Ok, it’s been several weeks since the last one – and that definitely didn’t end well! But here I am with more hardware inserted in this ageing body of mine and I am seriously wondering where it will end, if it ends at all. I am acutely conscious of you – the reader – looking at this and if you know me you’d know what I’d say if it happened to you – “Oh FFS! What have you done now?” I’m conscious of this blog giving me a vent to write-out my frustrations & my thoughts instead of bouncing around in this skull of mine but I’m also conscious of not going into that melodramatic stuff which puts off the reader who only clicked on the link out of curiosity during their lunch break!
So we’ll start where we left off – post-Majorca…
The new ankle held up well really, considering what I’d put it through. As you might imagine, the rehab was somewhat “rushed” as I was enjoying a really good period of fitness in Majorca, the climbs seemed easier, they’re bloody hard – they always are, but the perceived effort seemed better and I enjoyed them more rather than just survive them.
Within a few weeks I was back in the local hospital and the backslab semi-dressed, semi-plastercast thingy was removed. Due to the inactivity, the leg had shrivelled to something resembling a thin pencil, that’s the aim I guess – total inactivity & stress so the bones & ligaments can heal. The backslab was set in such a way I was not holding my foot at right-angles, nor was it fully dorsi-flexed so when it came off I had absolute zero range of motion. I couldn’t even put my foot flat on the floor – I’m thinking “what the hell happened” but my chimp-brain wouldn’t make way for the normal rational thought process. I left with a fancy boot with a heel support allowing for that lack of extension. I was given a handful of exercises by the plaster-guy (I don’t know the official name for that profession – someone enlighten me!) and he was super-helpful and overly happy. In a hospital where (I guess) he sees his fair share of doom & gloom I guess that’s his way of dealing with it or he’s basically just happy guy?!?
If I’m being honest, the boot lasted as long as the time I got home, it was off as it was so big and cumbersome. I couldn’t have that big old thing hanging off my leg all day long. Suzy wasn’t impressed – outwardly people are giving me mobility aids and I’m throwing them off as soon as I get home – I can see her point! I did wear it a few more times, mainly when I went out. A trip out to watch the local Park Run and answer the usual “what have you done now?” comments as well as a couple of other times, either going shopping or seeing my daughter for dinner. One of the last times she saw me my shoulder was in a sling so you can imagine her face when I hobbled into the restaurant with a gigantic boot affixed to my already knackered leg! Her face was a picture!
The next week I was in again, seeing “happy plaster guy” for a removal of the surgery staples. They hadn’t fully healed when I saw him for the boot-fitting a week earlier and he explained that he’d only remove every other staple so didn’t see the point of doing that and then me coming back to do the others later – fair enough. So out they popped – all a bit “stingy” to be fair but by no means as painful as I thought they were going to be. He advised me not to have a bath for a few days so let the scar heal a bit and then I’d be ok to crack on with a bit of movement. The truth was I was already working on that “movement” bit – the lack of a boot meant I was bearing weight probably way too prematurely but it felt ok going up stairs step-by-step although it looked a bit of a performance when I did so. My rationale was that I had been in a hell of a lot worse state a few years ago after my crash so this was a doddle – it wasn’t but you know what I mean.
The day after hospital I talked myself into getting on the indoor trainer – my main concerns were the lack of fitness, having lost “all” my form since Majorca, having a shortened range of movement in my legs so saddle height needed to be adjusted and also clipping out of the pedals. Such a simple movement but the fact I had broken my ankle and that twisting your ankle is exactly what you do to get off the bike didn’t scare me at first but for the first two weeks of riding the bike, reaching down and assisted that right foot/ankle to twist and get out of my pedals was exactly what I did through fear of dislodging something again!
I had it in my head to increase the duration each bike ride, to increase the saddle height until I got back to the “normal” saddle height and increase the intensity by 0.01-0.02 each time. These little increments will stop me going mad by not training and also help me not becoming injured or getting ill by pushing too soon. Within a matter of a fortnight I was confident I could embark on a training plan that I had set up in my several weeks of inactivity aptly named “The Comeback is better than the Setback”!!!
Another week or so on and I’m realising that I did indeed lose a lot of my Majorca form! The lack of training and the foot/ankle being stuck in the backslab meant I was almost starting from scratch so it was going to be along road to that “Comeback”. My fears of not being able to start training before Christmas had been helped by being on the bike a little earlier so that’s a positive I guess.
I was also back in the gym doing my rehab exercises with my PT – it was (again) almost like starting from scratch so the road is going to be a long one. I also decided to start swimming again – what started as a curious few lengths in the pool soon turned into 2k sets and I was soon adding 200-300m each week to start venturing into 3k sets.
I’m going to be honest here and admit my stroke was absolutely horrific as I hadn’t swam since my shoulder injury in early September through fear of making things worse but after some reassurance by a NHS consultant, coincidentally who was seeing me for my 6-week review on my ankle, said it was ok to use my shoulder until they could get round to reviewing that. The ironic thing about this consultation was that the consultant was the surgeon that repaired my knee back in May ’21. We had a brief but very light-hearted catch-up on my knee, my shoulder and then my ankle! Anyway – back to my stroke… it was horrendous, over-rotating, no catch, no strength in the pull, legs dropping – you name it. My pace was (obviously) considerably slower than when I left the pool last time – surprisingly, so over the next few weeks it’s been a case of smoothing that swim out as much as I can and getting back to the basics – I guess if there’s a time of year to get back to basics – this is it as the volume and pace aren’t the priority right now.
The 6-week “all clear” from my ankle injury meant I could also now get a MRI for my shoulder. I think I said in my last blog how new hardware was a contraindication in having a MRI as the high-powered magnet would have an effect on any metalwork in the body. As luck would have it, I managed to get a MRI organised just one day after that 6-week period. This was also (very luckily) arranged at my local hospital so no need to travel major distances, which was what we were expecting to do.
Just over a week later and I was off to the private consultant in Cambridge to see the results of the MRI, and as expected, the joint needed reconstruction due to the posterior dislocation. The surgeon was quite reassuring in saying that recent gym work and swimming had no negative impact on the surgery required. He also went onto say that this is a procedure that can be done at any time and there were people who waited years to have this simple procedure done so there’s no impact on waiting. I gave Suzy, who accompanied me to the consult, a look that she knew all too well – we both pretty much said in unison “let’s get it done straight away” and with that he agreed and whilst we were travelling back from Cambridge (a 90-min journey) he had contacted his secretary and the she called later that day with the options – “next Monday or in the New Year”?
“Next Monday”!
Knowing the impending downtime (again) I absolutely hammered the indoor trainer, the gym and the swim sessions, increasing the duration and intensity allowing that “over adaptation” for when I was recuperating from the operation. Looking back I put myself in a bit of a hole so-to-speak and I’m quite surprised I didn’t get poorly or run-down by doing almost 2-weeks’ work in 1 week. But there I was, on the following Monday lunchtime, being admitted for the next piece of surgery.
As it turned out Suzy was working all week in Cambridge so a hotel was already booked and I knew where I’d be convalescing once they kicked me out of the hospital – coincidentally a 1-minute drive from the hospital.
I’ve become accustomed to the usual pre-op procedures, desensitised to a degree so paid little attention to the nurses, physiotherapists and others popping in & out of my private room throughout the afternoon once I was admitted. The surgery was going to be around 3pm so I got into my not-so attractive operating gown and my left shoulder had the arrow written on it so I was all set. I finally went down ay about 4 o’clock and quickly sent Suzy a message I was on my way and I’d message her when I woke up. I eventually woke up at nearly 8 o’clock and was very surprised as I thought the procedure would only take an hour or so being so “simple”. How wrong was I!
As well as having general anaesthetic I also had a nerve-block which meant I couldn’t feel my arm or shoulder for up to 24hrs. The weird sensation of having permanent pins & needles wasn’t pleasant but nothing could prepare me for when the block actually did wear off – it was a pain I had never experienced before. I’m sure having a major RTC and emergency surgery on your knee did actually hurt….alot, but my memory of it has faded (probably best that I had forgotten to be fair) but this was a sharp pain that despite the pain medication I was given, wasn’t really masking it. To try and keep it simple – I was in bits. It didn’t matter where I moved or how I adjusted my position I was in a debilitating pain cycle that I had not anticipated as it was a “simple procedure”. I then read the surgery notes at the end of my bed and realised a 24mm bolt had been inserted into my shoulder – “yep, that’d be why it hurts a lot” I thought.
In my head I had this simple keyhole procedure as an “in & out” kind of affair, little did I realise this was a little more complicated. The first nights’ sleep was ok – the nerve block put paid to that. But once I was discharged later on in Day 2 and back to the hospital, sleep was not good at all. In fact it’s safe to say I didn’t have any in that first night in the hotel and this was made worse by feeling guilty that Suzy probably didn’t have any either as I was restless and crying in pain pretty much the whole night. She headed off to work on Day 3 and I slept like a newborn baby depending on how much medication I consumed – the more I took, the more I slept. I dragged myself to the hotel restaurant to have something to eat but was soon back in the room sleeping. Suzy returned to try & look after me as best she could whilst I winced at pretty much any movement I made, the arm sling wasn’t helping but without it would’ve been impossible so I wore it nonetheless in the hope I could have a few minutes of pain-free life.
Day 4 and the guilt was too much so I took the medication and made a dash for the train station and got home within a few hours to collapse on the sofa with exhaustion – at least Suzy could have a good nights’ sleep with “yours truly” rocking like a demented pysch patient on the edge of the bed.
They do say there’s nothing like your own bed to get back into and this proved to be the case – I slept for nearly 14 hours that night and still woke up tired so my body clearly needed it.
Over the past few days the pain has dissipated, and Suzy has returned from Cambridge to keep an eye on me. Any sudden movements still create pain, I mean the operation was only last week after all! My chimp brain is kicking in at every opportunity, telling me that 2024 is a write-off already and I might as well sell the bikes and take up gaming or some other non-movement hobby. I know it’s all relative but when you’re as active as I am despite my long-term injuries any amount of time where there’s zero-movement is disastrous for my brain. The rational brain know this is very short-term and either this or just the other side of Christmas will see me back on the indoor trainer at the very least. The gym & swim side of things might take some time with this new hardware in my shoulder but it is what it is – as long as I can ride my bike I don’t care. I’ll go back & see the surgeon in early January so I’m hoping I’ll be a little more mobile by then – in the meantime I’ll just take in a little more downtime before “The Comeback” makes its’ return!
Coincidentally, I had a counselling session this morning. She didn’t know I had this operation so soon, the last time we talked I was just about to see my consultant. The meeting was supposed to be face-to-face but I asked for a virtual meeting which we’ve done more often than not in recent months, mostly down to my list of injuries and me being unable to drive!
We discussed recent events and my homework is to draw out a “Worst Case Scenario 2024” – not actually a “what if the worst things happen” kind of a thing – it’s more of a plan of what’s ahead in the next few months and to see what my options are if this shoulder remains a problem, or if the ankle or indeed the knee flare up. There’s ongoing work issues but this blog isn’t the place for such rants or comments – maybe one day.
I’d like to think this is the last time I see the anaesthetic “prep” room before the Operating Theatre, a cannula needle or indeed the inside of a hospital but my recent experiences have taught me never to say never. You do not know what’s round the corner…no-one does. My counsellor always says “no-one has a crystal ball”.
But is that worst case scenario for 2024 really an option???
Suzy – I think she’s caught up with her sleep now after a few nights’ uninterrupted sleep. The years’ stresses and strains catch up on you when you least notice it so I will try my best to not get into anymore entanglements with hospital OR’s anytime soon!
In the meantime she remains by my side telling me “but we’re a team” when I feel like this part of the team isn’t pulling its’ weight – we move on…together.