The Walking Wounded

I’m a free woman – the bondage of my cast has been ripped away and I can see my leg!! It was not a pretty sight, but a good soak in the bath got rid of the dead skin, dried blood, Betadine, and scabs!! Sorry about the gory details, but I like to share.

Going, going, gone...

Anyway I am now sporting the world’s largest and ugliest boot, and it’s grey. Who wears grey footwear???

The good thing about this piece of fashion disaster is that I can take it off and shower standing up. This is a breakthrough on my road to normality. No more clunking Lawrence with my cast in bed. Sleeping with an unfettered leg is a joy.

Where are the Fashion Police when you need them??

I can also hobble around without crutches, but took them to the pub last night for our celebration dinner. They are good for the sympathy value, and give me a sense of security.

So many people stop me to ask what has happened to my leg, out of kindness, but always tell me about some distant relative who broke their ankle, or a personal story of their own broken bones. When comes to how many pins, screws, plates etc, I trump them every time. “11 screws” I boast, no contest, I win every time.

The physio starts next week, this is where the real pain and work begin. Not looking forward to it, but has to be done. I should be dancing on the tables again in about 4 weeks, but I think my kickboxing days are over.

Wish me luck.

Send gin...