You’ll Never Walk Alone… Unless You Really Want To…
I’ve felt ‘normality’ has been within my grasp this week. Making a meal, hot drinks… and taking my dog for a walk BY MYSELF! Taking Pooch out for a walk is ‘our’ thing… our time, which I was really starting to miss. If you have pets, you know what a difference they can make to your life, especially when feeling unwell. He gives me the get up and go I need to get moving – I don’t think I’d find the motivation some days otherwise. So, I knew I’d have to be able to do the distance on one crutch if I was going to manage this. Himself had been supervising our walks and was nervous about letting me go out alone… for a little dog… he is STRONG! Combine that with sliding on the mud, a bit of a recipe for disaster. I felt like I needed walking shoes with spikes, unfortunately, wellies had to do.
I think Himself had fears of what would look like a moonwalk through the mud, being towed by Pooch, the result of which would be me on the floor in rather a lot of pain. The thing you fear the most as a Hippie. Falling.
Being the conscientious dog owner I am, I also needed the ability to bend to pick up Pooch’s Number Two’s. I was starting to get concerned about the back garden turning into a bit of a poo-minefield. The sooner I could bend forward, without breaking my restrictions of course, the better. There’s only one way to do that, what is often referred to on the support groups as, a ‘Golfer’s Bend’… or what I like to call a ‘Disney Prince Bow’!
See, gracefully sliding your leg out behind you as you bend, without breaking your restrictions.
Even though I nailed it… it takes practice and concentration to be graceful while doing it in wellies, in the mud while also carrying a bag of poop, I can tell you.
Out Into The Real World
I went to the supermarket in the car during the week as a practice run, like the test-journey for the next step – GOING OUT! This was to see how easy it would be to get in and out and also that I was comfortable. I did it once before at two days post-op, but the whole experience was uncomfortable and painful memory I still have.
We had planned to visit our favourite café for breakfast. It was like a precision planned operation; for instance remembering the hippie-supplies I was so used to carrying; drugs, water to take the drugs, a cushion to sit on to raise the height of the chair when we got there, the Shewee (just in case), more drugs. I was determined that I wasn’t going to wear the purposely-bought-for-recovery ginormous hammertime-joggers, with the baggy crotch, while I was out (as well as they have served me and as comfortable as they have been, it was not a pretty look), I wanted to look ‘normal’ and at least make an effort.
Not being able to wear anything too restrictive; jeans were definitely out, so I opted for another elasticated waist; some leggings (I’ll know I’m better when I can ditch the elasticated waists!). Do you know what a wrestle it was to get in them with my restrictions in place, using a grabber?! Thank goodness Himself was on hand to help. By the time we were actually ready to go, I was exhausted.
So off we went, thankfully I managed a fairly swift entry and exit of the car with my trusty friend…
…and the journey was 10-fold more comfortable than the last time I was in the car.
Being sat in the café was a dream. People chatting and bustling by; ‘normal’ life. Now, as of recent weeks, eating at home with me is like feeding at the zoo. Because I can’t bend towards my plate while eating, I have been chucking an awful lot down myself, so although there have been jokes between myself and Himself about getting me a bib, I have resorted to tucking a tea towel in my top for every meal. I look a little like this:
Another one of my proud moments!
When our food arrived I really had to take my time to make sure I didn’t spill it down myself. The distance my fork was travelling from my plate to my mouth felt as tense as the opening scene from the film, Cliffhanger. Himself, seeing my concentration and with a cheeky smirk asked “Not going to tuck that napkin in your collar?”, “No” I retorted… “I save that for at home… just for you”.
So even though it took forever to eat my breakfast, (there was no way I was going to use that napkin as a bib!), it was okay – I was relaxed, comfortable and just enjoying being out. It was also okay having to carry a cushion around, which to an onlooker may have made it look like I was suffering from haemorrhoids (yet another proud moment). Can’t ditch the cushion just yet though… only 2 more weeks before the restrictions can slowly start to lift.
Healing very nicely, have continued to use the massage technique to help with ‘bumpy’ scar tissue.
(nb; all pictures within this blog are taken and posted without any filters to show the true extent of the scarring/healing)