Cambridge - again!

Well, at the end of the last post I  said that my walking came to halt just before reaching the Red Lion Hotel.  In fact since that time I have only hopped, and only in the last two days!  Why?  Well....

This is long and tedious, with only a couple of photos, so don't feel compelled to read it.  I am trying to make it brief, but I know some people want the detail. 

Last Saturday evening, a week ago, as I walked down the path on the side of the road, to the hotel, my feet went from under me.  I had slipped on a frozen puddle, which in a momentary lapse of concentration I failed to see.  My momentum, and the weight of my pack flipped me over like a turtle, but in the process my right arm and leg got stuck, while I continued to move.  The result? A broken wrist, and a broken ankle! 

A passing dog walker stopped to offer help by carrying my pack, but I had a better idea when I saw someone get into a car opposite.   I asked him to ask them if they would drive me to the hotel.  The young lass, who had only just got her licence, was nervous and called on her mum for help.  Mum wanted to know if I needed an ambulance, but I said the ride would be the most help,  as it turned out, a wise move. 

I was able to walk, without too much discomfort, and when Brett, the manager, heard what had happened he immediately upgraded me.  He took my pack upstairs for me and I slowly followed. My arm was sore, so one handed, I pulled everything out of my bag, making a dreadful mess,  looking for my insulated trousers, at the bottom of the bag!  These were the only trousers I had that unzipped to the knee, and would therefore easily go over my now very swollen ankle.

After a shower, as it turned out the last for a week, I went back downstairs where I was cosseted with some toast, ice for foot and wrist, and even ibuprofen, which a bar patron had gone home especially to get for me.  The hotel staff were concerned and rang 111 - and NHS helpline.   After answering numerous questions the nurse at the end of the line said I should get medical help within 4 hours, and an appointment was made at the hospital - in a sort of side A&E.   X rays subsequently showed a broken wrist and a broken fibula in my ankle.  

The wrist was treated first, first with a local anaesthetic then with three doctors performing traction for 5 minutes before setting it into a plaster cast.  More X Rays to confirm things were OK.  Then it was the orthopaedic surgeon's turn to tackle the ankle.  Again, traction, then a plaster cast, and more X rays.  The thinking was that my wrist would not need surgery,  but my foot would, once the swelling had subsided.   My singer's breathing came in useful as I took deep breaths of the gas in both instances - like childbirth!

I have now had the surgery and everyone is pleased with the result.  A plate has been screwed in, and will remain, the thinking being that it is better to have only one lot of surgery unless needed.  I cannot weight bear on my wrist or my ankle for six weeks, so the physio has me on a special elbow height walking frame.  They are wanting to get me on special crutches.  

I am in the hospital, on the edge of Cambridge, that had taken me over 30 mins to walk towards, and past, last Saturday morning.   It is Saturday morning again, a week later, and I am in that hospital, having had surgery, been treated with kindness by so many, and "walking" independantly, without having to call for a nurse each time. 

I get delight in seeing the reactions of the doctors and nurses when I say that I had just walked 19.5 kilometres from Cambridge to Whittlesford.  They pause in their writing or typing not quite sure what to make of it but then, when I add "on my way from John o Groats" they get halted in their tracks.  They can't believe that I'm doing it, and except for a few friends dropping in, alone.  Intelligent, fit, women tell me they would be too scared to do it.

People have been incredibly kind.  Brett the hotel manager has visited, and last night two of the A&E doctors came up to pay a social call.  They knew I had no-one in the UK and so came to say hi.  That is going above and beyond the duties of both and I really appreciate it.  

I need some different clothes for when I am discharged and on Monday one of the OT team will take me downstairs to do some shopping.   Once I know where and when I will be discharged to (I'm thinking a Travelodge) I will then order some more things on line.  At present I am using hospital gowns.  I was thinking of buying some, but then thinking about it, I have no-one to take washing home, so hospital gowns it is!

When asked by people if I would be coming home Emrys responded, from the beginning, with an "I doubt it"!  I'm glad he understands  - and yes, of course I'm not coming home!

It is disappointing that the walking has, temporarily, stopped, but it is what it is and for the 2 - 3 months it will be a  different journey.   When I was a child I learnt a song in Sunday School called "Count Your Blessings".  That is what I do now,  and have always done:  

• the accident happened in a place where I have ended up in the best teaching trauma hospital in the country. 

• I could have called an ambulance but instead went to the hotel where I was cared for pre and post hospital admission 

• The injuries could have been far worse - these will heal, with only slight repercussions. 

• I could have been immobile for the duration.

• I have freedom, and support, though minimal activity.

Yes, I'm injured, but I am optimistic (could you imagine me anything else?).  Yes, I will probably be sick of reading and watching TV, but then think how nice it will be after that time!  

I will keep you posted, but they will be brief, and no doubt boring.  I am meeting Carol in Madrid on March 9th.  We were going walking, she is instant that all we will do is sit and eat Tapas and she will have an occasional wine.  So hopefully the posts will sparkle up then!