Obviously, I was traumatised on discovering that I needed another operation. Talking to people, who have not been through anything like this, is always interesting as I think that people find this predicament a bit difficult to grasp, as I would and, in all honesty, still do. Even my own dad, who otherwise has been great through all this, asked me," Surely you can put your foot down, just a bit?" No, not even a bit! For 4 months, my left foot has not been able to touch the floor and has been wrapped in a variety of different pots so, despite my concerns about starting to walk again, the thought of putting this off even longer really upset me.
Anyway, next came the feeling of being inquisitive and relieved. The plan was to get me home and to have a bath, which I have not been able to do, but first there was the matter of the disgusting foot. Underneath my foot was a plastic looking layer of skin resembling crusty meat. There was no way on earth that I was getting into a bath with the prospect of huge lumps of my foot chugging around in the water. Wondering what would happen when I put my foot in the water was the question on my mind as I hopped up to the bathroom. Nick put some warm water in the bath and watched as I sat on the edge of the bath, trousers rolled up like I was paddling in the sea, dangling my feet into the water. Next, inquisitiveness took over me and I couldn't help myself. Imagine that you had the biggest juiciest spot of the end of your nose and you knew that once you squeezed it, it would be gross but very satisfying and would then be gone. Well, that was me. I just had to pick, pick, pick at my Parma ham foot. How did it feel? After 4 months of being in a pot, it can not put it any other way than to say it was bloody wonderful! If you will, picture a crystal clear pond with lily pads floating across it. That was what my bath looked like (apart from instead of lily pads floating, it was lots of pieces of my foot, including the scabs from the incisions, sitting on top of the water. Nice).
Next came the cringing moment. Knowing what a big job I now had, I had to ensure I had the correct tools for the task. Yes, a new razor was needed to cut through the carpet that had become my left leg. Realising that I may have been better with hedge strimmers to do the job, I did the best I could and was left with quite a sore leg and still clumps of hair remaining that I would slice on another day.
Next came the most glorious bath that I had ever had in my life. Music, a drink and far too many bubbles, I was in heaven. I phoned my mum, squealing, "I'M IN THE BATH!" (and then had to spoil it by giving her the bad news about my operation) Relaxing in the bath felt so amazing that I lost all track of time and an hour and twenty five minutes later, I had to shout Nick to help me get out of the bath as I was I was beginning to resemble a wrinkly prune.
Feeling sparkly clean, I slid down the stairs on my clean, but wobbly bottom and felt truly exhausted. How could I be so tired? I had not exactly had a strenuous day. My final treat was the following day when my foot spa arrived. More bubble heaven for my poor foot. One of the plus points of me breaking my foot is that I have realised how important feet are and know that I have to look after them now. Therefore, in future, I will just have to 'torture' myself to indulge in a foot spa at least once a week. Oh such is life!
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