Back Home

The first couple of days back home and out of hospital were relatively painless, even when I stood up (with my crutches, of course). I hadn’t seen my wound as, when I awoke after the operation, my leg was wrapped in a fairly heavy bandage, which wasn’t to be removed until I went back to the doctor a week later. Can you imagine having to wait a week to see what lay beneath? The suspense almost killed me. As did the itchiness.

After this painless start, my physio exercises suddenly became harder and I felt as if I was going backwards. The bandage began to bulge alarmingly just below the knee. It throbbed like a cartoon thumb hit with a cartoon hammer. It was very solid to the touch, too. Either I was swelling up or something was wrong. It was Saturday, so I couldn’t speak to my doctor. This was bound to be normal, I persuaded myself. After all, the knee had just been through a very traumatic experience.

Sadly, I didn’t really manage to convince myself. Instead, I went through all the different possibilities. Maybe I had an infection. Maybe my bandage was too tight and this was some kind of build up of pressure. Perhaps it would explode soon. I became afraid of the growth beneath my knee. Standing up had become extremely painful, not only where the swelling was, but also just underneath it on the shin. I saw stars each time. I watched the football on Sunday night with a twig clamped between my teeth. I was desperate to get the bandage off.

On the Monday morning, rather than getting dressed, I decided to wrap a towel around my naked self and crutch-hop off to the kitchen for breakfast. This is quite possibly the most stupid thing I’ve ever done. I live in a high-rise with another high-rise opposite and we can see into each other’s homes. I’d left my curtains open overnight. I don’t think I need to write the next paragraph.

But I will. The towel almost fell off once, but I managed to grab it just in time. This happened again as I was crutch-hopping from fridge to lounge. The final time it happened, I was on the way from lounge to bathroom and I didn’t manage to catch the towel in time. At the same time as dropping the towel, one of my crutches slipped and I put a little too much weight on my bad leg. It was rather painful, to say the least. Had anyone been looking over from the high-rise opposite at that point, they would have seen a naked man spreadeagled, Peter Crouch-like, with a pained expression on his face.

Since then, I’ve got dressed before crutch-hopping anywhere.

My journey to the doctor was my first experience of the outside world since being discharged five days before. It’s big out there.

My doctor took the bandage and dressing off and, for the first time, I was staring at the ugly, stitched mound beneath my knee. Above the mound, my knee seemed to have been shaved and it looked like a baby’s bottom, kind of swollen and rubbery and soft. I was still fretting about whether something had gone wrong. I told him about the excruciating pain when I stand up. He smiled.
“Does it feel like someone’s sticking a red hot poker into your leg?” he asked cheerfully.
“Yes, that’s about the size of it.”
“Perfectly normal at this stage,” he said.

I wish he’d told me to expect that. Of course, once he’d told me it was perfectly normal, the pain immediately became less intense.

I now have a smaller, compress-type bandage over my knee, which is far more comfortable and it’s gradually becoming less painful each day. I may even be able to return to work next week. This will mean that I will need to shave. I haven’t shaved since going into hospital. I almost have a beard. I don't want to shave it off in case it's a lucky beard in some way. Or perhaps I just don't want to go back to work.

I’ve had quite a few visitors over the last couple of weeks, but one person has come to see me every day. In Singapore loads of people have maids from the Philippines or Indonesia or somewhere. A lot of people have shocking attitudes towards them, like this, for example, written by a celebrity blogger (you have to scroll all the way down to the end to read her invective). One of the maids from the high-rise opposite, who Ella and I have got to know a bit, has come over to see me every day to make me a flask of tea. I’ve given her a key so she can just come in every day without me having to get out of my seat.

We got to know her through a family in the high-rise opposite. They asked her to pop round and see Ella when she had dengue fever last summer (I was in England at the time). She came in and asked if she could do anything for Ella. When Ella said no, she just sat and held Ella’s hand for fifteen minutes.

When I got home from the doctors, she’d been round again and had left a plate of sandwiches for me on the table with my flask of tea. Today she brought me a Thai green curry. I offered her some money, but she didn’t want it (she told me she’s not allowed to take any money from anyone other than her employer anyway).

Her kindness has made it all so much easier for me over the last couple of weeks. A bunch of flowers when I’m back on my feet doesn’t quite seem enough.

Here are some photos of my impressive leg.

By the way, is anyone else having trouble posting pictures? I can't seem to use the usual post picture link thing so I have to use Hello. How do I do it using HTML. Anyone know what I'm talking about?