The Damage Done (And The Needle)

If you’ve not been following the thrilling story of my operation and recovery, it starts here, then goes here, here and here.

Last week, in my first week of being housebound, I was required to inject myself once a day. I never thought I’d be able to do that. In fact, whenever I’ve had an injection I’ve always turned my head away (which is quite painful when you do it at the dentist). When my doctor told me that I would need to inject myself every day for a week, I think I dreaded that more than anything else I was told about the rehabilitation process.

I was to inject into my tummy. At least I couldn’t miss.

The injection would thin my blood, preventing clots. The first time I did it I spent a few minutes psyching myself up. I stared at the needle, one moment trying to intimidate it, the next trying to make friends with it. It was probably less than an inch in length, but looked considerably longer. Was it really worth injecting myself just to avoid a potential blood clot or two? I asked myself what Humphrey Bogart would do. This helped. In the end, I decided to be a real man, like Bogart, and go ahead with it with a stupidly aggressive stabbing type action which would really impress someone like Lauren Bacall, were she watching. I had the needle. I had the stubble. The only thing I didn’t have was the preparatory Scotch.

I aimed the needle in the general direction of my guts and looked away, preparing myself for the classic backlift and stab (or the lift and drive, if you prefer). The next time I looked down, I was amazed to discover that the needle was already in. I pushed down and finished the job. Honestly didn’t feel a thing.

That hypothetical Bogart was a proper Jessie, wasn’t he?

Today I had my first physio appointment as an out-patient. I was there for an hour. It cost the equivalent of twenty quid. In England, when I first tore my ligament, it cost 80 quid for about 40 minutes.

I was given some interferential treatment: an electrical current is passed through the leg via electrodes. This creates a tingling sensation which feels a bit like localised, intense pins and needles. You feel the muscle twitching. It reduces swelling.

I’ve got a lot of exercises to do, too. In short, I need to straighten and bend a leg that doesn’t want to straighten and bend, for about half an hour, three times a day.

The woman from the high-rise opposite came round again today and made me this for my tea. It’s not just dinner: it’s a healthy, beautifully presented meal. Winner. I've been very touched by her kindness.



As if by magic, I can post photos without having to use Hello again. Thanks to Andy for his technical, amusing and ultimately unnecessary email support. And Jonny, too, for trying to assist in the comments section.