Pegging the washing out is dangerous… take it from me!

Hey everyone, so sorry I’ve not been around for a while. 2018 is kicking me up the arse… literally. So the main reason I haven’t been around is because I haven’t had a minute to myself. I know I know some of you must be thinking but you had all that time off when you had your operation….. well it turns out life is not just going to sit back and let me recover and recoup in good time. Oh no… I can’t have a leisurely approach to an operation.

So basically at the same time I was evicting Gordon, my lovely husband and main breadwinner of the house had a slight change in his job… when I say slight change I mean the job went in the bin and rightly so because it was a terrible job that he hated doing. This meant that during the three weeks I was off sick from my operation he was able to be around to look after me. And after my three weeks off I went back to work, and got an extra job to help make up the difference. So after three weeks of recovery time I was working three part time jobs to more than full time capacity to ensure we could at least pay some of the bills and eat. I seriously didn’t have a minute to myself that I wasn’t working or sleeping. Then along came a lovely shiny new job which he started a few weeks ago and I was thinking as soon as we are back into a regular cash flow income from the pair of us I’ll slow down a little, start to think about me time a bit more and drop a few hours here and there….. all the while feeling worse and worse due to a massive lack in vitamin D apparently.

He is less than two weeks into his new job and last Saturday I was enjoying a morning in the house to myself. A day off, I had done what o promised myself and for once I wasn’t working, so I decided to catch up on some much needed housework…

There I was pegging the washing out when bam, my foot slipped into a small hole in the garden and my ankle wrenched over, I heard a distinct popping sound (never good when talking about body parts…. unless you mean the 80s dance craze) I clutched at the washing in my arms (a large blanket) I rolled like an expert commando, all the while thinking oh god no, no, no. I skinned my knee as I rolled across the gritty path and landed with my face in the squishy pile of comfy blanket where I lay and cried for ten minutes.

I knew it was bad. I could feel it. I couldn’t move without feeling sick. I kept taking deep breaths and got myself semi comfy lying on the blanket in case I passed out. (I am so rubbish with pain) after about ten minutes or so I heard my stepson who had just finished having his morning bath, come downstairs and enter the kitchen. My little saviour. I shouted to him and with a look of sheer terror on his face he helped me up onto a chair, got me crutches from the upstairs office (husband face has dodgy knees) and I stumbled my way to the sofa.

On my journey to the sofa I tried to assess the situation… 15 years ago I broke the same ankle in a similar way (except without the washing) when I say broke I literally split my bone up the middle somehow and ended up having a plates and pins to stick me back together again. It was this exact same ankle and I knew my pins weren’t happy.

I got on the sofa and called my closest bestie (hubby was at work and had a manic shift with no breaks) and explained the situation and the fact I could do with a lift to go to the lovely hospital and get a picture or two of my insides. She obliged and off we went.

Now I bloody love the NHS and I cannot fault them. They have looked after me in so many ways and I don’t know what I would do without them. The nurses were so lovely and smiley and helpful, we all had a laugh and a joke and I was in and out in less than an hour and a half with X-rays included.

Turns out I hadn’t broken it thank fuck! But I have torn tendons and ligaments, aggravated my plate and pins and there was an ostrich egg size bulge on the side of my ankle that looked crazy. The lovely Jane gave me a magic boot which I have never had before. Now bare in mind that without the big fat plastic boot I can’t even put my foot on the floor, with it I can hobble along and walk (used in the loosest term) around a little at a time. Jane was also a star and let me take pictures of my X-rays and also my original scan of Gordon as I didn’t get chance the first time around so here’s some pictures of my insides for you….

This first one is of my gallbladder and Gordon the gallstone. 3cms he was….

This X-ray is of the side of my left ankle,on this one the plate and pins are clear and also the swelling by the side of them

So yeah that’s my inside photo shoot for you. Sorry if it’s a bit gross or whatever but I find it fascinating. I’m now awaiting an appointment with the physio who will be giving me some hints, tips and exercises and hopefully I’ll be up and running in no time.

I’m already walking slightly better but all this hobbling around is very tiring. What it has done is made me slow down completely and take time off work. I’ve spent the week with my leg up and caught up on some tv, I’ve tried to recharge my vitamin D by sitting in the garden and avoiding the dreaded hole. I’ve started to have a clear out of things I no longer need and although I’m stressed out about finances I’m actually starting to chill out a little.

So that’s given me time to sit and think about my blog and how much I miss writing it and so I figured I would just drop by and let you all know how I’m getting along and how dangerous pegging the washing out is.

Be careful out there kids…..

Signing off xxx

Advertisements