Yesterday was a big day for me; those of you who have been following my path from surgery to recovery will have noted that I haven't mentioned Frankenstein's boot for a while - this was the inflatable, rigid foot device that replaced my plaster cast and enabled me to commence physiotherapy. It is in physio that I have graduated.
For former athletes like me, it does not come easily to be ranked among the weak and afflicted and when I met Phil, my physio, I could not resist telling him how many miles a week I used to run, or how often I used to swim. Only later did I reflect on how lame this must have sounded: the truth is that we are only good for what we do now (unless, of course you used to be a premiership footballer). I resolved simply to be good at whatever Phil asked me to do. So I balanced on the wobble board, traversed the foam balancing beam, cycled 2 virtual miles on the cycle and generally tried to be vigorous.
Last week the man-who-cut-off-my-heel-only-to-fasten-it-firmly-back-with-a-titanium-screw said that I could remove the boot and start to walk around unaided. Yesterday Phil reviewed my progress and gave me the good news: from next Monday I graduate into an exercise class: Advanced Ankle.
I know you will all share the joy.
