gamiila: (Default)
I had my last check-up this morning. It lasted all of 2 minutes, at the end of which dr. Van der Flier, my consultant, pronounced that everything had healed splendidly and all I needed to do was keep up with my exercises and build up the strength in my ankle, and closed my file.

I wish I'd pushed for this surgery years ago. It's made such a difference to my everyday life to be able to walk without that deep pain that comes from chronic tendonitis -- I'm surprised at how my doctors have professed themselves surprised at the obvious correlation between the previous instability of the joint and the Achilles problems I'd been complaining to them about for years, but which I'm now completely free of. After this, I can retire the icon I've used for all my ankle no longer reflects the reality of my situation.

Quiz result: what my soul looks like )


Aug. 31st, 2007 08:53 am
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All through last week, Jobsworth has been urging me to come back to work, and I suppose subconsciously I have been pushing myself to comply to his wishes. In the end though, it has impacted my convalescence in a negative way: I've been suffering from a bad case of postoperative oedema for the past 10 days, and my lower leg, which has turned the colour of red bricks, has swollen to three times the size of my healthy one.

Yesterday, Rutger sounded the alarm bell, and refused to carry on with the treatment until I had it checked out by my doctor. I've just come back from my consultation, and have been severely reprimanded. I am to 'take it easy' (and this time, she's taken care to explain to me exactly what I can and cannot do, so for one thing, I've been ordered to abandon my re-painting of the window frames and skirting boards for the time being - thank God I'd already finished most of it), and I'm not to even attempt to go back to the dreaded commute any time within the next 4 to 6 weeks.

Now all I need to do is inform Jobsworth, HR and the company doctor, and get them to agree to extend my sick leave for the duration. I have a feeling they're not going to be pleased about this, since the nature of my work means I can't do any of it from home.
gamiila: (Default)
Jobsworth wants me back in the office from Monday. Actually, he wanted me back in from this morning, but I've got doctor's and physio appointments all through this week, and I know I'm not up to that two hour commute both ways yet, so grumpily he's agreed to let me have these next few days off still. I've no idea whether next Monday I'll feel any less daunted about the commute, the 60 hour working week and untold grief from you-know-who, but I'll see how it goes.

Rutger's given me some exercises for my ankle; and though they hurt me to do them, I can definitely feel that the operation has been a success: I have far better stability in my left ankle than I have in my unoperated right. I've never been very good at standing on one leg without keeling over, but now I can just about manage it on the left.

I've finally started on the job of re-painting the window frames, which I needed to do since I had my double glazing installed, but kept putting off until such time as I felt like it. Not that I feel particularly inspired to do it now, but with the imminent arrival of my Venetian blinds (of which, unfortunately, there has been no sign so far), I thought I'd better get cracking, anyway. The only problem is, that I've forgotten what shade of Living Colour white I'd actually painted them last time, and now I'm beginning to think that it can't have been 'Havana', after all.


Aug. 22nd, 2007 05:04 pm
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Last night when I went to bed, my ankle had swollen to twice the size it was when it came out of the cast. This morning, the swelling had gone down, but it was still noticeable enough for Rutger, my physiotherapist, to give me a telling off...although he did it in the nicest possible way.

It all comes down to, I suppose, my interpretation of the phrase 'take it easy' my medical advisors like to bandy about so much. Why can't they just tell me to 'stay off it', if that's what they mean?

The technician responsible for putting people in and cutting them free of their casts gasped when he saw what I'd done to his handiwork. I'd almost completely worn away the plaster sole on my cast. I didn't like to wear the protective shoe indoors; and because it was a walking cast, I walked with it. But I didn't go out all that much, and if I did, I didn't go far!

So when I arrived for my appointment at the practice, Rutger was amazed to see me walking (fairly) normally, like I hadn't just come out of a cast. But it's been 24 hours! He should have seen me yesterday, when I was walking home from the hospital. I went at a snail's pace, and had difficulty controlling and coordinating my steps. He tells me I ought to have taken a cab, but it was such a fine day and I was curious to see what I could do. He tells me I'm pushing it; I tell him I'm merely testing my limits.

Because he's made me promise to rest it for the next 5 days, I came home without making the detour to the hardware store I'd had in mind. I'd wanted to buy paint and do the window frames, but he doesn't want me climbing up and down ladders yet. He's a spoilsport, but he means well.
gamiila: (Default)
The cast came off this morning. Yay! for unencumberedness. It feels a little weird to be walking, and of course I'm still favouring my left leg a bit, but over the next few days things should improve dramatically. I have been warned to take it easy, and to be very careful with steps and stairs and kerbs and the like.

The skin on my foot and leg looks a fright, though -- but nothing, I believe, a long soak, a pumice stone and a dollop of cream can't sort out. Let the pampering commence!

BTW, over the last few weeks I've become seriously addicted to Heroes, and yesterday, I've watched my very first episode of Ugly Betty, which I know is going to be a favourite, too. So stand by for seeing me exchange my present Doctor Who(by which I mean, Ten)-icons for icons of my new fandoms soon.

gratuitous quiz result )
gamiila: (Default)
I hate those notions I get just before I wake up. This morning, I woke up convinced I could walk. I swung my legs over the side, and was cruelly disabused of that idea. Another day spent just lying was all I could do to relieve the boredom somewhat to paint my nails to match my cast, and then take a picture of it. That kept me occupied for 5 minutes...

There's not a book here I haven't read yet, and daytime television is a curse, although occasionally in among the infomercials and the phone-in quizzes, there's something altogether worth watching. In my case, I've been lucky in that my convalescence coincided with the daily afternoon broadcast of the 70s hit series The Onedin Line. I remember catching some of it in my early teens, but this is the first chance I've had to follow it from the pilot, which was first aired in 1971/72 when I was 9 years old. I've become quite addicted over the last two weeks, and can only hope I won't have to return to work before the series ends. Hush now, it starts in a minute!
gamiila: (Default)
The dreaded company doctor was supposed to be calling and check on my progress an hour ago - but I've not heard from him. Typical! I lay awake worrying they might order me back to work, and then they forget about me!

The first white plaster cast came off this morning, and was replaced by a lightweight purple walking cast. Theoretically, I suppose this means I'm to try walking, but I'm not finding it easy. In fact, I'm finding it bloody painful and awkward, and am relying on my trusty crutches to get around still. I can get from the bed to the sofa, and from the sofa to the loo, but I can't manage the stairs and can't go out to get my groceries -- yet I insisted on being ferried home this afternoon. It's been lovely staying at Mum's these last two weeks, but I read all the books I'd brought with me, read most of the books on her shelves too, and missed the company of my cats and the comfort of my own bed too much to stay there for another couple of days as she suggested. I had trouble getting up the stairs, and I know I won't go down them any time soon, but I won't need to 'cause Mum's been an angel and got me enough groceries to last me a day or two before she went back to her place.

I did have a bit of a shock when the plaster came off, as this was the first chance I had to see what had been done to me. Somehow, I'd expected to see a much smaller incision -- doctors are so clever nowadays! Unfortunately though, it seems that I've been operated on by someone who doesn't believe in keyhole surgery or taking half measures, and the cut is some 10-12 cms long. Also, he won't win any prizes for needlepoint. They took out the stitches and made it bleed again, but I'm told it's all healing nicely and I'm to report back there for this new cast to be taken off on the 21st of August.

The surgery itself went well, taking little more than an hour. There was only one problem: they couldn't find where to administer the epidural, and jabbed the needle into my vertebrae a few times before they finally found a space between them. Most unpleasant, but next time I'll ask for an epidural again because I've not suffered any of the usual side effects like headache or nausea that I've experienced with the general anaesthetics I've had in earlier surgeries.

Well then, what have I missed in the time I've been away?

ETA: I think my switching phone companies earlier in the week may have had the unfortunate effect of my phone (landline) going quite DEAD. Which means the company doctor may have called after all, but failed to get through. ::sigh:: What's the use of me leaving my mobile number with their office, if they won't f***ing dial that? I'll see if I can sort it out tomorrow.

On hiatus

Jul. 9th, 2007 12:04 am
gamiila: (Default)
This is me, logging off. 8 Hours from now, I'll be checking into hospital to have surgery done on my ankle. Afterwards, I'll be staying with my Mum for a few weeks, and I won't be coming back online until I've got my walking cast and can manage on my own again.

I'll miss you all.

Take care,
gamiila: (Default)
The day of my admission into hospital is drawing inexorably nearer, and I'm getting more nervous by the hour. I've cleaned, hoovered and ironed, and now I'm sitting here in a tidy flat wondering what clothes to pack for my 2 week sojourn at Mum's. I think of a pair of trousers, and I wonder if the legs will be wide enough for my leg in its cast to pass through...Maybe I should just pack skirts...or nighties?

And I'm beset by so many more questions: will I be able to go to the loo on my own? How do I wash my hair? Is it too late to call the whole thing off?

The nurse warned me not to bring any valuables to the ward with me. I'll need money to pay for a cab, but should I leave my phone at home? How then will I call in sick?

Will the cats be alright when I'm gone?
gamiila: (Default)
Enough, already! I've had it with this summer that just won't hurry up and get here. I'm so sick of all this rain and wind and more rain. Here we are in July, and I'm wearing jumpers, for pity's sake! Could those two or three sunny weeks we had back in April really have been it for this year?

Tomorrow's going to be my last day at work before my surgery. Yay! I've taken the Friday off to give the flat a really good clean, as I don't want to come home to it after two weeks at my Mum's and, hampered by my cast, be unable to do anything about my dirty kitchen floor. The weekend will be taken up by me ferrying stuff (clothes, books, mp3 player, phone -- and chargers, mustn't forget chargers!) over to Mum's, and saying teary farewells to my cats who Mum won't let me bring. Poor darlings! They know something's up; they've stuck to me like glue the last couple of days, and seem to get upset when I move out of the room and their direct line of vision. I hear them meow as they go looking for me, and Manasse has gotten into the annoying habit of trying to bar my way to the door each morning, dancing around my legs until he almost trips me up. Whatever time remains will most likely be spent here, as this will be my last chance to get online before I come back.

And although I tell myself it's too early yet to notice any change, I can't shake the impression that my jeans are starting to fit better. I don't feel like my belly is straining against their waistband as much -- but that could be wishful thinking. I still don't see a supermodel looking back at me from the mirror.

Happy birthday, [ profile] diachrony! I hope your day is fabulous!
gamiila: (Default)
The hospital called. The assistant had finally managed to speak to my orthopaedic surgeon, and pose my question regarding the omission of the removal of the exostosis in my operation plan. And it was bad news, I'm afraid.

The surgeon confessed that he had clean forgotten about it when confronted by the tremendous 'shuck' in my joint, and he doesn't feel comfortable tackling it without further investigation. He proposes we leave it for now. If I, on the other hand, insist on having both the ligament and the exostosis problems dealt with in one single operation, the procedure planned for July cannot take place, as he will need to see me, review my case and come up with a plan as to how best to remove the bony growth. And because he's going off on holiday next week, he can't do that before my scheduled surgery and we would therefore have to postpone it...until September.

But that would mean I'd have no chance of going on tour in October!

So I agreed to leave things as they were. Have I made the right choice, though? I wonder.


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December 2012

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