Still wrapped

These are pictures of the inside of my leg this morning. They go some way to explaining how the consultant was able to flex my calf in the middle – a somewhat disconcerting experience. He was a little more circumspect than my physio – describing my leg as ‘bowed’ rather than ‘deformed’. All those extra years of training I suppose. The radiographer was less discreet. “That’s a mess!” she cheerfully proclaimed, as she trotted in with another x-ray plate. All of which adds up to the fact that I shall not be enjoying an unwrapped leg this Christmas, and shall be nervously hoping that January brings some better news about the alarmingly bendy nature of my tibia. My long awaited bath still remains on hold too. So I hope nobody’s got me soap on a rope for Christmas.

On the plus side, I have been able to re-think my cast’s colour choice. Green seemed like a good idea at the time, but facing such a bilious colour on Boxing Day morning didn’t really appeal, so given the choice again, I opted for classic black. It will go with my little black dress.

Given that my preferred Christmas pressie – the ability to wear a pair of shoes – is not now going to come to pass, I decided to treat myself and buy a CD-ROM of all of my x-rays (£25 – probably a price aimed at the personal injury lawyers). In fact, if I hadn’t, I would never have seen the majority of them. The consultants seem to go out of their way to study x-rays in private, then practise their euphemisms as they seek to explain just how knackered you are. Was it a good idea for me to get copies of them? Is a little knowledge a dangerous thing? Probably, but after a few years as a teacher, I have proved myself well practised in the art of stretching a little knowledge a long way. And they are grimly fascinating. Especially the CT scans of the inside of my head. Scary.

So, now that I have been able to see my own grey matter, I feel properly equipped to continue my temporary renaissance as a teacher. Which is useful, as I’ve had to turn down a Magic Flute in January, and am looking increasingly shaky for the chorus in Butterfly this February. And that only involves humming.

So it’s back to hobbling around Croydon, trying to fit my Christmas shopping into a shoulder bag. And I’ve been told to cut down on the weight-bearing, so it’s small and light pressies for everybody this year. Which is handy, when the tax man’s on your case.