After nearly 2 weeks in plaster of paris, followed by another almost 2 weeks in a plastic cast, the cast was finally removed. This was a nerve wracking experience in itself as the trembling young assistant attacked the cast with an electric cutting wheel, which looked like it could easily slice into my shin bone with one careless slip of the hand.
My surgeon was away and no-one seemed to know if I should go into an Achilles boot or not. It didn’t inspire confidence but I gratefully hobbled out of the consulting rooms with no boot and with the imprint of the plastic cast lining still clearly visible on my now quite hairy right leg. I also still had the black arrow down the back of my calf that the hospital had asked me to draw with a felt pen on the day of surgery - just to make the 100% sure the surgeon actually operated on the correct foot!!!
The next two weeks were spent getting used to (something resembling) walking again. Although I didn’t have a boot, I could really only walk with help of a crutch. For me this stage was a lot more painful than the days immediately after surgery. In fact I had very little pain after the surgery and while cast was on, but once I was walking around around on my affected leg, it took very little time before my heel would get sore and I’d need to take the weight off my foot (all 45kg of me…).
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