This week I learnt a new Italian word:
You know, like when you'd wriggle like a little worm when your mom or dad or crazy uncle Pat would tickle you when you were just a little kid.
My dad would get me'n'my bro and tickle us to death. I mean, we would be gaspin'n'gaspin' for air. You know, like when your voice goes all goddamn hoarse and sounds like Darth Vader or Barry goddamn White just because you can't take anymore tickin'. That's what my Dad would do to me'n'my bro are a regular basis when we were little.
It was torture. Torture tickin' with his finger jabbin' non-stop into our neck, our armpits, our ribcage. He would call it "THE FINGER". He could pin both me'n'my bro down on the floor, one finger from one hand on me and one finger from the other hand on my bro. It was torture. We would cry. We would beg for him to stop. We loved every goddamn second of it. We would beg for more. If you could bottle that feeling and sell it you'd be a billionaire.
You'd squiggle like a little snake, and holler like a little pig but they'd carry on all the goddamn same laughing at you?
SOLLETICARE = TO TICKLE.
It's been a super frustrating two weeks since this goddamn surgery. I'm not a patient patient that's for sure. I've needed to remain horizontal with the leg elevated. Every time standing up to go to the loo or make a goddamn cup of coffee the blood rushes down to the injury and just pumps'n'pumps PAIN into it like a madman pumping air into a rubber dingy on the beach. It makes it pretty much impossible to move at all or do anything.
Every morning I need to inject a needle of Clexane into my stomach to reduce the chance of contracting deep vein thrombosis. I've done this 16 times now since the surgery and my little beer belly has gone'n'got all goddamn black, blue'n'bruised over somehow from the injections. It's pretty goddamn disgusting it really is. I was worried, so I even googled it and found some pretty goddamn shocking things regards this Clexane. But it's all safe - just unfortunately it's a necessity to prevent deep vein thrombosis, which can actually kill a person. I got 7 more injections to go. It's pretty goddamn serious it really is.
At least I've been able to count on some super good friends bringing me fruit & vegetables, and my girl's been here the last few days baking me up some tasty treats in the kitchen to take good care of me. Hell, I'm one lucky goddamn son of a gun I swear to God.
Friday, two days ago, I went to the hospital again for a few hours to get the wound cleaned and substitute the cast from the old plaster cast into a lighter fibreglass cast.
Now, it's one more week that I need to keep it elevated and then I need to change the cast again for one that is possible to walk with, so to begin to put some weight on the ankle/foot.
I asked the doctor for some time-scales on when I could possible begin to exercise again (I'm really feelin' like one big ol' lazy soft fat cat during this goddamn recovery period, it's a pretty low, digusting feelin' I swear to God). He told me I can:
2 months from surgery date
- this means attempt first swim 7th May
ATTEMPT FIRST JOG:
4 months from surgery date
- this means attempt first jog 7th July
This news kinda cheered me up a little bit. It means waiting just 6 weeks until I can go to the swimming pool and finally do a bit. Finally blow off some of the cobwebs.
Then this doctor , totally out of the blue, started rubbing solution all over my goddamn foot and ankle. No warning. Just like that. Stroking quickly this cold solution all over my foot and ankle and leg, and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
It was like the worst tickling in the whole goddamn world, because it made you twitch and laugh, but was super painful at the same time as you'd feel all your nerves and tendons respond to it and JOLT your goddamn foot all over the shop!!
We took a video and some photos to show you...
And that will be all until next time.
Ciao ciao ciao for now...
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