Yesterday released me from the last eight weeks of mainly sitting around on my bum. I am now allowed to put some weight on my reconstructed ankle again. That is the awesome, extremely good news.
The bad news is that I am in another cast for the next six weeks – a heavier one, but a more psychedelic one at that…
Yesterday I was worried what it would be like to walk again with my saggy, insubstantial body. Would I just crumble to the floor when I took my first step? Unfortunately one has to wait for 24 hours for the cast to dry, so I had a whole extra day to worry about those first steps. Another fear was assuaged when I was given a lovely shoe/boot/wrap to put on the bottom of my new cast to provide cushioning and stop me slipping uncontrollably all over the floor.
Today, being pedantic and not wanting to mess up, I followed the instructions meticulously and figured out what 30 pounds of weight felt like – a lot of pressing down. And, I am happy to report, I actually managed to walk, albeit tentatively with my crutches. Even better – my fears were not realised; I didn’t collapse on the floor with my weakened muscles no longer able to hold me up, nor did I slide across the floor on my cast. It did feel very odd though, putting my foot on the floor for the first time in two months. I had to find a fair bit of bravado to overcome the anxiety that was trying to take over my mind.
Since then I have made several laps of the house. My legs have been used and stretched for the first time in two months and are demanding more movement. I have that happy ache you feel after a good run. Every step feels better and more confident. I am hoping that I can throw away the crutches in two weeks. The cast will be hanging around for another four weeks after that though – another six weeks showering with a plastic bag wrapped around my leg.
For those of you who are interested in such details, the nurse wanted to buy me a pack of razors because I was so horrified by the state of my leg. Quite rightly too.