So, I haven’t gone mad yet – even after two weeks confined to base with my foot propped up on cushions to raise it above hip level. And yesterday, 14 days after the operation, I went back to the hospital to have my stitches/staples removed. That meant the cast had to be cut away and then I got a look at what had been done. I should probably have looked at the time they put the cast on, but I wasn’t what you might describe as fully compos mentis at the time, what with all the anaesthetic I was still awash with. The nurse duly cleaned the skin of iodine (left over from the op) before removing what turned out to be staples – 30 of them, 14 on the outside of my ankle, 14 on the inside, and two on the back.
Apparently all is healing well, there’s very little swelling and no inflamation, and it’s looking pretty good (if not very pretty). I go back on Tuesday next to let Prof. Ribbans get a look at it, which will mean a third plaster cast, and then just 3.5 weeks to go before I can escape from the thing and be allowed to put weight on the offending foot.
And so what do I do to celebrate today? I get my crutches crossed up trying to get through the kitchen door and end up on the floor, with bruises to my backside and shoulder, and grazes to my back and toe. Ouch!