On reaching the peak, I was delighted to see a rather impressive looking rock, which beckoned me to scale it's majestic cliff in order to celebrate our arrival before beginning our descent. We sat there for a while, taking in the incredible view and the fact that there wasn't another soul in sight for miles around. It was around this time that I started to worry slightly about how I was going to get down again, and dare I say it had a slightly bad feeling that getting off this rock was not going to be as easy as getting on it.
With an increasing feeling that something bad was about to happen, I shuffled my way to the edge of the rock where my partner had successfully alighted and put one foot down onto a small ledge before pushing off and landing on both feet.
SNAP.
We looked at each other. The members at my gym flashed through my mind as I realised I probably wouldn't be training next week. Then I wished i hadn't joked about being air rescued by HRH on our way up, or that he'd probably be too busy planning his wedding to come and save me anyway.
The night was closing in and as we huddled together in the freezing Scottish air, I thanked my lucky stars for facebook. Had it not been for facebook, I probably wouldn;t have thought twice about leaving my phone in the car, and instead took it with me so I could take a picture to post for my friends.
Following a number of discussions with various rescue providers, we managed to establish where we were and that the likelihood of anyone reaching us by foot in the next hour, let alone stretchering me down again, was slim to none. By this point it was pitch black and, waiting for the helicoptor to come and find us, we chatted about our goals for the next year and beyond. It's funny how situations like that make you realise how much someone means to you. I wouldn't have wanted to be there with anybody else.
Anyway, 50 minutes later, both shaking uncontrollably, the victorious sight of the chopper drawing in over Loch Lomond appeared, and the nervous feeling that we might be there all night began to subside. They flew in, and then flew out, three times, as we frantically waved my iphone and took pictures with flash to try and get their attention.
After what seemed like ages, the helicoptor finally shone it's huge headlight over us and, with deafening reassurance, settled down on the hilltop just behind the rock. I was so elated that we would be leaving said hilltop that I didn't even care that there was no HRH (obviously too busy planning his wedding) or that the paramedic whacked my ankle with his bag as he eagerly came to help me. Seriously though, these guys were amazing, and I don't like to imagine what would have happened had they not been there. It started to snow shortly after we flew off to Glasgow Southern General...
Being in the helicoptor was amazing and something I've always wanted to do. We even got to fly with the doors open, wind rushing in, looking over the lights of Glasgow as we made our way to hospital.
It was probably a good thing that I wasn't aware of the horrors that were about to unfold before me by way of three very awake manipulations to try and straighten out my dislocated and broken in 3 places ankle before my operation the next day. If I had been aware, I may well have hobbled away from the entrance of A&E and taken my chances on one leg. However, thanks to incredible support, I managed to smile and chat my way through the whole procedure as the surgeon pushed, shoved, beat (ok so now I'm exaggerating) my ankle back into shape. When he'd finished, I felt as though my leg had died and was levitating up towards leg heaven - up and out through the ceiling.
And then I cried. A lot.
Fortunately, whilst not quite the romantic breakfast we had planned for our last morning in Scotland, the following day's operation went smoothly, and I emerged from over 3 hours of surgery feeling high as a kite on morphine. The x-rays confirmed that I probably wouldn't be partaking in the gym's 'Grim' running team in two weeks time, and my surgeon explained that it would be a likely 12-18 month period before I would be running again. 'Now there's a challenge,' I thought.
And so, to the purpose of this blog. I am now 1 week into my 6 weeks in plaster, before the rehab process starts in earnest. I am already spending two 15 minute sessions a day on the Tens machine, which activates the muscle fibres in my leg and will hopefully reduce the amount of muscle atrophy I'll experience whilst I can't weight bear. I'm also doing some very simple bodyweight leg flexion, extension, adduction and abduction exercises to maintain as muscle strength as possible, although having been very sick for the last week I'm having to take it easy.
Incidentally, it is interesting to note just how sick all the drugs I have been given has made me. I came off all painkillers after 3 days, unable to bear the nausea any longer, and the pain has been surprisingly tolerable. It's really confirmed to me that wherever possible people are better off without medication and to just support the immune system through good nutrition. Talking of which, my diet is now geared 100% to healing, and I am supplementing with vitamin C, D and K, as well as Kaprex, Bromelain and echinacea.
Over the coming weeks and months I'll be keeping my blog updated on my rehab, the Phoenix Pro way.
12 months?! I'll show that surgeon :-)
Charlotte
Owner
Phoenix Pro Fitness
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