6 days since the injury. Learning to maintain the fine balance between careful movement to prevent all my soft tissue and muscle stuff in there seizing, and too much movement that will keep tearing the stuff that I hope is trying to heal.
I hope this metaphorical balancing act won’t be too difficult, because even careful movement hurts like a high-pitched screech. And frequently causes them, although I cut them off quickly because they’re embarrassing.
I’ve found a manoeuvre that reduces the pain of a certain movement. One of the screechy moves is my right leg sliding forward delicately to meet my left one. You know, like a step, only reduced to a six-inch shuffle. Moving backwards aches sickeningly, but it isn’t sharp like going forward. So in the middle of the night when I couldn’t persuade my bladder to wait any longer and had to walk to the bathroom, I discovered that if I move sideways it isn’t as bad.
Lesson learned. I’m walking like a crab, left foot out to the side, right foot raised gently until only the ball of my foot touches the floor like a dancer in slow motion, then gently bring it to rest alongside left foot. And repeat. It’s a slow walk, but it doesn’t bring a hot wave of near-faint pain and lights dancing in my vision as the price for every six inches of horizontal progress.
Next mission will be to conquer the stairs problem. Because my bed is up there.