It’s a lovely sunny day, if rather windy, but I decide that I should take the chance to cut the grass and hack back some of the overgrown greenery in the garden (after all I’m sure John next door will appreciate it if his bathroom window isn’t completely suffocated by honeysuckle). It doesn’t take too long to get the main things done and I retire for a shower with a sense of achievement.
A long conversation with Mum however confirms that no such feelings of progress and achievement are happening for her. Since the ‘boot’ came off her leg on Thursday she has been unable to ‘stand’ on her left leg without the whole foot turning over. She’s in tears.
This is so frustrating, as we really hoped that once the break had mended enough to have the boot removed her mobility would be improved. Sadly the opposite it seems is true. It’s hard to see how the strength of the ligament etc can be improved if she can’t put any weight on it successfully. She has physiotherapy on Monday – maybe they will offer some hope.
The Consultant on Thursday raised the possibility of surgery, but those of you that know what happened last time, will understand why none of my family are keen to go down that route unless absolutely necessary.
Needless to say all this is putting yet further strain on Dad.
The whole situation just feels like it’s too much for me to handle. How selfish is that?
Phil and Sarah manage to cheer me up as we head out for a curry (we had considered Thai, but then figured we couldn’t afford it).
Of course a return to the Punjab provides the opportunity to laugh with Ahmed about their concerned call to Stuart.
I think he knew we were joking when we told him that the Radcliffes were being unfaithful and visiting a different curry house…
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