Hurghada - Final Update on My Broken Foot

The KFC at Senzo Mall

Well, that’s 2 weeks and 2 days since my plaster came off.

Before going to the UK (4 days post-cast), I’d bought myself some trainers that you do up with Velcro, a size too large, so that my swollen foot would fit in OK (I had to allow room for swelling from the flight as well). I’d identified the ones I wanted to purchase and in the morning of my departure, I went to buy them, only at 11am the shop was still closed. The neighbouring shopkeeper said it would open at 1pm, but at 1pm the owner hadn't yet turned up. By 2pm, I was able to enter the shop. Shops here tend to open late and close only very late in the evening (10pm or 11pm); the Egyptians seem to be night people rather than morning people, which generally suits me fine.

Anyway, before I left for the UK, I’d made it as far as La Piazza Restaurant and back (maybe 10-15 mins normal walk?), but my walking was very slow. Still, it was a lot better than no walking at all and moving around the flat wasn’t a problem. As noted, I’d booked the disability service at the airport.

At Hurghada airport, I was rushed through passport control and security by an airport person – I think this was coincidental – and Hurghada airport is not so large, so I was able to walk without a problem and sat and had a coffee until my flight was boarding.

As I came off the plane in Gatwick, I saw a wheelchair and asked if it was mine, but was told that if I could walk, I should go to the end of the gangway and wait for them there. There were about eight of us who had requested assistance. You have to wait until last, but then you get a little buggy to take you through passport control and to collect your bags and to go through customs, so once you get going, it’s quite quick (but still fairly leisurely and you are still basically last out). It's a good service, though.

Being in the UK was good exercise for me. I walked for the entire first day in Horsham – the most walking I’d done post-cast. It was tiring, but manageable, and still very slow. Pensioners were overtaking me! Still, it was good to be out and about and to see the shops at my own pace.

In fact, I did a lot of walking most of the time I was away and after a while I got a bit frustrated that I never seemed to walk any faster, despite all the practice I was having. I had to concentrate if I didn’t want to limp, as my natural tendency was to hobble rather than to walk properly. I think it’s just that the ball of my foot wasn’t used to exercise and I hoped that by focusing on making sure I walked properly, the appropriate muscles would become more flexible again.

People kept on asking if it hurt and I kept on describing it as uncomfortable rather than hurting, possibly because my definition of “hurting” in my head was the pain when it first broke and any sensation I had was definitely far removed from that initial, excrutiating pain.

However, somewhere along the line, I did start speeding up a bit. One night, near the end, Geraldine and I got caught in the rain and we romped up the road (I felt) and I believe this forced exercise of larger strides actually helped to improve my foot a bit.

I would say that I can now walk at almost normal pace, but my (previously) broken foot is still a little uncomfortable. I can’t complain as the doctor had given me pain killers, and I’ve never needed them. Esmat said he thought I was probably at 80% of my normal capacity, which is a fair guess.

The first test of “normal” life in Egypt was to go to the shopping mall wearing my normal shoes with a small heel / wedge (2 weeks, 2 days post-cast). I happily overtook a couple of pensioners on my way in and felt pretty good about myself (apologies to the pensioners!).

It was really interesting to be in Spinneys again (it was good to lean on the trolley as well!) and I spent a lot of time looking round to reacquaint myself with the shop. I discovered a huge cheese counter and a huge sausage (not pork!) counter, which I’d ignored before as neither item interests me. I looked at the meat counter, but they didn’t have much lamb this time round – next time, maybe. The steak looked pretty good but I had no idea about prices as I never usually buy meat from the counters. That challenge will be for another day. The vegetables were looking better than before, but potatoes didn’t seem to be around – lots of lovely apples, though.

I bought myself my hoover (on special offer!) and a steam cleaner (I always feel my mopping leaves my floor dirtier, somehow). To my surprise, two shop assistants came up and stopped me, took the items out of my trolley, undid everything, tested it, and then put them back in the boxes and back into my trolley. I guess this is a good thing.

There were queues this time at the checkouts and I was getting late for Esmat. As is typical when you are running late, I was told at the checkout that I had to pay for the electrical items at another counter. I never did this for my iron or my insect killer (which broke, by the way). Since I was running late, it was a bit frustrating.

So, off I went to find the correct counter and queued at the wrong end, so was ignored for a while. Eventually, I paid, but was then stopped and told to go to the guarantee counter to get my guarantees stamped. Aaargh! For once, it wasn’t my walking that was holding me up.

By this time, I was running so late, I thought I may as well get myself a loyalty card now. As it turned out, I did things in the wrong order, as I wasn’t able to put on the points retrospectively.

On my way out, I suddenly realised that my grocery shopping was still at the till where I had done my grocery shopping, so I had to go back and transfer all those items back into my trolley with the electrical items. What a hassle!

The good thing, though, was that all this walking was absolutely no problem at all. By the end of it, my foot was starting to hurt, I guess in part due to my normal shoes, and I wasn’t able to keep up with Esmat as he rushed to the car (I learned afterwards that he had a 1.30am pick up and had wanted to get back on time so that he could get some sleep – oh dear!). I had regressed into limping mode, and will return to my trainers for when I need to walk longer distances for now, but really my foot is pretty good.

Each day it gets easier and I think it is even starting to hurt slightly less now as well. I am now feeling confident that in a week or so I will be back to completely normal walking. Here's hoping that I'm right!

El Andalous - Third Day Post Cast

Christmas at El Andalous

I’m sorry to be reporting my progress day by day, as it is probably a bit boring. However, when I searched the web for information as to what it is like when you come out of a cast, and how quickly you can walk again, there was relatively little information available, so I hope that this blog may help others undergoing similar quests for information.

Day Three was spent doing tidying and cleaning. Part of me felt a bit frustrated that I’d spent so much of my time post-cast just doing all these chores; on the other hand, my flat had got into such a state, it was a relief to be able to get it back to some semblance of decent living.

Again, it was another day mostly on my feet, interspersed with exercises, medication, raising my leg above heart level, and ointment! I’d finally finished all I was going to do by 3pm and decided that maybe it was time to try going outside.

So far, I had only experienced my smooth floors in my slippers. Now I would try my flip-flops (I wondered if this would require a different set of foot actions) and the rough surface of outdoors. It was also about time that I went outside of my flat as I was sure that people were thinking it odd that this wasn’t the first thing I did.

Going outside turned out to be quite an eye-opener for me. First of all, I was surprised at how much extra pressure just a slight decline or incline put on my calf. It was definitely a different exercise from being in my flat.

Also, I’d felt I was walking around pretty much at normal speed in my flat, but when I was outside, it was obvious that actually I was very slow! This didn’t bother me, but did make me realise that maybe I wasn’t as super-duper active as I had imagined. I had a slight worry that I would get too tired en route, but actually I could always sit on the wall by the sea, if need be. As it was, I didn’t need to rest, although I was glad when I reached Il Gusto; the ten-minute walk probably took me twenty minutes..

As I sat there sipping my strawberry milkshake (chocolate was off the menu, as was banana for the banana split), Jaqueline and Safi passed by, so they stopped and had a quick chat – so already I am meeting people I know as I go out and about.

When I got up to go back, it was much more of a struggle to get going again than it had been earlier in my flat, which was another sign that this was a new exercise for me (which is good). I slowly warmed up again and I took my time (it was nice to see the sea and the sun setting anyway).

When I got home, I realised that not only was my calf aching, but also my hip and thigh – it was reminiscent of when I relied only on my right leg when I was in plaster and my right leg ached through having to take all the weight. It now felt as if my left leg was taking all the weight, although obviously it was simply doing its fair share of the work. Again, I thought this was a good thing as my body was obviously starting to get back into action, it also brought home to me just how much of the body is affected when one foot is incapacitated. It’s quite remarkable.

The trip outside was enough to make me go online and register for disabled assistance at the airport – if I had to climb the stairs to the plane, everyone would get really impatient at me being so slow! And a wheelchair pickup at Gatwick would be easier than walking for hours at my slow pace. I felt a bit of a fraud, but I thought it nevertheless for the best.

El Andalous - Second Day Post-Cast

Jetty by Il Gusto Beach

The next morning I woke up and felt a slight dread at having to walk when my heel hurt. Again, though, it was short-lived and subsided after the shower.

Today, I was more ambitious and not only unpacked more cartons, but also moved my furniture around as I tried to decide how I would arrange the flat. There wasn’t any point in unpacking my pictures until I knew what I wanted the flat to look like and what was going to go where.

This time, I took very few rests, so I was pretty much on my feet all day and still my foot didn’t hurt. I was so pleased! Of course, I was only on smooth, flat ground, so nothing that ambitious, but it was still better than I could have hoped for. The heel didn’t even hurt any more.

When I rested, again, getting started was difficult and I would have to hobble for a while, but generally, it was all pretty good going.

With the pain in the heel starting to subside, I became aware that the mobility in my foot wasn’t really too bad; it was my calf muscles that were really weak. I had been doing foot exercises at random points through the day and now I decided that actually I should be doing calf stretches, so I added that into the routine as well.

I also began to take my swelling more seriously as I needed to get a shoe on in a few days’ time. I read that the calf’s activity can help to reduce swelling so that gave me a greater impetus to do those calf exercises so that it became more active as soon as possible. I also started to raise my leg above heart level, as so many sites advised. I’d ignored that up to now, but decided if I could get the swelling down this way, maybe it would be easier then to keep the swelling down longer-term. I have to say, I wasn’t convinced that the raised leg really helped, but at least I felt I was doing all I could do to help myself.

I tried on a shoe at one point, but it would be too painful, particularly if you add a flight and extra swelling on top. Even on my OK foot, the shoe was a bit constrictive – I guess I’m not really used to it any more, having been in flip-flops most of the time before my injury. My feet are broad at the best of times and my mum always used to say that I shouldn’t go round in bare feet because it would just make them even broader and then it would be impossible for me to get shoes! Anyway, shoes can be problematic to start with, so with the swelling, it was going to be even more difficult.

On the whole, though, I thought I did extremely well to be on my feet for most of the day with no real pain to report. The evening, of course, I rested, in various poses with my leg at various heights. I was determined to get a shoe on at some point, somehow!

El Andalous - First Day Without Plaster

View of Sahl Hasheesh from El Andalous Rooftop

I woke up the next morning and my instant reaction was to reach out for the crutches. And then I realised I didn’t need them! I tentatively got out of bed. Again, my heel was hurting a lot, protesting, I think, that it had been overused in the last five weeks. I hobbled painfully – because of the heel – towards the bathroom and had my first shower in six weeks (I’d had the other plaster before as well).

I was relieved not to have to go through the palaver of tying the bag round my leg, sticking it out of the shower and worrying that it would get wet. I looked at the bag in the bathroom and realised I could now throw it away, but I didn’t want to tempt fate.

Even with the cast and even in normal life, I always found myself more able-bodied after washing, and this was no different. My body had warmed up and got itself into action while I was in the shower, so when I got out, my walking was really pretty easy.

My flat was dirty and untidy after all that time of minimal care, so rather than explore outside, as everyone expected me to do, I started on sorting out my flat. I unpacked about eight of my shipment cartons and it was a relief to be able to use two hands again. Having a broken foot means more than just the loss of the foot!

Not having exercised for some time, I got tired easily, although my foot felt fine, so I took a rest once an hour. My foot was occasionally a bit uncomfortable in certain positions, but I can’t say it was really painful at all and I was walking around and carrying things quite happily.

I felt blessed and it also felt like a miracle that my bone could heal itself. I marvelled at how brilliant my body was.

I washed my foot, as advised, and more and more dead skin fell off. Where the plaster had been, my leg was a weird combination of no hairs on the left-hand side and excess hair growth on the right-hand side. The bottom of my foot looked like arid mud with hairline cracks everywhere and the part of the leg without hair looked flaky and a bit tender, so I handled it with care, moisturising my foot and my leg afterwards.

The ointment I was prescribed felt wonderful on my foot. I can’t say I really notice it making any difference to the swelling, but it felt very beneficial when I applied it.

Each time after I rested, it was hard to get started again, and I would always feel the pain in my heel at first and I would have to hobble until my body adjusted itself. On the whole, though, I was proud about how much time I’d spent on my feet and how well it had all gone. 

I unpacked my scales and weighed myself – to my delight, I’ve lost one stone (c. 7 kg) since I’ve been here. I must now be near to my medically ideal BMI.

As I was making my supper, my taxi driver texted me to ask how I was doing; it was good to feel that people were interested in my well-being.

All in all, there was a lot to be happy about.

Hurghada - Cast Off!

Egyptian Pillars With Sunken City in Distance, Sahl Hasheesh

And so the day finally came where I could potentially have my cast removed from my foot. I couldn’t really quite imagine what it would be like to wake up the next morning without it; I had no idea how mobile I would be.

As it was, the whole day was going to be a bit manic. I had workmen due to come at 11am to fit mosquito netting doors to my balcony so that I could keep my doors open at night without getting bitten, and fans were to be installed in my lounge, bedroom, and balcony. I was feeling a bit stressed about that as well, since I hadn’t seen the fans and I felt I was buying them in blind faith.

The workmen came, but as it came to 13:30, I got increasingly worried about getting to my taxi on time for 2pm and was not sure what I would do about the workmen while I was not there. The foreman said he would oversee them and make sure everything was safe. Since he was due to do a lot of work in our block, I decided it was to his advantage to ensure nothing was stolen, so I metaphorically closed my eyes and hoped for the best.

My other dilemma was over what footwear to bring with me to the hospital. I decided a flip-flop wasn’t sturdy enough; I couldn’t wear heels as that would be too much pressure for my foot; I had some new flat shoes, but I thought they could be a bit tight, especially if my foot was swollen. In the end, I plumped for a trainer and socks, since the trainer was supportive and if I couldn’t put it on, I would at least have a sock to wear.

My taxi driver came – in his new car! – promptly at 2pm and I arrived on time at the hospital. This was the first time I’d been to the hospital on a proper working day (rather than on a Friday) and it was noticeably busier. The guy on the desk was friendlier and considerately brought all the forms over to me that I had to fill in and he arranged for someone to take me to the doctor in a wheelchair.

I worried as I sat waiting for my doctor, as there seemed to be another doctor there who didn’t speak much English. I wanted to have the same consultant as I’d had before – he was young, pleasant, witty, and could speak good English. And, of course, he knew exactly what I’d been through. Eventually, my consultant came in with the other doctor and I felt a wave of relief.

He asked me to get up on the bed, although both he and the nurse seemed very alarmed when I stood up and they warned me to be careful, but actually I’ve got to be a dab hand at standing up using my right foot only and couldn’t see what they were fussing about.

The doctor informed me he would take off the plaster – they all call it Gips here, as in German, and I’m not sure why. Perhaps they’ve just found that everyone understands that, maybe it is called Gips in Russian and/or Arabic (I find that hard to believe)? Anyway, everyone calls it Gips and I understand what they mean, so it doesn’t really matter.

What alarmed me was that he said he would take off the plaster and then get me another foot. My first thought was that he meant that he would take off the plaster and then replace it with a foot-only plaster or sturdy shoe. I had been hoping today would be the end of it! After a while more of thinking, though, I realised that he may have meant another x-ray of my foot.

Meanwhile, he took out a circular saw and started sawing through my plaster. I was extremely thankful that I’d read about this on the internet, where people said not to be alarmed because it is a special saw that can’t actually cut you, or I would have been completely petrified. Looking at the saw, it didn’t look any different from a real saw, it had a convincingly sturdy and sharp appearance, and even though I knew it couldn’t hurt me, a part of me wasn’t wholly convinced. However, it was true, even when it touched my skin, it just felt warm and that was about it, really.

I was fascinated to be reunited with the bottom half of my leg and my foot. To my surprise, my leg looked pretty OK. It wasn’t even particularly hairy, maybe just at the top, and it didn’t look wasted either. In fact, strangely, the left-half of my leg was devoid of hair. My foot was swollen, but not as badly as the last time, and my toes looked a bit wasted where they joined the foot. I couldn’t smell anything, so that was also a relief. Overall, I was pretty pleased. It looked like a foot with toes on.

We then went to X-Ray, which confirmed my later thought of what “getting another foot” meant, and I started to feel a bit more positive. Again, everyone seemed very worried as soon as I tried to get from the bed back to the wheelchair, even though I was feeling confident in my manoeuvres. The nurse kept on telling me I was a “very brave woman”. This is what they kept on telling me each time on my first visit whenever they were about to do something very painful to me or if they were unable to help my pain. I began to hate that phrase and really I had no desire to be brave. This time, though, there wasn’t anything to be brave about. I’m not mocking the nurse, though; she was extremely pleasant and made a huge effort to talk to me and keep me happy. Top marks to her!

When I was in X-Ray, I had a quiet moment to myself where I had the opportunity to examine my foot more carefully. Shocked, I found that the actual wound was still very visible as a gash; I guess when a wound is not exposed to air, it doesn’t recover as quickly. I also hadn’t realised it was quite so large. The last time I saw it, it just looked like a little slit.

Then I was whisked off in the wheelchair (“you’re a brave woman”) to another room, where the consultant explained that my foot had healed very strongly. I can’t explain how relieved I was. He said my major problem was my swelling. My heart sank as I dreaded him telling me that I needed a few more injections. However, instead, he said that I had to put a cream on my foot three times a day, bathe it in warm water three times a day, take tablets three times a day, and then take painkillers if and when I needed them. He advised me not to be worried if the foot hurt every now and then as this was normal. I asked if I could walk and he said it was absolutely not a problem; it was just my ligaments that needed to be brought back up to par.

While waiting for the medications, I put on my sock, which was actually quite difficult and a little bit painful to do, so I gave up on the idea of putting on my trainer. My sock would have to do.

I had been delighted to hear I could walk, but was also a bit confused when they still wanted to take me to reception in the wheel chair and didn’t want me to walk on my crutches out of the building. Was I OK or was I not OK? I was also surprised that they didn’t insist that I pay this time. My insurance had actually requested that I pay up front because it was easier for them, but I was wheeled outside before I knew what was happening and by then I just couldn’t be bothered. I felt I had already paid enough up front and had gone through enough trauma.

On the way back, I needed to stop to get money out. My taxi driver encouraged me to try putting my foot on the ground, which I did. To my surprise, I felt no pain at all. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to experiment with my foot in a public place, so I still took it carefully and didn’t put any weight on my foot. I got back in the taxi and I arrived back to the apartment with the two security guards cheering as I came in!

The workmen were still in my flat, which was a bit frustrating as I wanted to bathe my foot and start experimenting with it a bit. However, it was good to see the progress and the fans looked better once they were up than when they were in the boxes. Everything was slowly coming together.

As I walked round to inspect everything, I started to experiment a bit, placing increasing pressure on my foot. After about fifteen minutes, I finally plucked up the courage to try walking without the crutches, and actually this was OK! It didn’t hurt, at least not where I had been wounded, although I couldn’t walk fluently and I was scared of overdoing it. Still, I could get about, and without pain, which was more than I could have hoped for. I didn’t dare keep it up for too long, though.

Finally, the workmen left, and I could experiment a bit more on my own. I wandered round the flat trying to assess how my foot felt and whether I was hobbling because I needed to or whether it was just habit. I tried to move my foot naturally rather than automatically trying to keep it in the position it had been in whilst it was in the cast. Obviously, my foot doesn’t have as much movement and flexibility as it had before, not yet at any rate, but it was still doing well, I reckoned.

I got a bowl of water to bathe my foot and, of course, now I had two hands free to carry it, so that was already progress. Maybe I will have another Sitz bath yet (not that I need it)! A lot of gunk came off my foot as I bathed it – I guess mostly from the bandage, but also dead skin. Although the doctor had made quite a fuss about it being swollen, I really didn’t think it was too bad. My taxi driver had suggested that I do some exercises with the foot when it was in the water and that this may be better than walking in the first instance, so I also tried that.

I am still sitting with my foot up, as recommended by the doctor, and in any case I often sit like that anyway. At the moment, it’s my heel that hurts most, which is surprising, because I’ve relied on my heel a lot over the last five weeks, but maybe it’s overworked and is bruised and I just hadn't noticed with all my other challenges.

I now have five days for my foot to get as well as possible before I fly to the UK!