I’m running out of grandiose metaphors to describe my progress and journey back to fitness. Lazarus – tick. Phoenix from the flames – tick. Nelson Mandela – tick. So I am reduced to using Eddie Murphy in the film ‘Trading Places’.
Since first using the G-Trainer four weeks ago, the progress has been amazing. I gradually increased my bodyweight and combined with a punishing series of daily stretches and exercises, the improvement in flexibility and strength has been rapid. Two weeks ago, the Aircast boot was removed for good as I returned to work, and replaced with an Aircast stirrup (I’m expecting a Christmas card from Aircast Corp.) which is essentially a structured ankle brace that can be worn with shoes, and prevents my ankle from rolling over e.g. falling off a kerb, on the tube or breakdancing at a party.
Normally, the removal of the boot would mean a return to crutches but despite being tentative and a little nervous at first, I was able to walk unaided and barefoot at my first attempt (under physio supervision of course) – it was a fantastic feeling. It was at that point that I suddenly felt like Eddie Murphy’s ‘Agent Orange’ in Trading Places: “I can see! It’s a miracle!....I...I have legs…I can walk! Praise Jesus, praise Jesus!”
For my first 2 days back at work I wore the boot to commute to the office, then removed it altogether. Now, less than 2 weeks later, I am walking without any limp. My stride feels normal and not at all restricted. When no-one is looking, I sometimes do a little moonwalk across the carpet followed by a chimney sweep kick, and double-barrelled pistol shot in sheer glee at my mobility (I don’t really, but I feel like doing it).
There was however, a brief period of panic where for three or four days I was experiencing immense and sharp pain on the inside of my ankle – this was where the scan had showed additional ligament damage that the surgeon hoped would self heal through being immobilised. The alternative he said, would be keyhole surgery. I immediately feared the worst, picturing myself having to go through another bout of surgery once the lateral work had healed, this time succumbing to booze during my time off, growing a greasy beard, quitting my job and becoming a rambling alcoholic in my Brixton local: “I yooshed to
The surgeon was also very pleased with my progress, describing me as well ahead of schedule. I have no doubt that this has largely been due to the intensive physio and the use of the G-Trainer which meant I was walking well before my Aircast was due to come off for good. I was amazed when Regan told me that most insurance companies don’t recognise it as a rehabilitative tool and won’t cover the cost of using it.
Slowly but surely, muscle tissue is returning to my legs and particularly to my left calf. Whereas four weeks ago I had the hairless leg of a young boy, I now have the hirsute leg of a skinny teenager. Progress.
A by-product of the daily exercises for my ankle and legs has been considerable soreness and tightness in my foot and calf. The solution to this was a deep tissue massage by Regan which almost brought me to tears. The only way to adequately describe the sensation was that it was as if each muscle fibre was being crushed into my shin bone, which itself was covered in small metal thorns. The extreme wincing and pained expression on my face went unnoticed (I think) and the alpha-male in me insisted on forcing out “Yes... I’m fine” through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, whenever I was asked if I was ok. Imagine Alan Partridge trying to carry something that’s far too heavy for him, with a hernia, and being asked if he was ok – that was me.
I did have to attend my friends Dave & Laura’s wedding still wearing my ‘space boot’ (or Robo Stump as Jon R. calls it), but felt unencumbered by it after a few, ahem, social lubricants, and had a fantastic time. Next up, my brother’s wedding in Yorkshire this weekend, followed by Stevo’s stag do in Barcelona next weekend. I think I might keep the stirrup on for now.
And finally, my surgeon sent through a photo of my ankle mid-operation, which gives me a ghoulish sense of pleasure. Not in an erotic way, you understand, just as a reminder of how far I’ve come on the long road back to fitness. Opinion has been divided, with some people (mostly men) describing it as “cool”, “mad” and “mental” and some people (mostly women) describing it “sick” and “disgusting” and me as “weird”. There’s also some consternation at the complete absence of blood, with suggestions that I might be extra-terrestrial. Make your own mind up (and check out the split in the middle of the tendon):
For reference – my current rehab exercises:
Daily
1. Balance on left leg on uneven surface, rotating right leg: 5 x 20 secs
2. Calf raises, 70% of weight on left leg: 3 x 20 reps
3. Two leg squats: 3 x 20 reps
4. Calf stretch – leg straight: 3 x 30 secs
5. Calf stretch – right leg bent: 3 x 30 secs
6. Theraband stretch – inverse: 3 x 12 reps
7. Theraband stretch – lateral: 3 x 12 reps
2/3 times a week:
1. Thigh stretches: 6 x 15 secs per leg
2. Hamstring curls with ball: 3 x 15 reps
3. Leg press: 3 x 12 per leg, ~50kg
4. Bike: 20 mins at ~130 bpm
Stats & highlights:
Days back at work: 10
Current reading – Provided You Don’t Kiss Me: 20 Years With Brian Clough
Music: This Charming Man (The Smiths)
Reasons to be cheerful: 3
