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So here we are in raglan for the summer, we've just lined ourselves up jobs in a cafe and somewhere to live for the duration - with Shane and Jenny away for the week and our first Christmas off of work together, this looks like it's going to be a great start.� In the spirit of doing something unusual on Christmas Eve we book ourselves surf lessons.� I'm a little nervous but can't wait to get started as that's the main reason we came to Raglan.�
Our lesson is first thing in the morning and it looks pretty bleak - we have a talk through things before hitting the beach.� Once kitted out in very attractive wetsuits and a ridiculously long board we head out.� The water's freezing and it's starting to rain, only one thing for it - straight in!� Richard gets straight to it and I figure it's now or never for me too.� The wave comes in, I jump up on the board and ride the wave in.� I can't believe it, my first wave and I caught it!!!!!� I jump off the board and that's when everything goes rapidly wrong.� The pain in my ankle is unbelievable but unfortunately my surf instructor mistakes my scream of agony as one of joy - by the time he realises I'm crumpled in a heap in the surf.� After determining the fact that I can't walk he carries me up the beach to the life guards where they put ice on it and strap it up.� I'm told it's probably a sprain but that I should get it checked out just in case.� It's swelling rapidly and I'm still in my wetsuit - I pointblank refuse to go to A&E and have it cut off of me!!!!� Once back in my clothes and suitably propped up in the back of our van we head to Hamilton to the Anglesea Clinic.� 4hrs later I'm seen by a doctor, one look at her face and I know it's not a sprain.� She sends me straight down for x-rays.� It's then that the first in a succession of emotional bombs begins.
It is in fact broken - BANG - twice - BANG - I'm not going home tonight - BANG - I need surgery - BANG - I can't have surgery until the swelling goes down - BANG - oh and it's also partially dislocated too - BANG BANG BANG!!!!!!!� Everything happens in a miserable blur, I can't believe that this is happening, it's Christmas, we're on the other side of the world, we're backpacking........
I'm transferred to the Waikato Hospital by ambulance and taken to a room where I meet my surgeon. I'm given laughing gas while they plaster my leg and sort the dislocation out - it doesn't really help with the pain, just makes me feel like I'm vibrating or something equally strange - and is far from funny!� I almost break Richard's hand in the process - I apologise afterwards! �
I'm taken up to ward 26, my home for the Christmas holidays.� I'd be lying if I said I wasn't distraught, so many feelings pour through you at times like this.� Anger, depression, regret, question after question - why why why???� I'm not even aware of the pain any more.� The ironic thing is all I can think about is how I always wanted to break my leg when I was little, the plaster and crutches - it all looked so much fun.� It's not. �
After being nil by mouth on and off for 4 days I finally get my surgery - the waiting time is longer than usual due to the extra accidents that occur over the holidays - and by the time it comes around I'm actually surprisingly nervous.� I've never had surgery and am totally alone on the way down.� The guy who takes me tells me it'll be fine.� I ask if he's ever had surgery, he hasn't.� �
After that I don't really remember much of the next 48hrs but pain.� It's so much worse than the actual break and I almost feel that if I'd known this beforehand I'd have refused surgery.� It also makes me realise that I've clearly never actually been in real pain before. �
I finally get released on New Year's Eve of all days - partying is far from my mind.� The drive home is terrifying.� No-one prepares you for the immediate vulnerability you feel on leaving the safe walls of the hospital.� Everything is scary.� And the van is far from comfortable to ride in. �
The next 10 days are spent at home desperately trying to lug around the dead weight that is my plaster cast.� I struggle with my crutches too - if only I'd known this was going to happen I'd have worked on my upper body strength ;o)� I can't believe how much hard work they are - living downstairs isn't helping either as the distance to the safety of the kitchen and computer is an eternity away! �
We return to the hospital for a check up, stitches out and cast change.� Lets just say it's a good job I'm sitting when the cast is removed as I all but faint at the startling sight that is my leg.� It's still grossly swollen - from the knee down it's the same width - and there are huge black bruises around my ankle, namely due to the metalwork I now possess.� The good news is that the stitches were dissolvable and are long gone.� I pick out my new lightweight fibre glass cast - in fluorescent orange, well it is summer!� The difference is amazing, not only is it lighter but looser too, so I can move much more agilely - well as agile as someone non weight bearing on a broken ankle can be!!! �
5 wks later and the cast is finally off.� A mere 3 hrs at the hospital to have the damn thing cut off and my leg x-rayed and we're free to go!� If I thought leaving the hospital last time was scary this is even worse.� I'm not sure what I expected exactly, but just to be told "off you go" certainly wasn't it!� I have a referral for physiotherapy and told that I'm free to walk - maybe if I could move my foot I'd give it a go!!!
Physio is back at the hospital as the one in Raglan has recently left.� I'm driven in and out by the amazing volunteers at the Community House.� My physio is called Maria and informs me that I'm looking at anything up to 12 wks - ouch!� We begin with stretches and massage to reduce the swelling and over the weeks progress to the swimming pool and gym.� Not only is she a great physio but a good listener too as I proceed to pour out various worries and problems.� In fact the whole team are a complete life saver to me, turning out to be my surrogate friends and family throughout my treatment, always happy and chatty and making the whole process almost enjoyable!� It's a sad day when I finally say goodbye, discharged and free to leave......
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