Progress

Progress, albeit at a glacial pace. Perrito Moreno Glacier, Argentina.

Nine weeks on, and Lara is making great progress. She has started smiling (sporadically), and I think she even cries a bit less than she used to (or maybe I am just getting better at ignoring it). She is even allowed occasionally to wear real clothes rather than the ubiquitous babygro – today flowery trousers and top, and a cardigan knitted by Granny Eddy (all absolutely massive on her still-tiny frame).  The time spent between sleeping, crying and feeding – what we optimistically refer to as “playtime” - is increasing. And all this without the influence of Gina “Do What I tell You” Ford.

Three weeks on, and I too am making progress. The pain in my lower leg is less, or at least less constant. My eyes no longer water when I first stand up in the morning and the swelling in my lower leg has gone down considerably.  My cast no longer feels unbearably tight - in fact, it actually feels loose at times, a result of the muscle wastage in my left leg.  (I didn’t really have much there in the first place - in my university rowing club I was often – and, I felt, unfairly – referred to as ‘chicken legs’ - so it is a slight concern to realise that whatever little muscles I did have are slowly but surely disappearing). Hobbling up and down the stairs is getting easier – and quicker – and I am religiously doing my leg-raising exercises, three sets of ten, four times a day.  At my last hospital appointment I could even see from the x-rays that my Tibia bone is has started to re-grow across the break – quite a remarkable thing to see.  They tell me that in another three weeks the full leg cast will be replaced with a shorter one and in anticipation of that stage in the healing process I have been given a large white knee-length condom, which should allow me to get in the shower or even – fingers crossed – the bath (thanks to Bob Boot for that one).

Some things haven’t changed. I still spend most of the day sitting on the sofa with my leg on a pile of cushions. I am still watching The Wire (although am now up to series 3 – progress in itself I suppose). And I am still munching the painkillers (I foolishly tried to wean myself off them, only to realise just how effective at killing pain they really are).  I still spend quite a lot of my time feeling bored, frustrated and irritated by my plight. But on the whole, things are looking up and there is definitely an end in sight.  Perhaps not the end of the end, perhaps not even the beginning of the end, but this at least may be the end of the beginning.  Progress of sorts.