I thought the impending Mayan apocalypse predictions for late December would mean I got to save money on buying Christmas presents, but alas the only apocalyptic thing that happened where I live was Waitrose running out of Turkeys.
After all of the years of me sending out this blog, I have received some heartfelt responses covering a huge range of emotions; support, shock, anger, sympathy, you name it. But the sheer number of responses from you guys to my last blog made me realize one thing: Cologne adverts really, really bug the hell out of you.
We had a quiet Christmas day. My mother-in-law, Peggy, joined us for the day and we had a nice relaxed time, opened a million presents and chilled out. New Year’s was the same really, just had a friend round and relaxed.
My days of being a party animal seem to be over. One year a large group of us spent New Year’s Eve on a boat going up and down the Thames, complete with loud music and a very ill-conceived all inclusive bar.
By 11 o’clock, after much searching and arguing with the staff about my rights to any form of alcohol found on the boat, we had located the Sambuca and other shooters. I think the cruise organisers were making a mental note to make sure they implemented a no-Zimbabwean policy in future.
This year it was vegetarian canapés and some fruity cider for the girls. Things have definitely calmed down these days, it happens to all of us I suppose. For me it is not through choice, the Hell Raiser is still there, but has been restricted by me ‘elf issues as they would say in these parts.
Speaking of which, my leg is still subject to a vast amount of nursing attention. The district nurses now come twice a week for at least two hours to talk about the pressure sores, clean out the wounds and change the dressings. They are now using compression to stimulate tissue growth and healing by wrapping both legs up in numerous bandages. Sometimes we have a team of two, sometimes up to four people. So I have my wife, community nurses, and tissue viability nurses and now a plastics nurse all having a look while I lie there.
The long and the short of it is that the major pressure sore is just not healing up. This is because the wound is on my ankle and kind of movement of my foot whether in my chair, getting in and out of the car, or even just moving it off a footplate is stopping the flesh from growing. So now when I sleep I have to do so with my moonboots on to keep my ankle straight and at least give it a bit of time in a good position.
To add to all the fun, because I am continuously bandaged, I also have to cover my legs with black bags in the morning when I shower to keep the bandaging dry. The next step is to put a suction machine on the wound that is meant to suck out all the bad stuff and promote tissue growth.This all adds to the time consuming routine I find myself trapped in which adds to my general sense of frustration. If I manage to get these pressure sores sorted life will improve greatly so I am ploughing on. Cruising around a snow covered London in sandals probably doesn’t help either but I still can’t wear shoes due to the size of my feet.
Speaking of which, it has been snowing heavily here for quite a while, and although it initially looks pretty I am not made for snowy conditions and have a few hairy moments on the ice in my chair.
I have been given a more comfortable chair by local wheelchair service. It is a real cheapo, but is reclined and a lot more comfortable as the back is very high and provides me with real support, and has me stretched out properly. Of course there is a pretty substantial downside. It is so big and long that I cannot really move around the flat. It is too high for me to get under the sink to get water, too long for me to brush my teeth, too big to get outside into my back yard to have a smoke without completing a a twenty-five point turn and too cumbersome to wheel around in outside as the wheels are behind my shoulders.
It is basically a static wheelchair if there can be such a thing. The other day I dared to take the Behemoth into the kitchen in an attempt to make some coffee. I managed to reverse to get next to the counter to make the coffee, nearly knocked over all the plates, so I turned around, knocked everything out of the veggie rack with my feet, then got frustrated, knocking the dustbin, fridge and tray over just trying to turn around.
Like all reasonable people I did the natural thing and assaulted the dustbin and used some choice language. There were some guys having a row outside as I went into the kitchen but after my little thrombosis there was deathly silence outside. Some might say it is a little big for our little flat....
Otherwise all is well. Jay is back at school tutoring in the afternoons. We are both doing the usual New Year, New Me resolutions and are trying to keep healthy.
I went to see a dietician who went through an eating plan with me and then told me I had put on so much weight in one year because I was taking loads of steroids, can’t move most of my body and have a drug regime that makes me weak and lethargic. After so much blinding insight, the other dietician sitting in the corner cut in and said that we should probably not waste time stating the obvious. As much as I love the NHS, sometimes they do treat you like an idiot.
Otherwise not much has been happening apart from Lance Armstrong giving the one-nutted amongst us a bad name....
Take care everyone
