A taste of freedom

Feeling free atop the First Flatiron, Colorado, USA. 

Today’s post comes to you direct from Traverse City, USA.  Behind us lie work, London and the British summer (eighteen degrees and raining when we left); ahead, 24 days of summer holiday fun in the company of Greg, Carrie and the extended Johns clan.  Freedom beckons: the freedom to do everything or nothing; to go shopping, swim in Lake Michigan, drink coffee, eat fudge, sunbathe, read a book or two.  It is the first summer holiday I can remember where I have not come away with a bag full of ropes, harnesses and climbing hardware, which in itself feels strangely liberating.

I am also, at long, long last, free from the plaster cast that has dogged my life for the past four months.  On Wednesday morning I left the plaster room at Kings Hospital minus one smelly purple samiento cast, and sporting instead a very high-tech looking removable ‘air cast’.  It has a variety of velco straps and buckles and comes complete with a pump to allow me to get that ‘just right’ fit.  Pump notwithstanding, it is not particularly comfortable, nor is it the most graceful item of footwear I’ve ever owned. But at least I can take it off, which at the moment I am doing at every opportunity.

Released from its purple incarceration, my lower left leg was something to behold.  I had a glimpse four weeks ago and things seem to have deteriorated significantly since then.  Once I had removed the thick layer of dead skin (a strangely satisfying task that took about half an hour – my heel looked like it was encased in a thick layer of parmesan cheese) I was able to gaze in wonder at a leg that is basically the same thickness from knee to ankle.  It is also strangely hairy – my left knee now looks like it is wearing a beard. And I have a clearly visible bump where the damaged tibia has grown back thicker and stronger than before.  Now I just have to learn to walk like a normal person. Early signs are encouraging – the consultant seems to think the bone has healed quite well, and my physiotherapist was surprised at the range of movement I already have in my ankle.  When asked to pull my toes back towards my shin it turned out I have about 70% of the range of range of movement of my good foot.  Since the toe-to-shin direction of flex is crucial for walking, this is, apparently a Good Thing. 

This is, annoyingly, only the start of my rehab. I’m told it will take at least three months to build the muscles in my leg back to a normal state and for the time being I’m back on the crutches (which seems like a backward step after last weekend’s crutch-free wedding dance antics - more of which in a separate post). The physio was gentle with my ankle at Wednesday’s manipulation session, although I get the impression that on my return to the UK things may soon turn brutal.  But I can take it – I have had a taste of freedom and I like it!