When you leave the hospital they give you loads of bits of paper. On first arriving at home I dumped them at the front desk without reading them. It's the table by our front door.
The first night was painful. I could only lie on my back, and I never sleep on my back. Every now and then I tried a side position but was in too much pain. The worst thing about the pain was that whilst it hurt, it hurt even more to move. Knowing that a return to lying on my back would bring a little relief, I had to bite my lip and force myself to move through pain.
Then, at about 5am, came that little feeling when you realise you need a wee. It was dark, I lent over the edge of the bed and started fishing around for the potty. Much noise and grumbling and Katie woke up. Phase one, failed.
When I found the potty, I decided the best thing to do was to stand up, painful, hold potty with one hand, and lean against the wall while doing my business. And so we waited for it to start. I could hear Katie's breathing getting heavier as we both waited. Strangely, any attempt to push, sent shock waves down my leg. Eventually a trickle. I utilised the opening of hostilities to push. Agony in my leg, but flow got stronger.
Oh this is fun.
Not as much fun as trying to put a potty back on the floor, when you can't bend one of your legs. I just about managed to get it on the floor, spilling none, honest, I think, and slid it under the bed.
I fell back in to the bed, surrounded by the smell of wee and went to sleep.
The next day I had to go downstairs in the morning on my bum. I didn't feel strong enough to try the high-wire act that is going downstairs on crutches.
I positioned myself on the sofa, lots of sport, all day, and didn't move except for the occasional 10 10 10. If Mr Knee is reading this, I did it every hour, religiously. If he isn't, I probably did it three times during the day. The heel hanging, where you rest your heel on a chair, while sitting on another chair, and let gravity pull the knee down, was a new level of pain.
I managed a couple of walks around the ground floor. Up round the table, back to the back door, and back again. For about ten minutes. Every now and then my left foot hit the crutch and I nearly went flying.
This was my routine on Sunday too. My ice pack is a Sainsburys Basics Mixed Veg. Very good.
After just the weekend, the swelling had gone down noticeably. I couldn't straighten the leg fully but it wasn't a million miles off.
Just before Katie went to work on the Monday morning she found the papers at the front desk.
"What's all this?"
"No idea." She opened them to reveal a really handy list of exercises. She gave me a look, turned and left.
I was on the sofa, leg up, heel hanging, my office set up around me. Ok, can I get through a day's work?
The first night was painful. I could only lie on my back, and I never sleep on my back. Every now and then I tried a side position but was in too much pain. The worst thing about the pain was that whilst it hurt, it hurt even more to move. Knowing that a return to lying on my back would bring a little relief, I had to bite my lip and force myself to move through pain.
Then, at about 5am, came that little feeling when you realise you need a wee. It was dark, I lent over the edge of the bed and started fishing around for the potty. Much noise and grumbling and Katie woke up. Phase one, failed.
When I found the potty, I decided the best thing to do was to stand up, painful, hold potty with one hand, and lean against the wall while doing my business. And so we waited for it to start. I could hear Katie's breathing getting heavier as we both waited. Strangely, any attempt to push, sent shock waves down my leg. Eventually a trickle. I utilised the opening of hostilities to push. Agony in my leg, but flow got stronger.
Oh this is fun.
Not as much fun as trying to put a potty back on the floor, when you can't bend one of your legs. I just about managed to get it on the floor, spilling none, honest, I think, and slid it under the bed.
I fell back in to the bed, surrounded by the smell of wee and went to sleep.
The next day I had to go downstairs in the morning on my bum. I didn't feel strong enough to try the high-wire act that is going downstairs on crutches.
I positioned myself on the sofa, lots of sport, all day, and didn't move except for the occasional 10 10 10. If Mr Knee is reading this, I did it every hour, religiously. If he isn't, I probably did it three times during the day. The heel hanging, where you rest your heel on a chair, while sitting on another chair, and let gravity pull the knee down, was a new level of pain.
I managed a couple of walks around the ground floor. Up round the table, back to the back door, and back again. For about ten minutes. Every now and then my left foot hit the crutch and I nearly went flying.
This was my routine on Sunday too. My ice pack is a Sainsburys Basics Mixed Veg. Very good.
After just the weekend, the swelling had gone down noticeably. I couldn't straighten the leg fully but it wasn't a million miles off.
Just before Katie went to work on the Monday morning she found the papers at the front desk.
"What's all this?"
"No idea." She opened them to reveal a really handy list of exercises. She gave me a look, turned and left.
I was on the sofa, leg up, heel hanging, my office set up around me. Ok, can I get through a day's work?
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