21. The Waiting Game

The best laid plans...

So, originally, this blog instalment was intended as a by-now-familiar ‘countdown to an operation’ style piece, with amputation #2 booked in for Wednesday 6th. Sadly, this was not to be. On Friday we got a call from the hospital and the op has been moved to Wednesday 27th August as the ‘back-up plan’ plastic surgeon couldn’t make it. I’m not sure why. Strike action, or needing a holiday, or a more serious case to tackle, personal/family issue… these things happen. It’s fine, we’ve had a good innings so far.

It does, however, leave me (and you) somewhat bereft of juicy introspective whinings and profound insights into the pre-op human condition. There is a comparative lessening of mounting anticipation now, a muted ascent to emotional fever pitch. There is far less natural suspense in a blog written 20-odd days before an op than there is in a blog written just 2 days before. I might have to actually be skilful. I might need to pen something readable as a result of craft, and not convenient timing.

Also, what is there to write about? I don’t really do anything, or go anywhere currently. I’m in healing limbo as Trevor, the affectionately-named first amputation, does his thing and makes his laborious return to sealed good health. But, needs must. The algorithm needs feeding. I need to vent op-reschedule disappointment. You, I am sure, have literally nobody and nothing else you would rather read than this humble missive. And so, the show must go on. Let me tell you about what my days currently look like…

Treading Water

The #GoodbyeLegsRide was 14 weeks ago-ish. Amputation #1 was 11 weeks ago-ish. Time flies when you’re having fun. I’m not, really. Don’t get me wrong, I’m absolutely fine. I’m not sad, or miserable, or in any way in dire straits. I am just in a kind of limbo, as we wait for the next op, and the healing to take place, and then the prosthetics testing, and then the cycling testing, and all the other things I’d like to get on with in life. Important and necessary healing is taking place. Important and carefully-organised medical interventions are being planned. I just wish it wasn’t taking so long.

I am not the most patient person, but it’s worth noting I first raised the issue of amputation 15 years ago. I seriously considered it 8 years ago. And it became a possibility 20 months ago. That’s 1 year and 8 months of putting my wider life on hold, turning down any large freelance projects in case of operations, unable to begin any bigger career or money-making activities. That’s a long time to be floating and essentially surviving off Alice’s income as a zero hours dairy milker. I have been doing some work but, to be honest, it feels wrong when my mind is completely elsewhere. I think it’s a necessary period for us. And I think it will eventually pay off, in about 6 or 7 months once all ops and (hopefully) rehab and prosthetics acquisition is done, but it’s not easy.

I hate to sound like a broken record but, once again, this is not me whining. I’m content with how things are. We’re doing what we can. This is just reality. It’s hard for lots of people. And significantly harder for many people - we’re very fortunate.

‘It’ll be worth it in the end’ can sometimes seem like its doing very heavy lifting, though.

Physiotherapy and Physical Training

I keep my spirits up, and my general health in reasonable shape, by sticking to some semi-consistent physical effort. Mens sana in corpore sano, as they say. That means about 30 mins of good quality stretching and mobility work every day. Basically rolling about on the floor adopting weird poses, breathing, and hoping nobody is surreptitiously filming it for later laughs,. There’s a decent amount on keeping Trevor flexible and avoiding him building any bad movement patterns, and a decent amount devoted to preparing for the next amputation - keeping hamstrings loose, posture and core stable, etc.

Alongside that we have weights. This has been going on for about 18 months now - good general body stuff but, for me, a focus on building upper body strength and core to help with transfers from wheelchair to bed/sofa/car/whatever. Obviously since Trevor’s arrival its got a bit trickier and I do more reps on lower weights, no compound exercises, no barbells, a lot more seated work with dumbbells, etc. Basically being creative with dumbbells and kettlebells.

And of course cycling. Turbo trainer. No sight/sun dangers, less chance of falling off, less potential for foot issues, focussed intensity. Mostly z1 and z2 base riding, with a focus on good technique, with some short intervals at tempo and sub-LT (big gear, low cadence) to maintain what little muscle mass there is. Of course that stopped in May with first amputation. You could argue that I could pedal one-legged on the turbo but the idea just gives me horrific daydream nightmares of falling/sliding off saddle or otherwise ending up introducing Trevor to a cold concrete floor. I did something like that once, and have no desire to repeat it.

There is/was the potential of a clip-on handcycle for my wheelchair which would mean I could exercise and get some cardiovascular benefit (no legs required!) but to be blunt we don’t have the money. I explored the possibility of doing some marketing work for two brands who make these devices, offering to use my platform and social media presence to push people their way and they weren’t interested.

Finally, Compex. Basically neuromuscular electrostimulation. Like those ab trainer pad things you can get to zap yourself to a 6-pack (allegedly). But these are proper medical/pro devices and really useful for rehab and stimulating muscular contractions where your own ability to do so may be compromised. I’ve been using my (sponsored, to be clear) set for many years now and this helps me keep my legs ticking over while I’m not actually using them very much at the minute.

And that’s the fitness regime. Physio, weights, turbo, Compex. All fairly low-level stuff for safety and not compromising the healing going on, but the volume (and time commitment) mounts up.

Supplementary Issues

They’re called supplements. They supplement a good diet; not replace it. I wish more people (especially athletes) would recognise this.

So, first things first- I’m eating well/healthily. All the food groups. Generally more vegetables than fruit, as the diabetes doesn’t always appreciate the sugar.

One thing I have particularly drilled down on (partly due to my medical condition, partly due to the healing going on) is protein. Good quality meat/fish/eggs etc. But I also supplement this with a scoop or two of whey protein every day. And then I also add creatine (most-tested supplement ever - great for muscles and brain) and collagen (hydrolysed type 1 marine collagen for wound-healing). Can’t build/repair new tissue without the appropriate building blocks!

Alongside my protein ‘stack’, I have some other daily supplements - Vitamin D (numerous benefits), Turmeric (anti-inflammatory), Zinc/VitC (immune support and helping the collagen absorption), Magnesium (good sleep and general health. And of course we have Metformin for my diabetes (not a supplement, a medicine, to be absolutely clear!), and the occasional paracetamol.

This is far and away the most pills I’ve ever taken in my life, and I’m not a huge fan, but I think in this situation needs must. I want to maximise Trevor’s recovery, prepare for Roger’s arrival, etc etc. On the supplement front- there’s an absurd amount out there. Some of it works. Some of it doesn’t. I’ve tried various things, seen if they’re worth the cost. Lots of them were not. The above ones made the cut- for me. Your mileage may vary.

In vino veritas

Can I just say it really hacks me off that over the last few years I ‘got into’ red wine, to go with my whisky and coffee nerdisms, to the extent I even did a WSET Level 3 qualification in wines… and I currently drink less than at any point in the last 5 years? Yes, because it turns out alcohol is a big no-no (or at least strongly cautionary no-no) for amputation healing. Nobody told me this. And because I am intent on maximising little Trevor’s progress, I am cutting myself off at the bar. Well, wine rack. One glass max. Every week. I admit I occasionally falter. But for the most part I am sticking to this.

My saving grace is coffee. 3 cups a day. Non-negotiable. It used to be 1-2 good quality espressos/V60s a day. But if my happiness is being throttled by semi-teetotal restrictions, I am compensating so I have at least some joy in my life.

I have yet to find a non-alcoholic wine which tastes anything other than muted grape juice. I think most of you know my distaste for most lagers/IPAs. There are an increasing number of really good and tasty non-alcoholic beers, though - Guinness Zero and Leffe 0% being current favourites.

Negative Pressure Wound Treatment

The final, and recent, addition to may amputation healing arsenal is a PICO dressing. Basically an air-tight vacuum dressing which goes around Trevor and sucks all the air out. It keeps the wound clean, sucks away any exudate, stimulates new growth, all sorts. It’s a real faff keeping the seal, and moving around with a wire (and small vacuum pack) attached to me again, but it really has helped speed healing. So worth it.

Netflix/AppleTV/AmazonPrime/YouTube/Kindle

Probably doesn’t need explaining. We’ve got all the subscriptions. Lots of ‘content consumption’ going on. Please no recommendations- I’ve either watched it, or it’s on our upcoming hitlist.

In conclusion…

And there we have it. How was it for you? It didn’t really fill me with literary pride as I was writing it, but I hope it was at least interesting and shared a small glimpse of what I’ve been doing with myself over the last few weeks?

Thank you, as always, for reading. New subscriptions welcome. Comments, shares and likes equally appreciated. I promise next time I’ll return something a little more interesting.

T