I got the cast off (eventually, amid much confusion and a fun encounter with a man who will henceforth be known as Bad Attitude Registrar). And was given an air cast.
An air cast is a large grey contraption in two parts, with three velcro straps, it has to be inflated and deflated at four different points to go on or off and your leg looks like RoboCop’s. They’re really large. I’m wearing an adult small size, and my toes are sticking out the top, but the medium size wouldn’t tighten enough around my leg to work. I am on week four of six, we are having the coldest March in twenty years and MY TOES STICK OUT OF MY BOOT. If I get through this without frostbite I will count myself lucky.
The entire point of it is to let me walk on the ankle without rotating it in any direction. The idea is that you can walk unassisted in it, for values of walk that include clunking along in a painfully halting fashion, but as the consultant gloomily observed ‘A lot of people find it hard to balance’. I fall over if you look at me funny to begin with, this is not an ideal state of affairs.
The thing is completely rigid, and the sole is the best part of three inches thick at the back. And it’s a rocker. So unless I’m in a situation where I can get away with my awful FitFlop boot on the other foot, I am distinctly off kilter. Taxi drivers HATE watching me progress, to the point where they make worried noises and take my bag away for fear it’ll overbalance me.
(Taxi drivers have been universally wonderful, and sometimes I even get a bus driver who will kneel the bus for me.)
I start with the physio on Wednesday. The consultant sent me to this one specially, because of my ridiculous freakishness. Slightly terrified.