"THE" hip day

Apparently there is nothing that cannot happen today.......


Mark Twain

Swan Lake turns pink … Flamingo Flutter?

A new exercise in my regime involves training for an attempt to balance firmly on my left leg, without wobbling all over the place, something I have been unable to do very successfully for some time.

Does this remind me of something?

Once again it requires a certain amount of trust or faith. Why would I not be able to stand on this leg? Logically, it is a heck of a lot stronger and more reliable than the one I had been hobbling around on for quite some time.

Strangely enough my balance and my idea of vertical is a bit off true. I notice this when, as instructed, I practise in front of a mirror. I feel that I am standing evenly on both legs, but the mirror tells me differently. Perhaps the mirror is not straight?

I’ll get it right and there may still be a chance for me in the corps de ballet.

White Leghorn at the barre

Day 4

Successful recovery from a total hip replacement operation is a complex business.

Obviously, the surgeon has done the hard heavy duty work while I was resting. The nursing staff are there all the time to encourage, hassle and help and one could not survive without them. As mentioned before, next comes the physiotherapist, and, as the anaesthetist told me before the operation, he is not going to be your best buddy, arriving with a bunch of flowers in hand and smile on his face. Well, he did arrive with a smile on his face, but I did notice that the floral accompaniment was missing. Damm! I guess that means that he is there to make me work!

By day 4 I had managed most of the supposedly “easy” exercises fairly well, with due diligence, so it was time to get out the ballet shoes. Well, that is what I thought I should have packed, when the physio pointed me towards what I thought was a decorative rail running the entire length of the corridor outside my room.

Practice at the barre was what it turned out to be.

Perhaps not even quite so elegant as your average seven year olds ballet class but effective nonetheless. Just for a few seconds I saw myself starting a new career … but that thought was shortlived as the exercises were strictly supervised and those hibernating muscles were invited to come out to play. Ouch … and to think that it wasn’t too long ago that I had a fairly flexible exercise regime operating. How easily that hibernates.

Any illusions of grandeur were very shortly completely shattered, when, after the physio left, Himself said that, decked out in my elegant white Ted anti-embolism stockings, and missing a tutu, I looked more like a white leghorn chook than Margot Fonteyn!




















Oh well, I guess it’s back to the exercises and back to the office and no chance of a part in the corps de ballet in Swan Lake.

Sorry Barb, I will have to leave that up to you, and later I’ll have to try for the salsa classes!

Holding Pattern ...

I am going really well; and I will write again as soon as Atilla the Physio gives me a break ... ahhhh, here he comes again ... run ... oh OK maybe not run ...