Last night whilst watching a film in which the protagonist recovers from a spinal injury with the help of a beautiful female physiotherapist whom he later mates with, I had an unexpected flow of tears down my face. In the film the protagonist recovers completely and can run easily. Reality often differs from films. These snaps from the seventeenth of October 2019 give a hint of my pre-covid world. I broke the head of my left femur into three and had a titanium alloy pin inserted under local anaesthetic with what felt like a road breaking jackhammer drill.
I never used the wheelchair; it went back with its plastic wrapping intact.
I had physiotherapy up until Christmas and then, not long after that was lock down. I went from one confinement pretty much straight into another. In retrospect I probably needed a lot more physiotherapy.
Unlike in the film, I am now partially crippled. I can walk but slowly and after a couple of kilometres I am very tired.
What I remember most, through a codeine haze was the pain and the frustration of not being able to lie on my side. Lying on my back for months was boring. I can now lie on my left side in a soft bed, but not on the grass as the pin protrudes out of the bone.
Back then, autumn 2019, I did not feel much self-pity, I do a little today. It is for me a strange feeling. I am even crying a little as I write.
I guess I may not have processed some of the emotions and feelings pertaining to the injury, the pain and the frustration of being bed-bound, unable to move. There are few scars around the house where my Zimmer frame collided with the doors and walls. Having a lot of upper body strength perhaps hindered my healing. I remember the elation of making it out to the greenhouse in the frame.
It does seem a little other worldly, but it is there just below this keyboard, the feeling in my left hip, the reminder of the pin. We have walked a little around “downtown” in our local town and it is a little sore.
I recall the fear the first time I went into a supermarket, all those people and me unable to get out of the way. Big hairy me, feeling so very fragile and vulnerable so dependent. Some of that fear remains. My balance in not good and step ladders are like a scary roller coaster ride.
Strange that, unexpected tears…