at the top and legs never look particularly flattering on those of us over a size 8 (UK) - that is, the majority of the population - they are also not as comfortable as those with wide lace trim.   And when you throw a healing surgery scar into the equation it just exacerbates the issue - they dig in, irritate it and are generally uncomfortable.

"Ah, a G-string is the answer!" you might say (or maybe not, knowing who might be reading this...) but I severed my extremely brief relationship with G-strings more years ago than I can remember, for two reasons: 1. they are excruciatingly uncomfortable and 2. they look ridiculous with low-rise jeans on anyone over 18 (and even on 18 years olds it is questionable).

"Commando...?" yes on the odd occasion, but not for every day.

So, for the moment, there is no more buying a 5-pack of bikini style knickers, and I'm not going to fork out for individual pairs at £5 + each (yes I'm tight).    I will just make do with what I have until I can get back to Debenhams and avail myself of their 'any 5 pairs for £10' happy deal.

I know my memory's bad, but...

This evening Mr H. and I were lying on my bed watching a film and I thought "my leg is really comfortable, it doesn't feel like there's anything wrong with it"; and then I actually worried that I would forget it is broken and try and jump out of bed to get something or answer the phone... until I realised that as soon as I moved I would remember!

Touching my toes

This week I have progressed from 'hopping around with one foot 4" off the ground' to 'toe-touch weight bearing'.   This means that when I'm using the crutches I can rest the toes of my right foot on the floor, without putting any weight on it (yes I know, its name suggests you do).

You would think that this wouldn't make much difference, still effectively hopping right, since there is no weight bearing involved?   Wrong!   Just being able to rest my foot on the ground means that I am no longer lifting my hip to keep the foot clear; as my knee isn't very flexible I now realise I've been using my hip rather than bending my knee.  So, I am immediately feeling more balanced and because I am 'walking' with that foot it feels more normal.   Suddenly I feel as though I am making great leaps and bounds of progress just from this small change!

Suddenly I feel that I could walk round to the shop; cook myself dinner; colour my hair; hoover the kitchen floor, walk the dog... well ok not that!   but I feel a little bit less helpless, which has got to be a good thing.

And before you tell me to 'be careful and don't overdo it', no need. Just because I feel like I could do all these things doesn't mean that I will ;-)

In the blood, to a limit

I come from a family of artists, and have inherited what I would call a sideline talent.   Most of the time I do not have the inspiration, imagination or self-confidence to do any art, but have the odd phase of enthusiasm. at which point people invariably say "Oh, I didn't know you drew / painted?!"  

While I was in hospital I was given a sketch book and some pencils so thought you'd like to see what I produced!  

This is the view I was very familiar with by the end of my 2 week stay in hospital!  I initially drew it to illustrate the different shapes of my knees... note the anti-embollism ('flight') socks, very sexy!

This is our little bear 'Hedgy' chilling out by the bottles of eldeflower cordial and apple & blackberry squash.  Hedgy is so named because he was rescued from a car park at Hedge End; presumably he had been dropped by a small child, I hope they would be pleased that he now has a kind, warm home.

This one I did after I was home and is the two wooden ducks on top of the bookcase. The larger one stands around 15" high; the smaller one was part of a prize I won for 1st place in the Novice's Race at my sailing club.

I keep looking at my sketching/painting box and thinking I really must get it out; if and when I do I shall post more pictures here!

Going against the grain

I know that this post is going to bring howls of protest (well it would if my friends read it!) but blogs exist to unburden ourselves and be honest, don't they.

Mr H. moves to Scotland to start work on the 30th August; he's agreed this now with his new boss so we have a fixed date whereas for the last few weeks it's been a 'moveable feast'.   Once he has gone, I am going to need my friends and parents to help me out with domestic stuff such as walking the dog, washing the sheets (and changing the bed), putting the bins out, shopping, picking vegetables, helping with cooking meals, giving me lifts, etc.

Now, me being a very independent person who hates to ask others for help, I am really going to struggle with this!  However many times people say they are happy to help, in my mind I will be imposing on them.  Also, I think that so many people make empty offers throughout ones life, that you never really take them seriously... I suppose a situation like this sorts out the real friends from the fake ones. 

Anyway the upshot is that I am going to have to re-educate myself to ask for help; and more importantly, ACCEPT IT!  If I don't I will have the wrath of Mr H. to deal with when he finds out that I have been struggling to do things that I shouldn't.

You never stop learning in this life, or having to adapt to new situations; and actually I will be doing my friends a favour, because helping me out will ultimately make them feel GOOD (because I don't believe that altruism exists); so now I just need to convince myself of that!

An evening in Cowes

Last night I went for my first real outing, over to Cowes on the Isle of Wight for a cocktail party, during Cowes Week.   It felt like quite an adventure!  

We drove to Southampton (which I found rather stressful because the traffic was heavy and quite stop-start and erratic, which I dislike at the best of times!) and took the Red Jet hi-speed ferry; as soon as we arrived at the ferry terminal I started to feel a little panicky, especially when I saw that there was a huge queue waiting for the ferry. It is always busy during Cowes Week.  

Well we got the tickets, and by the time we came out most of the queue had dispersed onto the boat that had just come in.   They have no special arrangements for people in wheelchairs, so we just joined the queue and that was the point at which I thought 'I don't want to do this'. It was partly the stress of getting there, and partly the knowledge that I was going to get a lot of attention on the other side, as it was the first time I'd seen most of the people at the party since the accident.  However, while we were shuffling forward in the queue, Mr H. spotted a friend of mine who was also coming over, a happy, bubbly girl, and she sat with us and really saved my evening, as I had recovered my composure and cheered up by the time we arrived in Cowes.

Wheelchair arrangements on the Red Jet were - basically - non existent.  We were advised to wheel it on backwards whereas forwards was a lot easier; then there was the question of where to park me. The only place we could find was right at the front where the rows are a bit shorter so there is space for my little wheelchair on the end of the row.   On the return journey, one of the staff started moving luggage to make a space in the luggage rack for me!  It was as if they never had passengers in wheelchairs, maybe they always go on the big ferry with a car? (the Red Jet is foot passengers only).  But even so we were surprised.

I read a blog recently by a lady who had evidently recently had head surgery and was talking about how people stare at people in wheelchairs.  Not in my experience: they are more likely to ignore you!  People walk directly towards you and leap out of the way at the last minute; stand in the way until you say 'excuse me', bump into you.    Maybe I should put a comment on her blog suggesting that the staring was not because she was in a wheelchair, but because she had a large white bandage on her head!

The party was good, the sun came out after a cloudy, wet afternoon, and it was lovely to see the girls from my office and the staff from our head office; everyone was really pleased to see me out and about, which made me realise how much they had probably been worried about me and not quite knowing what state I was in.   I also realised that when sitting in a wheelchair and chatting to mostly girls, you are sitting with your head at breast height, which is rather off-putting in a conversation; when I mentioned this, Mr H. promptly wanted to swap places with me!

By the end of all the sitting up and a bit of standing on crutches, my leg had developed the tight band around it, which feels a bit like a giant jubilee clip being tightened; and my knee and hip were sore and aching.  My body was very grateful to fall into bed at around 10pm, but I did feel good for having gone out and experienced more of real life and what it felt like in my current state - as one friend put it, a 'fact finding research trip'!