Back on my feet gingerly

You wouldn’t think it was much, spraining your ankle. I’ve had them before, once when I was a child and another later in my mid 20’s I can remember. But never anything like this one, never so debilitating! Thank goodness I was with my fella at the time I did it, slipping on wet autumn leaves,  as I was a whimpering wreck with the pain from it, he got me back in the car and drove home, me wincing at every tiny bump in the road surface. Even after I’d taken pain killers and we’d packed it with towels to protect it from jolts. When we eventually got home, I couldn’t even get in the house with his help holding me up, and had to crawl up the garden path and over the doorstep on my hands and knees. Suddenly living in a three storey house came with a myriad more problems, of how to get up them… crawling, one step at a time seemed the only answer. That, and pain killers.

The next day, dosed up with more pain killers I realised that the normal weekly things that I do quickly, with ease, and think nothing of, would have to wait. Forget washing clothes, that involved walking, and carrying things. Forget answering emails, that involved getting to the computer and sitting on a chair, when I couldn’t even walk. Crawling was the only mode of transport I could do around the house. Which soon meant that my knees became sore and the right one started to bleed even through jeans. A plaster was the only answer. Resting the foot and keeping it elevated was the only thing I could do. It helped, and looking at my swollen, bruised foot and shin I wondered if my foot would ever return to its natural size and colour again.

I spent five days sitting on the settee, inbetween the momentous logistics of getting to the loo, on another floor, shuffling on my bum for the down flights, and crawling back up (on tender knees) for the up flights. And getting to the loo still meant I couldn’t put my foot down on the ground, so I had to instigate a sort of hop, and hanging on with my hands to any available useful surface, wash basin, door frames, etc. I found the easiest way of cooking hot food was on the hob with a small frying pan. Going to the microwave three steps away was three steps I didn’t need to take. Kneeling on a kitchen chair to protect my foot, I cooked whatever was quick from the freezer whilst standing by the hob, and then sat there insitu to eat it, it saved having to move anywhere. Then, I could make a cup of tea, and get back on the floor to crawl back to the settee on all fours, moving a full cup of tea a few inches at a time to get there. My man, when he was with me, was wonderful, getting things for me, and immensely helpful and considerate as he always is. But he had things he had to do, so I was left on my own for times, knowing that if he had been with me there was nothing more he could do. All I could do, was rest.

I read a lot. I love reading, so to read is a big treat. And for some reason Agatha Christie books have been just what I was happy with. Her books are short, with few characters, but you have to pay close attention and read them in intense bursts to work out who is who, and what is happening, and who the murderer might be. I have yet to pre-decide who it is, even knowing that the one that is least likely is the murderer, still the identity of the murderer evades me! They have kept me fully entertained and occupied.

I’ve had the three people who are closest to me text and ring me regularly with good advice and concerns, which is wonderful. When I chatted to my sister and told her about my sprained ankle she said that when she did it a few years ago she was almost sick with the pain of it and had to ring for someone else to get her home as she couldn’t drive. My ex husband, when he called in after ringing beforehand and I had explained about my foot was sympathetic when I answered the door on my knees and joked that we would laugh about this at some future point.. not at the moment I told him as I crawled over to a chair!

And each day I’ve felt that my foot is slightly improved, but only slightly. I am astonished how long this has taken though, to get better.. and I’m writing this twelve days after I’ve done it, and its still not fully right, but I have done some ironing today which involved me standing up for ten minutes, and I’ve been to collect the dustbin from the end of my drive, which isn’t far but a massive distance if your ankle is still a bit weak. Also, I have been out in the car to do a short distance to my local post office, which would normally be an easy walk of five minutes, but I daren’t chance it at the moment, and I was relieved to find that driving isn’t a problem, and I was able to limp into the post office, get served and get out again without keeling over which obviously would put me back even more days in my recovery. I only went out to post a print that someone ordered from me a couple of weeks ago and I can’t deliver so the post will have to take it for me.

So, as for painting, of course I haven’t done any of that. Or much art related as for creating things. But I have had a couple of chats on email on the short bursts I have been able to get to a computer, to discuss ideas for erotic art with two different men who are not connected, who both want interesting paintings put together in the not too distance future.

And I have a lovely commission to do next week of a unicorn. I shall enjoy painting that. And by then my foot will be almost back to normal I think, even though I am taking things very steady.

Its really hit home though, at how much it has held me up doing all the things I want to do, normally do do, and plan to do…