Well here I am blogging again from a new house but still with the same old stress fracture almost seven weeks to the day since it has happened. Last Friday, 5th August I decided to see yet another orthopaedic surgeon (this was the third one). A friend had recommended him to me. He was reputed to be the best and most experienced orthopaedic surgeon in
. Well, unfortunately he was and still is on his annual leave and taking a well earned holiday so I made an appointment and went to his surgery nevertheless as he had organised a locum doctor to look after his patients. I figured anyone with such a good reputation would also get an equally reputable locum doctor to cover for them. Anyway, so I went to a nearby clinic by taxi and waited for almost two hours before I finally got to see the locum doctor. I said to the doctor that I had had a stress fracture since 25th June and it had already been six weeks and it wasn’t getting better and he didn’t even bother to look at all the x-rays and scans that I had done he just said we have to put your foot in a plaster as we need to isolate and stabilise the bones surrounding the injury and give the fracture time to heal. So, this is how things are at present. Tunisia
My left foot is in plaster from my toes up to my knee. My toes are sticking out and look quite pretty with plum coloured nail varnish on them whilst the rest of my foot up to my knee resembles part of an Egyptian mummy. The strange thing is, I had always wanted to have a plaster cast. Not at this precise moment in time I might hastily add. At boarding school in
I used to envy fellow students who had broken a limb and secretly wished if only I too could have a cast and have the whole class write get well soon messages and draw pictures on it. I must be careful what I wish for in the future as unfortunately I have realised that you don’t have any control as to when a wish will or may come true. So here I am with a plaster cast which I had wished for when I was 11 years old and I am about to turn 41. The plaster came 30 years too late and does not hold the same thrill and excitement for me as it would have held had I had it back then. In fact, it is very heavy and rather cumbersome and has slowed my walking speed down even more if I was walking as slow as a tortoise before I am now walking as slow as a snail. If I were to walk any slower I might start going backwards instead of forwards if that makes any sense … England
Still, despite everything I musn't complain and look on the bright side. Things could be worse. I could have both legs in plaster or as my husband keeps on reminding me, I could have a really serious fracture which might have necessitated me being hospitalised with my foot held up on a sling with weights to counter balance it so as not to put any pressure on the broken limb. Yes, that is a sobering thought, there are always people who are in a far worse off situation.
If only I could figure out how to scratch the itchy area beneath the plaster. I have so far tried to reach it by using a shish kebab skewer but it is annoyingly not quite long enough.
P.S. My apologies for this rather boring blog post up-dating you on the condition of my left foot which will only be of interest to my close-friends and family. I shall endeavour to get back to writing about Tunisia which as a subject quite rightly has much broader appeal.