Posted on February 21st, 2016 by shady1
I was half way out of the front door. Boot on. Ready to go. Car keys in hand. ‘Er, aren’t you forgetting something?’ Said my beautiful, full time carer, otherwise known as my wife. I’d grown really close to my crutches. We’d been through a lot together. How could I forget them?!
I’m at 4 weeks post op. I shouldn’t be walking yet in my flip flops I’m feeling really good. With my boot on , thanks to fantastic German design, I honestly feel like dancing it really is that good. So off I went to see my specialist to get the go ahead to commence my PT .
He felt the wound. Asked about any pain and I made the big mistake. ‘It feels like you left a stitch in?’ I said hesitantly. And there it was. A stitch. Underneath the healing skin. He smiled. That smile sadistic doctors give before pain is inflicted. So I lay on my stomach as the tweezers went in for the kill. OMG. Holy *hit! It took 5 minutes. I could feel the blood trickle. He finished. Well, I thought he’d finished but no, there was more stitch to come. He went in for the second kill. I started to cry. The nurse looked at me. I laughed. The pain was worse than the ATR. Serious!
Afterwards I felt sick. Couldn’t care less about the PT. I just wanted to be with my crutches. Everything happens in life for a reason. The stitch was there to tell me to take it easy. Be patient. Do as you’re told.
I’m going on holiday tomorrow for 4 days. Me, wife and crutches. Can’t wait….!
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Posted on February 11th, 2016 by shady1
NWB. PWB. FWB? Up until 3 weeks and 1 day ago, when I first found this fantastic website, I had no idea what any of the acronyms stood for! And here I am now,bordering on ecstatic, due to the fact I actually put my NWB (I understand now) foot on the ground! Ok, it was a small piece of my foot but there it was. On the ground. I stood there, crutch less. I waited 10 hours. Came home from work and did it again.Whether correct or not I am now claiming PWB.
Stood in the hospital, a mere 2 weeks and 3 days ago, post op drowsy, attempting to go to the toilet, wondering if I would ever stand again normally, I never saw this day coming. The bodies ability to heal itself is incredible. As is a positive mental attitude, or PMA as I like to know it! Next goal FWB!
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Posted on February 7th, 2016 by shady1
I went back to have the stitches removed and can honestly say that was the most pain I felt since being initially shot in the middle of the football pitch!
The scar has healed well in 2 weeks and from a half cast and more bandages than is sold in a month in your standard pharmacy I am left with a 6inch waterproof band aid and of course my new best friend ‘boot’!
To all you fellow sufferers out there, a few weeks in front of me recovery wise, can you advise.
The doc said leave the boot on at all times apart from showering. Is this really necessary? I am in no pain and without the boot it encourages gentle stretching. Is this a bad thing?
Doc said still NWB for another 10 days? The boot actually encourages you to put your foot down?
Physiotherapy wont start for another 4 weeks? Anyone start any earlier?
And finally. The doc said there is a 4-6% chance of a re rupture. OMG. Has anyone had a re rupture, after surgery, whilst in a ROM boot?
Maybe I should just listen to the expert…..?
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Posted on February 6th, 2016 by shady1
Well the ‘boot’ came as a shock financially. In Kuwait the fantastic medical treatment doesn’t stretch to things like crutches, boots etc. You are guided out of the hospital, across a dusty, crazy road full of mad taxi drivers,to the peace and serenity of the local pharmacy. Armed with a trendy set of crutches I’m on my way but the boot has to be obtained from Kuwait City. So off I head with my trusty taxi driver.
Arriving at the store I’m guided to a lift as the orthopaedic area is in the basement. How fantastic. A lift. Very thoughtful. And then the lift door opened to reveal 6 really steep steps! You had to laugh.
I hopped down the steps, avoiding an ATR of my good leg, to be shown an array of ‘boots’. My very Arabic speaking shop assistant sold me a very nice German boot (MEDI) for the equivalent of c$400 and sent me off into the sunset. Thanks to my medical coverage I can reclaim but that’s a lot of money for 1 boot. Not even a pair?! Lol!
Back in my apartment I looked for the instructions. Nothing. Only a reference to ‘wedges’ which can be purchase as ‘optional extras’. I have no idea if I need wedges. My stitches get removed tomorrow. My trusty Egyptian doctor will show me the way….
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Posted on February 4th, 2016 by shady1
I wanted to see my foot. 7 days after the operation and I was in no pain. Weird. I had read so many other stories of horrific pain. Inability to sleep. A desire to cut the leg off from the knee and end it all. Yet I had nothing. I felt a fraud. Other than the cast on my leg and me hopping around like a one legged kangaroo, I felt fine.
So I went back to see the doc and demanded he cut off the cast and show me my wound. He smiled. Removed the biggest scissors in the world and went to work. He was holding my foot at a funny angle and as the cutting neared its conclusion I expected blood and puss to ooze from my cast. There was nothing. The gauze was removed to show a nicely stitched 5inch gash. It was clean with very little swelling.
Before my operation the doc told me I reminded him of the blond chap from ‘the great escape’ - I think it was a 1960’s war film. He even googled it as I sat in the surgery. He told me I was a good man and that God would take care of me…
So he wiggled my foot a little too much for my liking at which point my wife turned the other way. ‘I told you God would take care of you’. He said with a smile.
He placed me in another half cast and told me to come back in a week to remove the stitches.
‘Shukran jazeelan (thanks indeed) ‘I said, in my pathetic Arabic.
I am happy and am off to find a boot!
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Posted on February 1st, 2016 by shady1
I love the way this website has created a medical equivalent of running the NYC marathon. I get to follow my medical progress around the marathon route I actually ran, in my fathers memory, back in 2005. I am currently at 0.43 miles. This puts me just on the bridge ,on the way over from Staten Island to Brooklyn.
I remember the NYC marathon as if it were yesterday, not 10 years ago. I was nervous. Not really sure what to expect. I knew I would make it, I had to, there was too much depending on it. Too many people had sponsored me. I didn’t want to let anyone down. But the one thing that will live with me forever is the genuine friendliness and encouragement I received on the day. From arriving at registration, through to thefinish line ,I was out on that course for nearly 12 hours. Thousands of strangers all coming together to achieve one goal.
At the moment, 1 week post op, I cannot see myself running another mile for a very long time. How ironic that the encouragement and support I needed so much back in 2005, is now being replicated, via a web site designed for total strangers, to come together in support of each other.
Thanks to everyone for your support. It may take me a little longer to finish this marathon but finish it I will!
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Posted on January 30th, 2016 by shady1
They are strange places hospitals. They save your life. You are placed in the hands of strangers you have never met before and, in the case of nurses who care for you, may never meet again. You build up a bond. You trust. No more so is this trust greater than when you are in a foreign country, for me, Kuwait. English is not the native tongue yet you don’t need it. A smile speaks every language.
And then a guy comes into your life called a ‘consultant’. He will also be your ’surgeon’. When I think of surgeons I think of heart transplant surgeons. Those guys are fantastic. Me? I just ruptured my achilles playing football. Silly sod. At my age….
My surgeon tells me it’s serious. My previous 2 lung clots make it even more serious. I have to stop my warfarin medication 5 days before he can operate. This is a bummer. I want to get on with it… He asks me if I’m a patient patient? He is Egyptian and finds it funny the English language can sometimes throw up words spelt the same with differing meanings?!
I am one of life’s most laid back, ‘patient’ individuals. This drives some close to me crazy. ‘Exactly how patient do I need to be doctor?’ I ask. ‘Your life is in my hands and you will do things as I want them doing not as you feel they should be done. If you do as I say you will be back fully operational within six months.Firstly we need to get you through the operation, infection free, no blood clots and then let’s see how we go. Ok?’
This is serious….
The op flew by. My four days stay in hospital in Kuwait will live with me forever. Total strangers.Differing nationalities and religions. In a world where there is total madness. Too much death and destruction. Every one of the hospital staff went out of their way to make me feel special. They cared. I just went for a game of football. These guys saved my life.
Thank you Al Salam Hospital Kuwait.
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Posted on January 28th, 2016 by shady1
Ok ,here goes. The start of a long journey…..
10 years ago, at the tender age of 41, I retired from football(soccer). I was ok. Nothing special. No real pace but on my day. Wow! I moved to Kuwait with work. Watched friends for 3 years play weekly 5 a side pick up various injuries. Too old! And then Monday 18th Jan 2016 arrived…… Come and join us my friends said. 1 game can’t hurt right? So off I went. Purchased a new pair of Lionel messi boots. I looked the part. My wife was impressed!
So I arrived and went in goal let in 4 goals but took it easy. I wanted to work out the fast and hard guys to avoid . 30 mins in I venture upfield. Played a few nice passes and eased my way back in.
Then, stood on my own, with no one within 10 metres of me, I was shot from behind. The bullet hit my left Achilles. The coward took me out without warning. I initially clapsed but got back to my feet and hobbled back to goal to see out the last 15 minutes. I was in a bad way. I knew it was real bad. Got back to apartment. My wife took one look at me and she knew too….
Can you believe the next day I went to work? Hobbled all day in agony colleagues laughed at me. ‘Aren’t you too old for football’?! I took no notice.
Next day I went to local hospital. The Egyptian doctor took one look at me . He knew. I was sent for MRI. The nurse took one look. She knew.
And the result of the scans led me to my first ever ATR surgery. 4 days ago they started to rebuild me. With previous DVT issues I am a special case receiving top class care until I am discharged from hospital tomorrow.
And then the real journey begins….stick with me. This could be fun..
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