Rubber band

A new week, and a new set of extraordinary physio exercises. After today’s visit to my physio Mo – a lovely guy, by the way – I came away with a large rubber band, and the knowledge that I would have to postpone any visits to the rowing machine, as my metalwork would currently get in the way of the mechanism. I can’t say I felt too upset about this. My friend Bockers has had a rowing machine for years, and only used it as a sliding seat between his CD rack and stereo. The couple of times that I succumbed to its charms, it took only minutes before I was showing the early signs of heart failure. I was just happy in the knowledge that by walking from his CD rack to his stereo, I was maintaining a healthier lifestyle than Bockers.

The rubber band is exciting. I have attached an action shot. The temptation to use it as a rudimentary catapult is high, but I have to remember that physio is a serious business. Although it is quite hard to maintain this view when you’re tied in knots, your leg flailing wildly above your head.

Today’s visit to St. Georges is the first of two visits this week. The next is tomorrow, and it is to see my consultant. The physio will come in useful, as the x-ray technicians always seem to want pictures taken from bizarre angles, and are only content if you can maintain an extremely uncomfortable pose in complete stillness until they have run for cover behind a lead screen. It can never be as bad as it once was for William, however. He once woke up from an anaesthetic whilst being strapped upright into a chair to facilitate a chest x-ray. It looked for all the world as if he was being prepared for a 2,000 volt shock, and even though the 1 year-old William wasn’t, to my knowledge, aware of the barbarous law and order policies of the Southern states of America, it was still enough to terrify the poor bugger half to death.

And on the subject of things fearful, I have to admit to some trepidation about tomorrow’s appointment. And not just because when I took the bus trip to Tooting today, I was twice assaulted by senior citizens wielding their shopping trolleys like weapons. The nerves come from my desperate hope that I might see some progress on the leg front, coupled with the knowledge that last time I saw my consultant, he informed me of the slow nature of my recovery. And the only thing I can realistically do to speed things up, is to work hard at my physio. So bring on the rubber band. And whatever else it takes. It’s either that, or I will have to bend to the inevitable, and get some Christmas lights and tinsel to drape around my frame. Which would at least provide it with some decent camouflage as I walk around the shops of Croydon.