Yesterday, I was back at Doreen’s for more intensive physiotherapy. Ahhhh yes: My sacrum, my leg, my foot – essentially, my body – are in such good hands.
Inserting a CD containing my recent x-rays into her computer, Doreen led me through an audio-visual tour of my pelvic region. Despite the obvious deformities and pelvic tilt, there was not a single screw in sight. It was all mine – bones, joints, cartilage and an unidentifiable mass that might have been a gaseous intestine – every bit of it, mine. Because, thankfully, with Buddhas and Angels hovering during and after my fall, evidently a wise (educated?) decision taken in a Cambodian hospital meant that no metallic chip or plate was going to be implanted into my body.
So, with profound gratitude, my body is free of nuts and bolts, and looks nothing like this:
Nor, like this:
- Source: New York Times Well Blog
And today, I had a follow-up appointment with my podiatrist.
While waiting for Dr. G. to enter the exam room, I pulled out my camera and snapped a few photos. This one, all plaster casts of feet, sent me reeling back to memories of my leg cast being partly removed and modified into a back-slab; the swelling, the pain, a kaleidoscope of crazy colors marking my skin.
- Whose feet do these belong to?
Dr. G. took one look at me and pronounced me fitter and stronger than she’d seen me yet. What, no cane? After checking on the status of my retro-fitted orthotics, making small adjustments and eyeing my body up and down, Dr. G. anointed me a poster child for recovery. (OK, so I’m light years away from being a child, but the point was made – and appreciated.) She looked in awe, amazed at how much I’d recovered in just over a year… and from such massive trauma to your body!
True, I thought, and even better, Dr. G: No metals!
Healing Pilgrim 