Hospital + 3 weeks

Precisely three weeks (to the day) after my accident and a week that has seen me getting better in impressive clichés (sorry: leaps and bounds), and I must admit even I am rather pleased with my progress.

Even though all the muscles in the left leg have felt all tightly twisted and knotted and painful (they still do, to a lesser extent), going up and down a flight of stairs has become a little more bearable. I can now walk around the flat unaided and - having finally ditched the cushion - sitting down is tolerable now and almost pain-free. [From here, I can look back with a slight smile of amusement at the pain of attempting to sit down on a hard wooden toilet seat AND trying to do your business… - Stop it, dear reader; it is Not funny!].

At last the rag-roll of bruising to the back of my left leg has started to dissipate, moving slowly from dark purple to a kind of rare-meat pink; parts of the limb have even started to itch (a good sign in the recovery process, my Mother always told me).

As I mentioned last week, although I’ve started getting my energy back - and on Tuesday managed to venture beyond my High Street boundaries to venture into Whitechapel, East London for (as it turned out) a completely wasted and pointless visit to the Dental Hospital - I find I do still tire very easily.

One interesting observation: when out on the street, you do start to notice just how many other people are using walking sticks and canes, and some even crutches - not all of them old people. There’s a kind of shared empathetic glance that passes between you, rather like that eye-contact exchange of two fellow bow tie wearers, that acknowledgement that says “ah, you can tie one too, good for you, my dear chap”.

Anyway, by Thursday I felt confident enough to ditch the crutch and transfer to a walking cane. I have so many sticks to choose from (another time-consuming dilemma for me to wrestle with before I face each day): “Mmm, now which cane captures my mood AND coordinates with the suit I’m wearing today? Decisions, decisions - And, do I have a hat to match?” Oh, the agonies…and they say Beau Brummell took over two hours just to tie a cravat…move over Beau.

Still, I’ve been bold and arranged to meet a friend next Thursday at Covent Garden. We usually meet up at the Albion Emporium for afternoon tea and cakes, and hope to discover whether recent gossip of it’s apparent demise is, hopefully, unfounded.

[The one bit of fantastically good news concerns a couple of silk top hats, but I shall hold that over till a later blog, probably in the week ahead…]

And so it’s ho-hum, onwards and upwards - although, when out walking, I still have to make sure that the left knee goes forward and not inward. Next week I hope to be able to sleep at night without the pyramid of pillows propping up my kneecap. Such is progress, I suppose.