The Cast Has Died

Ok, so that was a really bad pun, probably unworthy of the name. But still, the cast has now left my right foot, and after about an hour in the shower yesterday, more or less successfully removing the accumulated gunk off said foot, it's right to go.

Except it's not. It's still incredibly swollen with a weird little red patch of broken capilliaries in a very prominent position on what used to be my attractive and slender right ankle. Nothing attractive or slender about it now, my boy! It has a 4 inch scar up the back, a host of little black dots caused by ingrown hairs around the entire ankle and calf, against which war will be waged, and the aforementioned capilliaries. I also have a right foot like Barbie's (leaving aside that hers are slim, hairless and brown) and so currently cannot wear flat shoes. This is more problematic that I once might have imagined.

Still it's gone. And it ain't coming back again. No. Oh, no no no. And I'm enjoying the subtle pleasures of being able to stand up in the shower, roll over in bed without a dead weight on my leg and the fact that I no long feel like I am wearing a winter boot in the middle of a hot and humid Sydney summer.

Ah, the heat.

Let me pass now the other issue of note at present. According to the Herald, it is currently 32 degrees, although hotter earlier in the day. This is, however, only the start of an entire week of hot weather that is not predicted to end until Sunday. And it will be humid, so it will be sweltering at night as well. The joy. Those who posit the theory that hell is a furnace have ignored the crucial element of water. Hell should really be described as a humid furnace if maximum torture is required for the masses interred therein.

So simple and so revolutionary

It occurred to me the other day that I could get around mum's house on the chair from the study. What a revelation.

Suddenly, I can move about easily. Brought it back home and I Can Do Things. It's brilliant. I started the dishwasher and brushed the small child's teeth for the first time in nearly a month (this does not mean that they hadn't been done, just that Himself had been getting her to do it and not to my entire satisfaction). I cooked dinner. It doesn't worry me when the small child wants something because I can do it, and easily. I can get drunk because piloting a chair is easier than crutches.  I don't have sore legs and I can get everywhere quickly. It has transformed life.

Yes, that IS a bloody large G&T on the table!

The small child has discovered the concept of "Chocolatey Hungry". I'm quite impressed that she asks about it "Mum, I'm a bit chocolately hungry". At her age, I wouldn't have asked, I'd have just eaten. And quickly. But she doesn't like strawberry milk. This is brilliant.  A treat, ie pink milk, a la Charlie & Lola, and she doesn't like it. So she doesn't have a sweet tooth. For this, may the Good Lord make me truly grateful.

Cast #4

So I've got the 4th cast so far in the illustrious career of bobthekelpie's right achilles tendon. It's the first full cast, and hopefully the last one I get. I am so seriously never, ever going to do this again.

George Michael's "Last Christmas" on the TV. How well I remember when that came out, 26 years ago, and every 13 year old girl in the western world was telling George that he could have her heart. OF course, at that point, we didn't realise that it was the fella's hearts he was really after!

I'm sick of these crutches.

REALLY sick of them. And the buggers have only been on for 2 weeks. Another 4 to go. Not a lot of Christmas joy here this year. But at least I now have a lifetime supply of panadeine forte. Gotta love that stuff.

On the positive side, I actually got to go in to see Charlie & Lola today, thanks to the staff at the Opera House, who not only provided a free wheelchair but also a different seat so that I wouldn't have to exhibit my undoubted inefficiency with said crutches. It has made my week. which my week needed.

Small child has been going overboard on the hair twirling and I am starting to wonder if I will have any left by the new year. Hair, that is. I should have the small child. I have now watched Dora's Christmas extravaganza a good half dozen times over the last 36 hours. I'm a little over it. Yes, this is an understatement.

Himself received a yodelling goat at the work Christmas Party. He thought it was great. Mind you he hasn't had to listen to Dora in one ear and a plush goat singing "High on a hill lived a lonely goatherd" in the other, as the small child quickly learnt to manipulate its mouth.

I wonder if the knowledge that the song is from The Sound of Music will diminish his ardour. Must find out. He is turning out to be like his father in ways I never knew. Much as I love Buzz, this nascient love of musical toys is disturbing.....

Because background can be important.... here's where it all started

6 December 2010 - And the Twit of the Year 2010 goes to............... BOBTHEKELPEEEEEEEEEE!
Yes. Because I was at my work Christmas party on Saturday night. Having a bit of a boogie with my mates. I was outside a decent dinner, a reasonable amount of champagne and a less amount of G&T. Good fun was being had. The very high shoes I was wearing weren't hurting as much as I thought they would, and I hadn't tripped and sprained my ankle. All was well.

Until........

I was dancing. Barefoot. Sedately. I'd already shown all the younger kids my killer moves from 1992, to riotous applause, and I'd acquitted myself well during Nutbush City Limits.

Then disaster struck. I heard a crack, and suddenly realised I couldn't walk. This was not good, not good at all. A friend grabbed some ice, another grabbed a medicinal G&T and a third rescued my shoes and offered to drive me home. It occurred to me that A&E might be a more appropriate place to go. So there we went.

I was quite thankful that Mona Vale is not a happening place at night, as I got seen quickly, and the A&E did not have the rivers of blood and riotous drunks I had been lead to expect. The doctor diagnosed that I'd done something to my achilles tendon and put my leg in a cast.  I hobbled back to the car with some antiquated crutches and spent all Sunday in bed, because crutches and me don't go together too well. Today I spent most of the day back at the hospital, getting x-rays and ultrasound to confirm what I already knew. I also got another cast put on.

Of course, it was my right leg, so I can't drive. On the positive side, at least Paul and my mum can cover getting Gemma to and from daycare. But the new cast is not nearly so comfortable as the old cast, and Paul has already practiced rudimentary doctoring by cutting away a chunk of the top so I can bend my leg.

I can't get up the stairs at the front of the house, so I'm effectively housebound. When I got home today, I had to go round the back of the house, assisted by Paul and our 86 year old neighbour. And to top it all off, Paul is at the pub with his cousin, and I'm trying, unsuccessfully, to get Gemma to sleep.

I tell you, Santa had bloody well better get me that MacBook Air I want from Christmas this year!!!


10 December 2010 Being the further adventures of bobthekelpie's achilles tendon....
So I spent the afternoon at the Fracture Clinic of Mona Vale Hospital, sitting in a wheelchair and looking enviously at those who appear to know what to do with crutches. I was in a wheelchair, courtesy of A&E.

And it turns out that I had two options:

a) get surgery and have a cast for 6 weeks or

b) not get surgery, be in a cast for 8 weeks, and have a weakened tendon to which the same accident could occur again.

It does not take any great depth of intelligence to realise that I went for option a.

So I will be having surgery tomorrow morning, hopefully going home tomorrow afternoon, although they could keep me in overnight. If they do keep me in overnight, I sincerely hope that there will be no dementia pensioners trying to gets their keks off in the middle of the ward, while simultaneously taking on the security guards, as happened at my last fun filled stay in Mona Vale when I got cellulitis following an appendectomy. I also hope that I get one of the wards with the beautiful views over Mona Vale Beach and the Pacific, rather than the ones that face the somewhat less alluring prospect of 6 lanes of Pittwater Road. However, only time will tell.

And the MacBook Air will most definitely be arriving as an early present from Santa.

I have gently suggested that a bottle of gin would be an appropriate accompaniment.....