Golly, I am glad I’m home.

So, what happened….

Monday morning I went by air ambulance and was delivered to Woodend Hospital in Aberdeen.  The admitting doctor got excited about my ankle (I went over on it a few days back) so I hobbled down to x-ray (can’t sit, remember?) and they declared I had another avulsion fracture on the medial malleolus of my left ankle. I have had a few in previous years as I lack balance.  So my ankle was put in a blowy-uppy little cast thingy that annoyed more than helped.

Tuesday was the MRI scan and, as that was what I had come down for, that was what I was pleased about having.  With much undignified rolling on and off trolleys in a gown that sort of doesn’t do up at the back, I went through the machine hoping I wasn’t going to get stuck and have to live there forever.

After the scan, one of the spinal team (pain nurse) came over to me to say he could see nothing at first glance (but he did admit he had only been in the job some weeks) so then I spent the next night wondering if folk thought I was a complete fraud and asking myself if this was imaginary attention-seeking pain.  The ward staff were muttering things like normal airplanes and ferries to get home which left me feeling sick with worry as to how I would manage.

Then on Wednesday morning, I was woken by my pain nurse friend from the spinal team who said my surgeon had looked at the MRI and declared L4 was now bulging hence the pain and misery down my left leg and hip and back. This is the one above the original fusion.

The plan is that my surgeon wants me to have a nerve root infiltration with steroids and anaesthetic from the Pain Clinic in Shetland.  I have no idea what that is but I think it involves a big needle and my back.  I asked how I would get home to be told “air ambulance, of course” with which I gave an enormous sigh of relief.  Lumpy and bumpy but at least no hellish sitting.

So thinking happy thoughts, and finally understanding my pain, I was just considering getting up, etc when my nurse popped back to say the worst words ever – “oh yes, Mr Craig has just asked me to tell you that you cannot ride your horse until after the injections”.  I fought my corner but to no avail. I tried to explain that riding helps my back and mobility but it fell on deaf ears.  His parting words were that walking would help.

So now I walk with my Haakon. Even with my duff ankle.

We went for a couple of miles today – him, me and BeAnne in the spitting rain.  

It was lovely to sniff the Shetland air, not be hospitalised or base one’s day on when the tea-trolley is going to appear. 

Meanwhile, everyone at home was fine.  BeAnne was thrilled to see me. I moved the horses into another field and had a massive snog from Bozz-Bozz.  Klængur looked very relieved too, barged past everyone to put his whole head in my arms and just stay there while I rested my head on his and stroked him for five minutes.

I suppose everyone just has different priorities.