After having treated my stomach like a pin cushion for the past 4 weeks, leaving it bruised and sore after the odd needle bent slightly after jabbing it into my finger first by mistake, I’m happy to say that I no longer have to go through that morning ritual as the cast is finally off.
My shopping date kindly drove me to the hospital yesterday and pushed me around in a wheelchair, bumping into just about everything in the process, as it’s so far to get to the bone doctor on crutches. I really appreciated that as I was going backwards and forwards to be re-xrayed and what have you. The scariest bit was having the cast sawn off, especially when the nurse made contact with my ankle, not that she cut through it, or anything.
My foot is still slightly broken but the doctor said that it should be alright and then suggested physiotherapy. No, not more money spent on a doctor who makes you do painful things that you really don’t want to do. So I simply asked the doctor if he could give me a few exercises that I could do at home – so he did. My ankle hurts more than ever now, and is just as swollen as it was in the first place – but I can walk, sort of, and I am so glad to see the back of those crutches. For the first time in what seems like forever, my hands don’t hurt from using the crutches and I can carry a cup of tea into the living room – albeit rather slowly.
I am liberally applying Shea butter to the area that was in plaster as the dead skin is falling off at a rather alarming rate. I’ll try exfoliating my leg again tonight until all the dead skin has gone, but I think it will be a while before the bruising goes. Little by little and slowly at first.
I think Hermie is the faster mover in this house – for the time-being.