A New Boot

The day of departure had finally arrived and like all would be travellers, I could not contain my
excitement. My case was packed from early morning and my goodbyes given. Now I had to be
set up with the right tools for my journey.

Firstly the vehicle, I had the wheelchair, a deluxe one at that, but had to go to the Charity Fund
that works something like the Red Cross; there you can hire any item that will help in the well
being of the patient, from walking stick to bed for unlimited time, for a nominal fee that will be
returned, unless you wish to make a donation, upon the returning of the said equipment borrowed. Armed with new and uncomfortable crutches; these were the type that fit like a cuff
around your arm, as opposed to the ones that I had brought with me from China, that fit snugly
under your arm, I was sent to have my heavy duty plaster cast changed.

The 'old fashioned' kind of heavy plaster cast is used mainly in the hospital, probably for it could
be termed as a dangerous weapon its weight being a few kilos and it could give a hefty blow to
some unsuspecting person, that is if one was able to lift and manoeuvre it?! I was sent to the
plaster room and was appalled to see that an electric saw was to be used to open the plaster
boot. In truth it doesn't hurt, but you do feel as if you are getting a close shave, as the hairs on
your skin seem to rise to the breeze of the turning wheel/blade. The plaster is cut through,
then prized open with pliers, and removed.

The surgeon (did I mention he is quite hunky, but married with kids) came to have a look and
was pleased with the result. I on the other hand was shocked and felt like Frankenstein. What
I failed to mention earlier was that now in my leg, from ankle above is a scar, on either side of
11 cm, that at that moment, was being held together with staples. Ugh!!! my revulsion was not
at the now lack of beauty of my leg, but at the distaste at the sight of it. In truth the surgeon
had after and during the operation, told my daughter that he had had to enlist the help of a
colleague during the surgery, because the damage was so bad and they had put in my right
leg and ankle, the whole tool box. This list entailed platters and screws, most of which would
remain there permanently except for two that would have to be removed at a later date.

A new cast of fibre glass was now put on instead, the weight being only 1.5 kg, so making moving
around easier, so they said. But of course now it seemed odd to be able to lift the leg easily and
now I had to relearn movements. On this cast though, the only disadvantage was that no one
could write on it, so it would stay clean and boring till it was finally removed a few weeks later.

Now ready to go, I was given my last instructions, I had to inject myself daily with a blood thinning fluid, that had to be done up to one month after the operation. This may sound easy for
some, but for those of us who are lucky enough not to have to deal with a syringe on a daily basis,
it is quite creepy and difficult at first, though in time like all things, you get used to it. The one
thing of note is, that the bruising from the injection, when self inflicted, is minimum as opposed to
those done in the hospital by the nurses, who have no time or patience and just stab quickly and
efficiently, but leave there mark. This brings to memory one particularly horrific occasion when
an elderly patient, who had received the flu injection and had been in hospital for 6 months
already with unexplainable backache, needed to have her blood taken.

First a male nurse came, this proved to be disastrous and her piercing screams of pain resounded around the ward. Proving to be insufficient, the original trainee orthopedic surgeon
that I had met the first day, who spoke almost no words of Hebrew, came too to take blood and
the same thing happened again, it was blood curdling and distressing for all around to see and
hear. I am not sure as to what could have been done to save her distress, but she kept shouting
that the needle was too large and no one listened, unless in fact that was the smallest needle that
they did in fact have?!

So, now ready to go, with my letter of release, my daughter, son who had come from further
afar to help, suitcase, wheelchair, crutches and myself, made our departure from the hospital
after a flight from China, an emergency ambulance drive, a two anaesthesia, one setting and
one operation later plus 11 days in total, I was ready to go and do you know what, I was a little
scared, because I had become accustomed to feeling safe in my little routine and cocoon of the
hospital ward and now I was to be alone in a strange apartment.