On some progress and strangeness

Earlier this week, my physio brought over a set of pedals meant to be hand cranking but usable by feet. He put it on the floor in front of me, and I fully pedaled for the first time in over a year. I came very close to crying for joy. I had a bit of trouble keeping my left foot properly on the pedal but it is still early days. My ability to ride a bike has long been a worry.

At the gym where I am currently getting my physio, I made a double take recently when out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a nun in a veil and a tight gym shirt approach the desk. In fact it was a young woman with very flat and long black hair with a white headband under it. I wonder what Naisi would do with the concept of a nun doing aerobics in a leotard and a veil.

I tested myself today by renting a car from my car sharing service. I used it to run some relatively minor errands in order to get a further feel for how comfortable I am driving. It was also an opportunity to practice my driving skills. I think I did quite well.

One of the errands involved going to Aubut, a grocery warehouse store. In the parking lot, I was surprised by the license plate of a red Volkswagen Golf station wagon. It was a custom plate which read "MEXIQUE". The surprising thing about that was the plate was from New Hampshire! Given that New Hampshire is a notoriously conservative state, why someone would have a license plate giving the French form of Mexico is somewhat perplexing, to say the least!

On progress and fatigue, failure and success

Because of an overly bureaucratic interpretation of the doctor's note, last week, I worked three full days. I was very tired at the end of each day. Thankfully, the days were Monday, Wednesday and Friday so I had the chance to recover.

Admittedly, Thursday wasn't much of a recovery day as I had a dentist appointment in the morning and a physio appointment in the afternoon. Jonas, my usual taxi driver, drove me to my dentist in Verdun. Our route took us past a slightly scruffy dépanneur on LaSalle Boulevard. It had set of iron bars coming down from the balcony above, the door of which was open. Hanging from the balcony within the cage was a boxing punch bag which was being pummeled by a shirtless East Asian man in bare feet. Jonas said that the man was frequently to be seen at his training there. He added, he would be very afraid to rob that dépanneur because of the man. Not that Jonas would even try to rob a dépanneur as he is an exceptionally decent man.

The dentist's office was on the third floor. I walked up the stairs, but after my teeth were cleaned, I took the building's slow and idiosyncratic elevator down. At the present time, I can go up stairs putting only one foot on each step. However, I have to put both feet on each step going down. This is frustrating and annoying, so hence why I took the elevator down.

The physio appointment was mostly evaluation. The man had me do a series of exercises to determine my sense of balance and mobility. Generally, I did them fairly smoothly with one noticeable failure. He placed a recycling bin on its side in front of where I was standing without crutches. He asked me to alternately lift one foot and tap the upper side of the bin with each foot six times as fast as possible. I started with my left foot and did it without trouble. I then tried my right foot. I began to topple forwards and in my panic tried to push off the bin with my right foot. CRACK! My foot went through the upper side of the bin coming to rest on lower side which lay in contact with floor. The physio steadied me, both physically and mentally. While I failed that particular test, overall, the overall result of the evaluation was that I was nearly ready to move to a cane rather than crutches.

On Saturday morning, Volker, the man running my local breakfast place, gave me a sample of some bread he had baked with a special ingredient he had grown himself and had just harvested: hops! Apparently, he has some hops vines growing at this home. He had picked the flowers and boiled them in water. He then used the water to make bread. I had to admit the effect was subtle. He had a small basket of the hops flowers which he showed to the customers.

In the afternoon, I took a cab to the corner Sherbrooke and Côte des Neiges. Once there, I met with a nice driving instructor and took a drive. 

Yep, I drove a car.

One of the minor blessings of the collision is that it was my left leg that took the damage rather than my right leg. It is possible to drive a car with only your right leg in full operation, provided it isn't have a manual transmission. As manual transmissions are increasingly rare owing to advent of hybrids and electric cars, I am in luck. 

I had realized about two months ago that I was physically capable of driving a car. However, I was unsure whether I was mentally up to the task. My uncertainty and anxiety was increased because having been the victim of someone who shouldn't have been driving, I was determined not to be the cause of an accident. Another source of uncertainty was the fact that technically my license has always been valid, despite the fact that a year ago, I could barely turn over in bed without help. 

Anyway, I had booked a session with a driving school to evaluate my mental capacity to drive. To my mind, the instructor was really there to take over if I dissolved into a nervous jelly. Anyway, I drove west along Sherbrooke Street to Decarie. Then it was up Decarie to right onto the Boulevard before turning left onto Grosvenor and right onto Sunnyside. The instructor had been telling me where to turn. However, at that point, I asked if he might indulge a whim and let me turn onto Upper Landsdowne to look at Granny and Grandpa's old house. He was fine with that. The house was still there. Then it was right onto Edgehill Road, back to the Boulevard, left onto Côte des Neiges then a slow drive around Hill Park Circle before returning to where we had started via Côte des Neiges, Dr Penfield and Simpson Street. (The reason I listed the route we took is that with the exception of Hill Park Circle, all these streets are linked to the time I have spent in Westmount with Mummy's side of the family.)

The instructor gave me 10 out of 10 and his two recommendations were trivial. Not that it really mattered to me as I had decided that I was fit to drive around the corner of Sherbrooke and Greene Avenue, that is very early in the drive. I am glad that I spent the time and money to test myself. I am secure in my insecurity.

Afterwards, I walked down to the Guy Metro station and went to the Alexis Nihon Plaza to do some shopping. As I was getting quite tired, I took a taxi home. As we went down the Glen, I saw what I thought was a familiar figure on an unfamiliar bike going up at a reasonable speed. I noted the time. That night I phoned St-Michael the Holy Mole to inquire if it had been him on what I took to be the good bicycle Margo had gently nagged him into buying and to "brag" about having driven a car that day. The Mole had indeed being going up the Glen and was pleased to hear of my progress.

On it being a year to the day

It was a year ago today that my life became very hard. I am still not sure what to think of it. Even now, looking back, I am shocked at how close I was to death. 

I am doing very much better which doesn't really cover the ground I have covered and doesn't address the distance I still have to go. My pains mean I can only walk a very few steps very awkwardly without crutches. I took a taxi to meet St-Michael the Holy Mole at the Greenspot for breakfast. It is at the corner of Notre-Dame and Greene avenue. Afterwards I walked home with a short detour for a strawberry shortcake doughnut. That is about 1.4 km. It felt longer.

My thinking about how my life has gone in the last 366 days has been altered by something I learned on the morning of August 31st. I was woken up by a phone call from the RCMP in Shediac. It seems that the driver (may his name be spat upon) passed away. Apparently he had a heart attack on July 17th and died in the Moncton Hospital where I was initially treated. This removes any obligation to be in Moncton on the 4th of October for his sentencing, not that I was planning to attend anyway. I was a bit stunned by this news, for one thing, it means that I will never know just how sever his sentence would have been. I was still sleepy after I hung up, and pondered scenarios about him being enlisted in Hell's Colonic Brass Band until I fell asleep again.

I know one shouldn't speak ill of the dead but I am having a hard time not doing so. Then again, given the torment he put me through, I believe I am entitled to some rancor.

On what the doctor said

I had an appointment with my orthopedic surgeon on Thursday afternoon. I went to the General quite early with the intent of getting some lunch beforehand. As I went to sit down on a wall bench in the Hospitality Corner bistro, an orderly of colour, got up and moved the table for me. I protested mildly that it was unnecessary, but he said his job was to help the patients. We exchanged pleasantries during which I said that I knew I could not do his job, which he took (as I intended) as a compliment.

After an indifferent club sandwich, I went to the elevator bank, just missing one despite the efforts of the orderly who happened to be waiting there until his next set of duties. I got the next one down and went along to the X-ray department. As waited to be served, I saw an older woman in a wheelchair that was half bed asking ineffectually for help. Nothing loath, I asked her what her problem was. It was simply getting her mobile phone out of her bag.

I had a longish wait to be X-rayed, during which time, I used the washroom. As I was coming out, the same orderly was just outside the door asking me if I needed help. I was confused by this until he told me that I had pulled the emergency call cord. I hadn't realized that I had done so, but given that the washroom wasn't very large whereas I am large and awkward, it was not hard to imagine that I might have done so by accident. I was somewhat embarrassed by this and apologized, despite the orderly saying there was no need to apologize.

Once on the slab in the X-ray room, I was asked to remove the shoe on my left foot. I did so in my current way when lying down by I lifting my leg up and bending my knee. I then hold my foot that position without using my hands. The X-ray technician was impressed with my flexibility, saying he was not that flexible.

Afterwards, I went to the Orthopedics department where I was shown into an examination room very quickly by an orderly or junior doctor who not only remembered me but also the Welsh origin of my last name. The orthopedic surgeon saw me, looked at my X-rays and went "hmm". He was pleased by the progress my tibia had made in healing. However, it still has a way to go so I will be keeping my Taylor spatial frame at least until mid-October.

While I was with him, I asked him for a written authorization to work longer hours. He happily did so. I had to get the document stamped by the receptionist as well as make my next appointment. After doing so, I stood to one side of the reception desk to put the papers in my backpack. The next patient was another older lady in a heavy-duty electric wheelchair with impaired use of her hands. Between the short arms of the receptionist and her limited use of her arms, there was difficulty in hand over the various documents. I offered to help.