Wow, I seem to have totally freaked you all out with those pictures. Freaked you into silence. Or is it punishment for not posting for a whole week? Or am I being period-induced paranoid? Or do you all not read blogs on the weekend?
If Day One didn’t make you faint down dead or throw you a complete wobbly, then Day Two should settle your nerves. I have pictures but they’re on my so-not-an-i-phone and will therefore never see the light of day because getting photos off my phone? Near impossible. Therefore, you are all off the hook!
Day Two involved getting in the pool. Oscar was tres excited about this idea because it involved sitting on a chair that took him (gently) upwards then (ever-so-slowly) around to over the pool then (nice and calmly) down into the water.
This is where his interest and enthusiasm began and ended. Getting into the pool was lovely. Doing anything asked of him in the pool was absolutely out of the question. I mean. Let’s think about this.
1. You’ve had major reconstructive surgery on both your feet.
2. You have not had any weight bearing on your legs for six weeks.
3. You have an impaired neurological pain pathway system*
It was just not going to end well.
To his credit there were some things he would do – some limited kicking AND he did put his feet down. Eventually.
Getting him showered afterwards was horrendous and involved him splashing me and me smacking him back before I even really knew what I was doing. Classy.
From there we were off to orthotics to get his new AFOs (aka superlegs). More tears. (Also, mutual crankiness because with kids there is a range of patterns you can choose from for their AFOs to be made of but because Oscar’s were molded during surgery no-one asked me what they should do so they are just white plastic. Sigh.)
Once we were fitted up with those Oscar was primed for physio.
So yeah. I cried.
I mean, here was this kid and everything he’s been through and what did he do? He (with help from the physios) got up on his feet and walked along the parallel bars with nary a whimper or complaint.
What can I say, I shed a tear. Or 20.
Of course, it didn’t stay that way and it is a week on which I will always look back on as one of our best and one of our worst.
The afternoon featured physio and getting