Crutches on the drip

Happenings – fast and slow

The results of the biopsy are yet to come because that determines whether I should still be tethered to the intravenous drip mechanism or I can go home on oral medication.

The beginning of my second week has arrived with still no inkling of when my bed at home would receive the warmth of its owner.

The intravenous needle had begun to irritate me and cause pain, an alcohol/water mix pad was applied to offer a cooling effect but not to much avail, in the end, it had to be removed and everyone is waiting on the doctor to decide how I get fed my antibiotics.

Speeding ticket for crutches on the run

The physiotherapist arrived to see my foot and legs then went to get crutches on which I did a hobbling run that could have landed me on either my face or my butt, he steadied me as he told me tricks of rising and settling with crutches.

Whilst taking a breather the orthopaedic foot mould specialist arrived and my demonstration of crutch mobility was abysmal but I was commended all the same.

She took drawings of my foot, measured round parts of the foot then wrapped it around with cellophane and ruler down the front, applied a wet bandage that then hardened into a mould with was then cut out with a blade to the flexible ruler – I thought that was quite impressive chemistry.

90s, 80s but 40s?

We had a new patient nonagenarian arrive yesterday, now with my octogenarian friend who might leaving tomorrow, in fact, he has been at his most quiet today, probably because he knows when he is going back home.

Come think of it, being 43, I do not think there is something called quadrogenarian, you have to reach a certain age to be accorded a –genarian suffix and I am well away from that. The nonagenarian seems to speak Dutch with an English accent; he also has an English sounding name.

It goes to show that very few people lose their mother tongue accent no matter how fluent they become in another language, maybe he settled here after the war – my deductions might be true if he reads a high-brow Dutch newspaper but watches the English language news on television.

One observation, the hospital bed controls do not lend themselves to geriatric finesse, I have observed both fumble in frustration with the buttons, the more senior expelling expletives as if he was out at sea. Strewth!

A sport of ward probing

Then I did a round of the wards on crutches, no, I am not practising for the Paralympics but I think I have gotten a good feel of how to get around on those things.

The day is going fine, as I learn that the most inexhaustible reserve of hope, expectation and success is God's mercy for the stupid things one has allowed to happen and God’s favour to get one completely out of the rut to that place of confidence, assurance and worthwhile activity.