A Big Night Out

I've lived in London for 25 years and I have always felt safe and confident. Until last night.

Suddenly, going on the tube, and around Piccadilly Circus, on crutches I felt vulnerable. It's difficult to explain but it had something to do with everyone else moving so fast. I was constantly on my guard, trying to look all around for potential hazards.

Getting off the tube, I hobbled to the wall on the platform, and got my bearings. Thousands of people were rushing past without a care in the world and without any regard for the fact that they were almost knocking me over. My knee was under attack from all sides.

I made my way up the stairs. Slowly. Everyone was hurtling past. I got on to the escalator, slowly. The other folk were zooming along. As I approached the top I got a bit scared. I was confident I could get off, but I was worried that the people behind would not realise that I was slower than them and that they would therefore walk in to the back of me. I looked round at a packed escalator. As the top neared, I raised my crutches, saying to the world "I'm on crutches, prepare to go slow." I hopped a little way to get clear and then moved to the side. The rest of the world flew past, some tutting that I had slowed the flow by a nano second.

I was heading for the press night of One Man Two Guvnors. One of my actors is in the ensemble. He's got a few bits of nice business. I hadn't seen the play in it's original James Corden version, had heard good things, and was looking forward to it.

I'd managed to get a seat on the aisle - good - room to stretch.

I'd managed to get a seat on the aisle - bad - I was first on my row so had to keep getting up.

The play was very funny, my chap, did what he had to very well, and afterwards we shared a glass of wine. The celebs were out in force and I happened to be standing just behind where all the pictures were taken so if you see any of these in the press, I'm the slightly surly bloke at the back, on crutches.

The night was ruined by my brother's text service. Everton were away at Liverpool. Moyes put out a weak team, saving himself for the weekend FA Cup quarter final. I agree with this but it was still annoying at the interval to read four texts describing our descent into ignominy.

Katie said she'd pick me up from the tube so I didn't have to crutch it back. She managed to stay up till nearly midnight - unheard of - and was waiting at the tube as I emerged. She was quite perky although Pithy Elbow was there and wiggled something disapproving about the lateness of the hour.

The knee survived the big night out and with Katie still awake, she and I watched, as the knee went through the bed time ritual of photo and exercises. No major pain, more movement, no damage done. Home safe and sound, phew.

I think I may be developing agoraphobia.

Gym'll Fix It

With my first visit to the ACL class just under two weeks away I thought it would be useful to check out the local gym. The plan being that once I'd learned some new exercises I could do them regularly just around the corner.

The gym is only a five minute walk, even on crutches, so I set off yesterday to check it out.

There's a pool, a sauna, a sports hall and a gym.

I approached the reception desk. For some reason it is screened off by a six inch thick glass screen, meaning that the parties on either side need to shout to be heard.

"Have you got a leaflet about the gym costs?"

"We're a green company, so we don't print leaflets. I can answer your questions." She was from South Africa. The SA accent is a little grating in normal conversation but shouted I find it rather off putting but I persevered.

"How much is it to join the gym?"

"If you want to just pay and play it is £5.40 a day, but you can also get membership which is £25 a month."

"Hmmm, ok." I turned to leave, I already had a headache and couldn't bear to ask another question.

She continued, the sound of her voice making fingernails on a chalk board seem like soothing lounge music. "Whichever you choose there is a compulsory induction session."

I turned back, intrigued. "What's that?"

"We show you how to use all the machines. It's part of our comprehensive Health and Safety programme."

"How much does it cost?"

"£21.05."

"£21.05?"

"Yes."

"What if I just want to use the bikes?"

"You still need the induction."

"How do I book the pay and play?"

"You have to do that online."

I left. At home I went online and tried to see how I could book a pay and play session. I couldn't. I tried ringing the gym with no luck, then rang head office.

"You need to book that at the gym."

"They said I had to book it online."

"No that's wrong. Go back and tell them that head office said they should book it there."

"What about this induction thing. It seems a bit ridiculous if I just want to use the bikes."

"You can chose not to have the induction."

"They said it was compulsory."

"It's not."

"Thanks. I feel great about this whole process. Your company is making getting fit so easy. It's started already. I haven't joined yet and already I feel fitter, just walking back and forwards to the gym. Cheers."

"It's a pleasure. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Print some leaflets so I don't have to talk to anyone."

"We don't print leaflets, we're a green company."

"What about the six inch thick glass? How green is that?"

"I don't understand your question."

"I don't understand anything about the way you run your business."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't think you are." I put the phone down and went for a nap.

A Month

Friday 9th March marked the four week anniversary of the operation. For new readers here is a very quick recap...

Sunday 24th July 2011 - I was attacked on the football pitch. An attack which resulted in my anterior cruciate ligament and meniscus both being torn.

After various further partial recoveries and collapses and non diagnoses...

Tuesday 24th January 2012 - Mr Knee, the surgeon gave the thumbs up to say it should be operated on.

Friday 10th February 2012 - Operation.

Saturday 10th November 2012 - Play my first XI a side football match - ok I'm looking into the future but that is what I am aiming for.

So on the four week anniversary I had another physio session. Clodagh doesn't work on Friday and so I am passed on to Minnie. Clodagh has filled her in on the state of play and what we are aiming for.

I followed her into a curtained cubicle.

"Have you got some shorts?"

"No. Just boxers."

"Oh, okay. Trousers, shoes and socks off. I'll be back."

I started wondering why she thought I should have shorts and started worrying that we were going for a run.

She returned and I lay on the bed. She had the departmental protractor for measuring my degrees of bend and straightening. The bend was now up to 100, good, the straighten was still not managing to hyper extend but was a little better than last time.

She decided that a lot of the problem was down to stiffness and so began massaging the 'fat pads' around the knee and flexing together the bones around the area. I didn't even know I had fat pads. Every day you learn something new. It all hurt quite a lot but after much pushing and shoving I tried the straightening again and was able to push the knee down on to the bed a little further.

She then disappeared and returned with some steps.

"Ok, we need to get you doing some more exercises. Have you got any steps at home?"

"Just their first album." Nothing. "Sorry. Are stairs ok?"

"Yes, they'll do."

She then proceeded to show me various nifty moves which a healthy knee can do with no problem but which looked impossible with my knee. On my printed pamphlet of exercises she ticked the ones I should be doing. I mentally unticked half of them as they looked incredibly painful.

"Ok?"

"Erm, I'll try."

"I think you can move up into the ACL class now."

"The what?"

"It's like a gym class but everyone has had an ACL operation. You do circuit training for an hour."

It sounded like fun but I was a little disappointed to discover that, in effect, once you're ready for the ACL class, you stop having the one to ones. Minnie was very good at pushing me to bend a bit further. I liked her encouraging tone and felt a little guilty that I preferred her to Clodagh. But it didn't matter because now I was moving up to the ACL class and both were history. They would both become simply another staging post on my road to recovery. At each point you are pushed into something new, it's hard, you master it, and move on.

I'm now past the 10% point on the R to R. I just have to do what I've already done 9 times more and then I'll be back. 10% seems small, but it is psychologically a big marker. The funny thing is I seem to have some good days and some bad days, sometimes on the same day. At the end of the Minnie session I felt I could probably run home, then a few minutes later at the bus stop I felt like I couldn't go another inch.

There was a film once where Robert de Niro was a bus driver. He prided himself that he never pulled off until everyone was in their seat and I now think this is part of a driver's training. I got on the bus and was heading to my seat, feeling not bad, and then the driver pulled off before I was at my seat. I went flying, fortunately I managed to hop and land on my good leg but I think I may have called the driver something bad beginning with c and ending in unt. I'm sorry to him, but if you are a bus driver reading this, please, at the very least, always let crutched passengers get to their seats before pulling off.

Hyperextension is Vital

Since I'd last seen Clodagh, the hospital appointed physio, I had had two hydro physio sessions but other than that had been left to my own devices. She had, on our first session together set me a target for the knee.

"You need to be able to fully extend it, and bend it 90 degrees." Should be simple. Sit up in your chair now and put your foot flat on the floor. Well done, that's part two, now straighten it, don't kick your desk. Easy. You'll notice that you can actually hyper extend it so that not only does it go straight, it bends upwards. That is was I am trying to achieve.

On the morning of the visit, I couldn't quite do the 90 degrees. I reckoned about 85. As for the straight it just wouldn't go. If straight is 180 degrees, I could only manage about 170. Part of the problem is that because they have used some my hamstring for the new cruciate, I don't have the muscles there to do it. My thigh and hamstrings have gone all saggy. You can bend your leg because your hamstring tightens and your thigh muscle relaxes. My hamstring won't tighten enough. You can hyper extend because of the opposite actions. I can't do that either.

So I spent the whole journey dreading Clodagh telling me off. I felt like a school kid who had not done his homework, even though I had tried really hard. The other problem was that the swelling still hadn't gone down. I'd had more ice on it than the arctic circle and yet it was till swollen. As I removed my trousers there was disappointment all over Clodagh's face. I'll beat you to the joke that I should be used to this reaction when I derobe but we were both upset.

I lay down and she stroked my leg.

"It's still swollen a lot."

"I know."

Sharp intake of breath.

"Bend it for me."

I really tried, gritted my teeth and forced it to 90 degrees. Clodagh cheered up a bit. "Good. Now straighten." Not so good. She got her protractor out. "That's actually straight." She said without belief. "Can you push your knee down?"

"No."

"Try."

"This is me trying." She stroked the leg again, the project we were both disappointed with. Then without warning, like she was annoyed with it, she pushed down. I whimpered in pain.

"Did that hurt?"

"Yes."

"Sorry."

"It's okay." She took to mean she could do it again, so did. It wouldn't hyper extend.

"Too much swelling, not enough muscle. Wait here." She bustled out in the way that only hospital people do. I stayed, lying there in my pants. I suddenly thought of a friend who is also having physio at the moment. He had told me the day before about some inappropriate swelling he'd had during his last physio session. Lying there in my pants I tried to remember England's starting line-up from last week's game against Holland. Clodagh returned with massage cream.

"I'll try this. Should relax the muscles and shift some of the fluid." She started with deep, painful massage around the knee, trying to push the excess fluid away, and then started more gentle soothing massaging of my thigh muscle to bring it to life.

"Hart, Baines, Cahill.."

"What?"

"Nothing, just thinking about the football." She carried on massaging my thigh. I continued through the team, all the way to Wellbeck. It did the trick, and her massaging also seemed to work as, when she pushed down on the knee, it touched the bed beneath.

"How was that?"

"Hurt a bit, but not bad."

She then got me to stand up and watched me walk. I felt like a catwalk model. I was managing a not bad bit of walking. Yes, I can walk. Having assessed my walking she gave me a list of exercises to add to my daily routine: stand on one knee, leg straight for 3 x 10 seconds, then same again with bent knee, marching slowly on the spot, lifting knees high, and a funny straightening thing using a big elastic band. I wrote all these down and we booked the next meeting.

I hadn't managed to get a lift there and so had spent £15 on a cab. I couldn't afford to get one home again, especially as she wanted to see me in just four days, so I got the bus.

Luckily there is a bus almost directly outside which drops me about 10 minutes walk from home. 10 minutes walk with normal legs, in my current state it took at least twice that long but was not bad. The bus had been busy and I had nabbed a disabled seat. As each old person got on I made sure they could see my crutches. Only one person barged into my knee and my swear word was only heard by a few people.

I've introduced a new icing variant. With the shower hose I get the water as hot as possible on the knee. Then I slowly reduce the temperature, until it is as cold as possible, freezing almost. I keep it on the knee for a minute. It seems to really have a good effect. I read about this about 10 years ago. It does something with the red blood corpuscles, pulls them through to the surface, and they do something good. As you can see I didn't read it properly, hardly remember any of the details but I'm doing it. Anything to get the swelling down...Hart, Baines, Cahill....

A Weekend of Missed Football

I'll start with the mild disappointment that it wasn't really Nemanja Vidic who commented on the blog. It turned out to be a really clever use of the 'porn-bot'. You know the things which pique your interest, imply they are interested in you but just end up leading you to a porn site. I think 45 of my followers on twitter fall into this category but I have never had one who pretended to be a footballer before.

It's been a weekend of frustration.

When I am fit I play for two football teams. One is Mayfield Athletic, who play in the Amateur Football Combination. I was player manager last season and we finished just below halfway. This season, without me, and with my managerial input being minimal, they are second and heading for promotion. I make myself feel better by saying that last year was about rebuilding and this season we are showing the benefits of that but there is no getting away from the fact that they are doing better without me than with me. This weekend they won 1-0 to consolidate second place. Another game missed. Another game I will never get to play in. Each match is perishable, it's gone, dead.

The other team is a group of writers. We are called the England Writers Team but I think that is because no one else has taken that title. We're not the best football playing writers in the country, we're not the best writers who also play football, although a lot of the team are well known for their written work. Anyway, we play, and somehow I have become the player manager for them too. Player manager is a pretty sad position to be in when you can't play. They had a friendly on Sunday with the team against whom I got my injury. I'd scored in that game, a free kick from 35 yards, but I always remember it as the game I got injured in. So they had a game on Sunday morning and I was going to don the managerial sheepskin but it was raining and I just couldn't imagine watching them play whilst getting soaked. A sheepskin coat gets pretty heavy when it's wet so I decided not to go. They too won 1-0.

Both wins delighted me, both teams still make me feel involved but there is a separateness that being the none playing player brings. It's fine till the match starts and then you are just a spectator. It's like spectating life. Interesting but you really need to be part of it. It's almost worse afterwards when the match is being rehashed. Moments of heroism, stupidity and magic are discussed in the pub and my view of it, whilst respected, is still that of an outsider. I always go home feeling very alone and so whilst I wanted to be there and would have if the rain hadn't come, there was a little bit of me that wanted it to rain, was relieved by the rain.

To play again is all I think about, when I am watching games on TV I memorise things they do, and promise to try them when I return. I'm going to be a braver player when I return. I'm going to be a better player. I can't wait and everything I do is geared to that moment. It should be on the 10th November. That's when I get to be part of the action again, part of the team.

Normal Service is Resumed - For Katie

Half way through week three Katie's life finally went back to normal and oh boy was she happy about it.

While I have been totally incapacitated she has been brilliant, doing everything for me but she's always had her little jokes. The Pithy Elbow was only the tip of the iceberg. Her favourite was continually chuntering 'in sickness and in health' as she carried out some other task for me.

Well, Wednesday morning saw my reign of terror end as I managed to do all the things that I would normally do for her before she sets off for work.

1. Coffee in bed - this is the trickiest as it requires me walking up the stairs with crutches. I'd had a practise with a couple of cups of cold water during the day on Tuesday. I'm nothing if not meticulous. That went well, no drops spilled so I announced at bedtime on Tuesday that I would do the coffee.

2. Breakfast - I'd been doing this for a few days so no great shakes.

3. Glasses - I always clean Katie's glasses. I don't wear glasses, even though I really should, but they irritate my face too much. I have no idea how she gets them so dirty and each day it's my job to clean off yesterday.

4 - Lunch - We don't live on the poverty line but buying lunch at work is always at least £5, so £25 a week. Thus for the last few years it has been my job to make the sangers (sandwiches).

Doing 2,3, and 4 in the time it takes Katie to have a shower is a tough ask on one leg which is why it has taken till now to get back on an even keel so it was indeed a big moment as I hobbled to the door and waved her off on Wednesday morning.

The other thing that came back on Wednesday was my back exercises. I've had a bad back for a few years. It took a while but eventually I got my GP to send me to a physio. Jonny was brilliant, within four 30 minute sessions he got to the root of the problem, and devised a daily routine of exercise to keep me pain free for ever. The trouble was that with my knee up the creek since the operation the exercises had been impossible. On Wednesday, with some difficulty and a few minor adjustments I managed to do them. This came just in time as I had started to feel the familiar twinges.

And so now here we are 3 weeks down the line, 1/13th of the way through the recovery. The daily routine has been re-established and now I need to try and get my daily life back to normal. In another three weeks I will be walking crutch free. The next target.

One bit of excitement this week was that I had a comment on the blog from Nemanja Vidic. He too is recovering from an ACL operation and will not play again for Manchester United until August. He'd happened across the blog whilst googling about his injury. He didn't say much but said he was following and hoped we both made a full recovery.  I'm not a Man United fan but I thought it was a nice touch.

Three Week Anniversary

Three weeks ago today I had the op. And today I was back at the hospital for my second hydro-physio session. Why can't they just call it physio in the pool?

Nessie took today's session and seemed a bit surprised. Almost like we had turned up unannounced and spoiled her Friday swim. There were four of us: me, Slobodan (broken ankle from last week), Derek (broken leg, rugby player) and Marlene (elderly German lady with a reconstructed foot).

Me and Marlene arrived first.

"Ve need to herry ahp und get in ze showvers."

I'm Jewish and I know it shouldn't but something makes me shudder when a German accent is ushering me to the showers. I quickly overcame my knee jerk fear and discovered Marlene had a good sense of humour and, in spite of her advancing years, an eye for hobbling rugby players in their trunks. She took an instant shine to Derek and made me and Slobodan feel quite inadequate.

"Vot a laffley bohdy you eff Derek."

Derek, 50 years her junior, turned lobster.

Nessie got us all moving and I quickly showed Marlene that whilst Derek may look good, his broken leg made him a lightweight in the pool. My knee had come on a lot since last week and I whizzed through my exercises and was more than ready for the Ministry of Funny Walks. Derek had to sit them out but I did them all with gusto. My long leg lunge being particularly good. Nessie forgot to tell us not to do any of these at home. I hope Derek can work it out.

Having been dropped off by Simon, cheers, I got picked up by Jimmy,cheers. He was on his way back from an audition for the new series of The Thick of It. He thought it was funny to have auditioned for a best script writer Oscar nominee but with no script, just impro. It's the way he tells them.

This week has seen steady progress and I've tried, by playing CDs and thus having to get up and change them, to make sure I exercise regularly. Monday sees me back at the hospital for my first proper physio session. I hope I've got as far ad they expect.