One of our brothers has fallen...
Discussion
Mr Ted said:
Don't worry it's not that your fitness has deserted you it's your body using all it's resources to fix the broken bits, get well soon and ,as I am sure your wife has already told you; do what you're told!!!
I hope you're right about the fitness thing. I'm just feeling absolutely knackered at the slightest of efforts at the moment. Even standing on one leg for ten minutes had me fit to faint last night. I was trying to do the veg prep for our Fajita meal before my wife got home, but in the end she walked in before I was half-way through, and I ended up sat in a chair to finish it off.Regarding the "doing as I'm told"? My wife is a radiology specialist nurse, with 30 years experience. She is constantly correcting me. I worry that things aren't progressing in my recovery, she tells me that I'm a whinging hypochondriac and she has better things to do than "come quick - my toes look a bit black". I think she's loving it, really, as she can't talk to 'proper' patients like this.
My current worry (apart from purple toes) is that although I can "clench" my toes downwards, when I try to "lift" them up, all I get is the sensation of "something happening" around the operation site (feels like tendons, etc, moving) but there is no upward movement of the toes.
I'm trying to stay off the meds today, too. A friend is coming around tonight to drag me off to a pub, so I'm hoping I can risk at least a half before I get back on the meds at bedtime. I'm off to Google the pills and jabs I'm taking to see if that's a good idea...
Hmmm.
Well I'm still here, after a properly sh**ty weekend. Saturday night/Sunday morning was my lowest ebb in a long time. Confidence and any last trace of optimism deserted me, to the point where I was reduced to shuffling up and down stairs on my backside, convinced that if I tried to do it standing up I'd take a dive.
Not even a pep-talk from my wife, and 6 England goals could raise a cheer. Feeling slightly better now, but still low. And without over-sharing, let's just say my guts are playing me up now, meaning many and frequent trips up and down the stairs, some of them quite urgent.
I keep trying to see the bright side of there being "only two more weeks" in this cast now, but the doctors weren't all that positive when they offered the carrot of "we might get you in a weight bearing boot next time", so that's not even a given.
Good news? I'm on the last four 'Fragmin' (Dalteparin) injections...
Bad news? I'm out of Tramadol. This, I must admit, isn't entirely bad, from a dependency point of view. It does, however, mean my pain is no longer fully managed, as all I have in it's stead is paracetamol. Given my last rushed consultation, and lack of any real attempt to review my medication, I'm left with the option of wasting my GP's time looking for "something stronger", but I'm reluctant to phone (anxiety strikes!) so I'm just "muddling through" for now.
The fact I'm still in pain (not all the time, it's a lot worse at the start and end of the day when I'm tired) worries me, along with this inability to "lift" my toes. All in all it's not making much room in my life for an optimistic outlook. And sadly I'm all out of 'Man The F**k Up' - I've been through all the cupboards twice looking for some...
Well I'm still here, after a properly sh**ty weekend. Saturday night/Sunday morning was my lowest ebb in a long time. Confidence and any last trace of optimism deserted me, to the point where I was reduced to shuffling up and down stairs on my backside, convinced that if I tried to do it standing up I'd take a dive.
Not even a pep-talk from my wife, and 6 England goals could raise a cheer. Feeling slightly better now, but still low. And without over-sharing, let's just say my guts are playing me up now, meaning many and frequent trips up and down the stairs, some of them quite urgent.
I keep trying to see the bright side of there being "only two more weeks" in this cast now, but the doctors weren't all that positive when they offered the carrot of "we might get you in a weight bearing boot next time", so that's not even a given.
Good news? I'm on the last four 'Fragmin' (Dalteparin) injections...
Wikepedia said:
Like other low molecular weight heparins, dalteparin is used for prophylaxis or treatment of deep vein thrombosis and pulmonary embolism.
...which means my fat belly will no longer resemble a pin-cushion.Bad news? I'm out of Tramadol. This, I must admit, isn't entirely bad, from a dependency point of view. It does, however, mean my pain is no longer fully managed, as all I have in it's stead is paracetamol. Given my last rushed consultation, and lack of any real attempt to review my medication, I'm left with the option of wasting my GP's time looking for "something stronger", but I'm reluctant to phone (anxiety strikes!) so I'm just "muddling through" for now.
The fact I'm still in pain (not all the time, it's a lot worse at the start and end of the day when I'm tired) worries me, along with this inability to "lift" my toes. All in all it's not making much room in my life for an optimistic outlook. And sadly I'm all out of 'Man The F**k Up' - I've been through all the cupboards twice looking for some...
WinstonWolf said:
If you mean your toes aren't working that should be looked at as it *could be nerve compression. I had it from a Thomas Splint, took me a couple of years to get the use of my toes back.
I do mean that. They bend downward OK, and return to the "neutral" position, but no amount of effort seems to be able to recruit the muscles/tendons needed to lift the buggering things skywards. My wife is at work, and promised to see if she could shake a tame Orthopod out of his tree today to ask about it, so I'll wait until she gets home before I start making panicked phone calls...
Chin up YJ, it's easy to focus on the negatives, I've been there.
When I broke my neck of femur, those were the darkest days of my life. I was non-weight bearing for 6 weeks, shuffling around the house on crutches, injecting myself at night with the same anti-clotting jab, hardly sleeping and bordering on, if not depressed. I was in and out of hospital every few weeks for x-rays to check if the head of my femur was dying off. I was so caught up in my own misery.
It really took some effort to shake it out of me, I had to focus on the positives, we had a bouncing baby boy (2 weeks old at time of accident!) and I was getting to spend all that extra time with him, my wife and family were brilliant.
At the 6 week point I was given the nod to start weight bearing and learning how to walk again, my thigh was some 3 inches smaller in diameter than my good leg, glutes a flabby blob and a growing belly. The physio's were also brilliant, 2 weeks post op I was under NHS cover doing light work with an appointment every week. As I was allowed to weight bear they stepped things up and started pushing me, yes it was exhausting and frustrating but I was determined to beat it.
It sounds like your wife is both knowledgeable and supportive, that's a massive help, try and focus on some positives and use them to keep you going / spur you on.
Also, use this thread to vent as and when you need!
When I broke my neck of femur, those were the darkest days of my life. I was non-weight bearing for 6 weeks, shuffling around the house on crutches, injecting myself at night with the same anti-clotting jab, hardly sleeping and bordering on, if not depressed. I was in and out of hospital every few weeks for x-rays to check if the head of my femur was dying off. I was so caught up in my own misery.
It really took some effort to shake it out of me, I had to focus on the positives, we had a bouncing baby boy (2 weeks old at time of accident!) and I was getting to spend all that extra time with him, my wife and family were brilliant.
At the 6 week point I was given the nod to start weight bearing and learning how to walk again, my thigh was some 3 inches smaller in diameter than my good leg, glutes a flabby blob and a growing belly. The physio's were also brilliant, 2 weeks post op I was under NHS cover doing light work with an appointment every week. As I was allowed to weight bear they stepped things up and started pushing me, yes it was exhausting and frustrating but I was determined to beat it.
It sounds like your wife is both knowledgeable and supportive, that's a massive help, try and focus on some positives and use them to keep you going / spur you on.
Also, use this thread to vent as and when you need!
Matt_N said:
Chin up YJ, it's easy to focus on the negatives, I've been there.
When I broke my neck of femur, those were the darkest days of my life. I was non-weight bearing for 6 weeks, shuffling around the house on crutches, injecting myself at night with the same anti-clotting jab, hardly sleeping and bordering on, if not depressed. I was in and out of hospital every few weeks for x-rays to check if the head of my femur was dying off. I was so caught up in my own misery.
It really took some effort to shake it out of me, I had to focus on the positives, we had a bouncing baby boy (2 weeks old at time of accident!) and I was getting to spend all that extra time with him, my wife and family were brilliant.
At the 6 week point I was given the nod to start weight bearing and learning how to walk again, my thigh was some 3 inches smaller in diameter than my good leg, glutes a flabby blob and a growing belly. The physio's were also brilliant, 2 weeks post op I was under NHS cover doing light work with an appointment every week. As I was allowed to weight bear they stepped things up and started pushing me, yes it was exhausting and frustrating but I was determined to beat it.
It sounds like your wife is both knowledgeable and supportive, that's a massive help, try and focus on some positives and use them to keep you going / spur you on.
Also, use this thread to vent as and when you need!
Thanks Matt!When I broke my neck of femur, those were the darkest days of my life. I was non-weight bearing for 6 weeks, shuffling around the house on crutches, injecting myself at night with the same anti-clotting jab, hardly sleeping and bordering on, if not depressed. I was in and out of hospital every few weeks for x-rays to check if the head of my femur was dying off. I was so caught up in my own misery.
It really took some effort to shake it out of me, I had to focus on the positives, we had a bouncing baby boy (2 weeks old at time of accident!) and I was getting to spend all that extra time with him, my wife and family were brilliant.
At the 6 week point I was given the nod to start weight bearing and learning how to walk again, my thigh was some 3 inches smaller in diameter than my good leg, glutes a flabby blob and a growing belly. The physio's were also brilliant, 2 weeks post op I was under NHS cover doing light work with an appointment every week. As I was allowed to weight bear they stepped things up and started pushing me, yes it was exhausting and frustrating but I was determined to beat it.
It sounds like your wife is both knowledgeable and supportive, that's a massive help, try and focus on some positives and use them to keep you going / spur you on.
Also, use this thread to vent as and when you need!
Sorry to hear about your break, but sounds like it all got back together again in the end?
Things a bit more optimistic yesterday/today. Not much, but "every little helps". Depression/anxiety are an ongoing thing for me. I've got a telephone appointment with a therapist at Help 4 Heroes tomorrow morning as it happens. I was about to embark on a course of treatment at Tedworth House before this break happened but that's been put back now "until I'm ready to start". They're keeping in touch every two weeks though, which helps.
My wife has been just outstanding the whole way through. We had a big argument this weekend, but I can't blame her for that. She's exhausted really, what with working as normal, manning the on-call rota, and the extra burden of caring for me on top, and my low mood just caused her to "bite back" a bit.
I tried to hobble up the road to meet her from the bus on the way home last night. She'd had to get off a stop or two earlier to pop into a shop for a few essentials, and I thought I'd "walk" down to meet her. It was "only a mile" after all. Well, I managed a little under half way there, but she wasn't on the bus as she decided to cycle back from work (she's got a horrible MTB 'thing' and has just started riding it again, in one day, home the next, buses in between rides).
The "hobble" up to the bus stop on the main road was terrible. I could hardly breathe, I had cramp in my injured leg above the cast from holding it up off the ground, and my hands were horribly sweaty and red raw by the time I got home again. My wife had continued on by bike to get food started while I slowly hobbled back again. Luckily there were no actual blisters.
I'm so frustrated by lack of mobility right now. Everything is a huge effort, and seemingly simple tasks require daft amounts of additional planning. The most worrying thing is the problem with my hands on the crutches right now, but I've found half a pack of bar tape (black on red 'paint splatter' design) that was left over when my youngest son wrapped his bow handle (he's an archer). I'm going to try wrapping the handles of the crutches, because when I tried bike mitts, they seemed to make the problem of pressure points on my palms worse, not better...
I was getting on for six months non weight-bearing, had to wear an external caliper for a couple of years (sexy). It took about five years to walk without a significant limp and one of my legs is still 2" shorter. That was thirty odd years ago, I can cycle 100 miles again now.
Recovery sucks but you'll get there it just takes time. Lots of time
Recovery sucks but you'll get there it just takes time. Lots of time
WinstonWolf said:
I was getting on for six months non weight-bearing, had to wear an external caliper for a couple of years (sexy). It took about five years to walk without a significant limp and one of my legs is still 2" shorter. That was thirty odd years ago, I can cycle 100 miles again now.
Recovery sucks but you'll get there it just takes time. Lots of time
Aye. Plenty of practice with recovery and rehab. 18 months with fractured C6 & C7 vertebrae. 5 months with a broken Scapula. 3 months off with soft tissue damage (other shoulder) from playing Hockey. Plenty more minor ailments and injuries sorted by physios during my 25 years in the army. But good physio on a really regular basis is more difficult to come by through the NHS than it was through the MOD, which worries me somewhat. I'm not getting any younger, either.Recovery sucks but you'll get there it just takes time. Lots of time
Maybe it's time to slow down? I thought about that, but the idea didn't really appeal. Besides which, in the absence of a handy bungalow in which to live, I could have fallen down the stairs anytime really. Sometimes s
t just happens...WinstonWolf said:
You don't stop exercising because you get old, you get old because you stop exercising 
That reminds me of two positives I can take from this experience...
1. I hated the Dalteparin injections going into my belly. I wanted the nurses to jab me elsewhere. The upper part of my arm? Nope. My thigh? Nope. My buttock? Nope. Reason? "I'm afraid there just isn't enough fatty tissue in any of those places... Yes! [punches the air]
2. On meeting my neighbour's son outside the hospital and getting the offer of a lift home, he said something along the lines of "I'd make a joke about your age, but we're about the same age". He's 30. I'm only a year younger than his mum!
The way I look at bad injuries is that Id rather suffer than my kids or family
I also think when you suffer bad times, it makes you appreciate the good times.
I was going to write a long post of some bad times I suffered and how it was all good in the end, but I dont want to bore everyone!!
Im hoping you are a football fan YJ and are enjoying the World Cup, but I have a feeling you aren't a football fan (im not)
I also think when you suffer bad times, it makes you appreciate the good times.
I was going to write a long post of some bad times I suffered and how it was all good in the end, but I dont want to bore everyone!!
Im hoping you are a football fan YJ and are enjoying the World Cup, but I have a feeling you aren't a football fan (im not)
idiotgap said:
Sounds familiar, I too am slightly bionic.
Wow!I think you've beaten my tale of woe, hands down. Way more screws than I've got. Only three for me, further up the Tibia. The lower part of the plate is "wrapped" around the distal end of the bone, keeping a couple of large splinters pulled in to heal.
Question for those who have/had plates to repair breaks. Do the medics ever take them out? I only ask because 'the internet' suggests it's unlikely that plates/screws get removed, while the team at the hospital mentioned removing this one. I'm back there in a week anyway, so I'll get it "straight from the horses mouth" for my specific circumstances. Just curious as to whether anyone had had a repair plate removed after bones had healed?
TwistingMyMelon said:
...Im hoping you are a football fan YJ and are enjoying the World Cup, but I have a feeling you aren't a football fan (im not)
Cheers, TMM.As it happens, I am a footy fan. Although one or two of the matches I've seen in this World Cup (and I've seen a minimum of 20 minutes of EVERY game so far this tournament!) make me long for my days as a season ticket holder at non-league Farnborough FC...
Apart from daddy cool auditioning for a posting ban ( language, Timothy! 
), there's some more good news!
The Fragmin (Dalteparin) injections have come to an end. Fully 38 days of getting a needle jabbed into my (increasingly) flabby tum are over. The sharps bin can go back, and the (super-sexy) surgical stocking no longer needs to be slid seductively over my uninjured lower leg (although I might continue that part of the treatment with a longer, lower denier pair when this cast comes off...
I'm managing pain relief with two or three daily doses of Paracetamol now, way down from what I was taking, and only needed to get a comfortable night's sleep, rather than all the time.
My youngest son is back from uni, having managed to cart a load of his gear across town to his new house for next term without resorting to 'Dad's Taxi'. Initial reaction was that this was a good thing. However, I realise that I am now completely redundant in the lives of all of my family. No one has failed to manage without me and the car thus far, apart from my wife cancelling a trip to a history festival because of the rail timetable nonsense.
My wife is now trying to persuade me to go up to Reading with her and my son tomorrow. Idea being i stay at a hotel in the city watching footy and chomping on room service burgers all day Sunday, while they head off to a music festival in London. Not sure if I'm going just yet though, as I don't fancy hobbling about a busy city centre on crutches in a heatwave. That, plus the restaurant she's chosen for dinner on Saturday evening is a long old hobble across town...
), there's some more good news!The Fragmin (Dalteparin) injections have come to an end. Fully 38 days of getting a needle jabbed into my (increasingly) flabby tum are over. The sharps bin can go back, and the (super-sexy) surgical stocking no longer needs to be slid seductively over my uninjured lower leg (although I might continue that part of the treatment with a longer, lower denier pair when this cast comes off...
I'm managing pain relief with two or three daily doses of Paracetamol now, way down from what I was taking, and only needed to get a comfortable night's sleep, rather than all the time.
My youngest son is back from uni, having managed to cart a load of his gear across town to his new house for next term without resorting to 'Dad's Taxi'. Initial reaction was that this was a good thing. However, I realise that I am now completely redundant in the lives of all of my family. No one has failed to manage without me and the car thus far, apart from my wife cancelling a trip to a history festival because of the rail timetable nonsense.
My wife is now trying to persuade me to go up to Reading with her and my son tomorrow. Idea being i stay at a hotel in the city watching footy and chomping on room service burgers all day Sunday, while they head off to a music festival in London. Not sure if I'm going just yet though, as I don't fancy hobbling about a busy city centre on crutches in a heatwave. That, plus the restaurant she's chosen for dinner on Saturday evening is a long old hobble across town...
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