On Friday I had a significant operation on my ankle. This was to correct an injury I’d acquired whilst slipping on some black ice in January of 2018 which left me on crutches for a few days and never got properly better and, over time, has been causing more and more pain and restricting my mobility. The operation has been a long time coming but thankfully is now history.
I’ve had the tendon on my inner right ankle replaced, stitches put into the ligament to help it repair and my heel bone broken and realigned with the help of some pins and a plate. All in all some quite invasive surgery which found me at about 1pm on Friday 26th April waking up at the Northern General Hospital in Sheffield with a pot on my right leg from knee down to toes and with the strictest instructions that I am not allowed to bare any weight on it for at least 6 weeks.
My house is a beautiful old house on three floors with a cellar kitchen, living area on the ground floor and bathroom and bedrooms on the first floor. My house is not designed for someone in my current predicament! Trying to get up and down the stairs just to the bathroom is a massive work of effort and fraught with danger for me. To get to the kitchen down some narrow stone steps covered in dodgy fitting carpet is certainly not to be attempted in my current state. I made the effort to come down stairs on Saturday afternoon to watch Sheffield United beat Ipswich Town on TV and virtually make certain of Premier League football next season (since confirmed by Leeds United only drawing with Aston Villa yesterday). Whilst the thought of my beloved Blades making it to the promised land of the Premier league helped the pain somewhat, the exertions required for the experience left me in considerable pain over Saturday night and Sunday morning, hence I’ve not attempted it since.
Effectively I am a prisoner within four walls for 6 weeks. When you think about it, it sounds amazing. I have 6 weeks to catch up with reading the books and magazines I’ve been meaning to do for the last few months and years. I can binge watch some of the TV I’ve not had chance to watch for ages and catch up on videos long since forgotten on the shelves, all whilst being waited upon by someone I worship. Sounds like the child trapped in the sweet shop doesn’t it? Reality isn’t quite the same. Yes I have books and tv series and films lined up. I’m being looked after well by the love of my life, but already I want to scream with frustration.
I’ve always been a very independent person and quite cerebral in that I think a lot (far too much and much of it garbage) and my mind works overtime all the time. When you have all this time on your hands with nothing else to think about my mind is in overdrive plus plus plus.
I’m struggling to (a) focus on doing something for any length of time (such as read or watch a film) (b) struggling to come to terms with the fact that I’m almost helpless and totally reliant on someone else and ergo (c) overthinking to an extreme even for me.
Of course what I need to focus on are two things ..
- This is temporary – my leg will repair and I will get my independence back and I shouldn’t feel sorry for myself because there are many people who are reliant on others to a greater extent than me and their issues may not be temporary. So Chadburn get your head out of your arse and be grateful because ..
- I will never get an opportunity like this again to have a chance to feed my brain with everything I want to feed it with without the pressure of having to go to work or cook a meal or do some shopping or do some gardening or just experience real life.
I’m therefore, over the coming weeks going to start writing down what I’m doing and thinking on my blog to try and give me that focus I need and a chance to rationalise what is in my head to avoid blowing it all out of proportion.
If you read this take pity on me… remember I’m going slowly stir crazy and feeling sorry for myself when I have absolutely no right to be, but distraction helps so please get in touch even it is just to say hi, pull yourself together or you just want a chat – about anything whether it is maths, politics, books, or any old rubbish! Don’t use the comment box – I get so much spam through there I don’t use it any more, so email me on firstname.lastname@example.org.
Meanwhile I intend boring you my tales from within four walls for a few weeks.