8 and a 1/2 weeks

Well, I'm at that tricky 8 and a 1/2 week mark. Well, actually, it's not tricky at all, just flippin boring. The knee is getting stronger all the time - and I've even started some light jogging (more like shuffling, but beggars - or a least people recovering from knee injuries - can't be choosers, I find), swimming and cycling. You see? The fun never stops when you've got a dodgy knee.

I went to my first physio gym class this morning, too. It's fun, man. Basically, about 16 palpably unfit people with 'lower limb' injuries, puff and wheeze their way around an assortment of exercises and stretches, all to a selection of mega hits CDs that always include 'Don't Stop Moving' by S Club 7. It's kind of like circuits for beginners, dude.

You do knee weight stretches, hamstring catches (it feels like my life is one long hamstring catch at the moment), jogging around cones, jumping over a skipping rope (woo hoo!), hopping on a trampet (which isn't actually a trumpet for tramps, alas), balancing on a wobble board, cycling on an ancient exercise bike, walking up and down some fake steps and, my least favourite, a totally pointless wobble-board-esque maze game, where you have to wiggle your feet to get a little red ball into the middle of a blue plastic maze, and out again (see pic).

Still, it's good for the knee, and that's what counts. I actually feel more confident at the moment than I thought I would. I still haven't got the full range of movement back (I do these pull-your-foot-to-your-bum quad stretches and I can't quite touch my bum but it's coming - I can feel it), but I'm running a bit, hopping and jumping around, and all in all what more could I ask for? Apart from turning out for the Street and banging in my first goal for the club, of course.

Incidentally, I've had some freakishly vivid dreams about doing just that. The dream goes something like this: Street are desperate for players, I turn up late to watch but get convinced to make an early come back. The results vary: either my knee collapses within 30 seconds, or I play a blinder at the back, jumping and diving (and fouling, of course) and we scrape a 1-0 win.

Last night's dream involved a Union Street trip to Argentina, where I was one of the designated drivers. We went to the town of 100 churches (does one even exist? I'd like to know), which was called Kirchen, naturally enough. Very Argentinian name, I thought. What could it all mean?

7 weeks

It's been seven weeks since the operation. Potentially 30 weeks to go. If I do well. Woo hoo! No, seriously (and when am I ever not serious?), apparently I'm making good progress. Saw the nice physio today and she prodded and rubbed and made me stretch in ways that I didn't want to, and she said it was looking good. Hoorah!

I've actually been to the hospital twice this week, and I'm still trying to work out why. I was booked in for this Tuesday immediately after my operation, apparently to see the main consultant dude. But obviously he was too busy and important so I saw a physio, who also prodded a bit and said that my scar was healing nice and lovely, and showed me an x-ray of the bits of metal that now live in my knee.

But then I saw my usual physio on today (though it seems like last week for some reason, think it's because I've been TOO BUSY of late), who I'm sure could have done exactly what the other physio did on Tuesday. Good old efficient, money-saving NHS, eh?

I've been given some more exercises to do. You'd think they would have run out of different things to do with the knee by now, but no. I've got some more stretches, more bends and more balancing stuff to get on with, and I can start to work towards running and swimming and all kinds of all-action SHIT like that, man.

The physios said that I'm to massage my leg to help the numb patch on my shin, and to help the scar heal good. Any offers?

Gyms

Went to the gym for the first time in two months yesterday. Thought I might as well get used to the place - I'll be spending the next nine or so months there, after all. Funny places, gyms. Funny word, too. A bit like pygmy, but different. Gotta love a y in the wrong place.

Like I was saying, they're funny places. Everyone wears an iPod, usually awkwardly strapped to their arm like one of those pumpy-air-pressure-measuring things. Yesterday was the first time I was able to join these super-healthy, bouncy-jogging, iPod-wearing hoards in their natural environment. Alas, I was sans arm strap, but I still felt, like, cool man - though that was before I had to fumble around getting the headphones up under my t-shirt, and then to stay in my ears when I got on the treadmill.

That's when I realised that everyone who wears an iPod down the gym has a curious musical cacophany accompanying their huffing and puffing. You see, unless you've got some big, fancy, cover-the-ears-and-go-round-the-back headphones, you'll get a faintly infuriating blend coming through your earhole - the distant beat and hum of one of your favourite songs combined with the slightly more prominent bleat and blare of MTV DANCE HITS MEGA ANTHEMS ALL DAY SUNDAY.

I turned up the volume on my so-tiny-I-can't-find-it-in-my-shorts (fnar) iPod to no avail - and then spent most of the time sticking my tiny little ear pieces as far into my ear as they'd go without drawing blood, just to block out PUT YOUR HANDS UP PUT YOUR HANDS UP FOR DETROIT.

So, iPods aren't as cool down the gym as I thought. Not that I ever really thought they were cool. Just poncey. Seems I got that right - though it was nice, when MTV DANCE gave it a bit of a rest or I was positioned away from one of the gigantic speakers, to hear The Beatles or Sigur Ros or whatever, as I PUMPED IRON / FELT THE BURN / WONDERED WHAT THE HELL I WAS DOING IN THE GYM ON A BRIGHT SUNDAY MORNING.

Back to the gym - I was testing the ol' knee out, so I did some up-hill treadmill walking which felt pretty good. Then I thought I'd give cycling a bash - the physio said I could try it on a zero resistance setting, just to get used to it. It wasn't all that easy. I had to get on the bike first - the limited movement in the leg made that hard, but doable.

But moving the pedals round was a very different kettle of difficult bananas altogether - I very tentatively and weedily went as fast as I could, but then the machine started on-screen yelling at me PEDAL FASTER. I'm trying! PEDAL FASTER. Give me a break! GOING INTO STANDBY MODE. You heartless bastard!

Didn't that crummy little machine know hard I was trying? Nothing like kicking a man when he's down. Useless piece of plastic get-fit CRAP. It's just jealous it's not a REAL bike that can, like, go outside and go down hills and get muddy and splash in puddles and everything. Wanker.

Therapy

Well, it's not broken. I saw the physio on Thursday and she told me to stop being such a pansy. It's very unlikely that I'll break my new ligament (unless I do something stupid like playing football), and if I did I'd know about it - it'd bleedin hurt. Incidentally, I had a dream this week that I went to play football for the Street with my dodgy knee, because we were so short of players. I was terrified. I'm even dreaming of playing football, how silly.

The physio also gave me some brand new exercises to brighten up my days - hamstring catches, standing on one leg with my eyes closed, straight leg raises that hurt your bum - all that kind of palarver. (God, anyone know how to spell that word? Answers below, please.) She said it all seemed OK - I can't swim or run or anything horrible like that yet, but at least I know I'm heading in the right direction. A weight off the ol' proverbial.

Anyway, it's a BLOODY BEAUTIFUL DAY. What the hell am I doing writing this? I'm going to bugger off around that Oxford, look at some trees, gaze at the sky, and cross my fingers that Union Street, Swindon Town and Liverpool all win...

Turps

Operations, they're bleedin hilarious, aren't they? Some half-wit attacks your leg with a pen-knife and some turps, and then leaves you in the hands of physiotherapists who tell you to do dozens of exercises that redefine tedious and remind you that your once-fully-functioning leg can now do no more than bend very stiffly about 45 degrees before shooting PAIN appears where once you had hamstrings.

Oh dear, think I had a bad day. I shouldn't take it out on those heroes in the NHS. Love those dudes, man. They're just awesome, with their white coats, painkillers and friendly knee-surgery ways. Kiss them all week.

It's a long haul, this ACL reconstruction business. My leg seems to ache in new ways every day - hamstrings, thighs, calves, knee cap... And all the while I'm paranoid that I'm gonna bugger up all the good NHS-inspired work and have to go in for another operation. I've been told I can bend my leg but not twist it - and you'd be surprised how often you want to twist your leg. Every time I do, I can imagine my new ligament snapping off and it gives me the shivers. Got to think positively.

I'm driving, though, and walking about - stairs are fun. I take each step at a time and it takes me ages. People walking with me get bored and wait for me at the bottom. I used to be a bit of a bounder, a three-steps-at-a-time man, so it's a bit of a shock.

Anyway, I should be doing my exercises - good GOD they bore me senseless. All is not lost, though - Swindon Town got a last minute equaliser tonight, and Oxford United got beat again last night. Hoorah.

Physio

These are the knee and leg exercises I've been given to do. Nice drawings, eh? I love his big hair. Taken from the rather lovely blue physio book the hospital gave me. The exercises below are for the first two weeks after the ACL reconstruction operation.

Calf stretch. "Move the foot up and down from the ankle to maintain good circulation in the leg." Easy-peasy.

Extension exercises. "Sit on a firm surface and fully straighten your knee. To help the knee go straighter, tighten the front thigh muscles. Pull your foot towards your face and at the same time brace your knee down onto the floor. Hold for 5-10 seconds." This isn't as easy as it looks / sounds.

Knee bends. "Slide heel up and down a firm surface, bending and straightening the knee." This isn't all that easy, either. To begin with, my knee didn't go much past 90 degrees, and it still doesn't go all the way, I think because of the swelling and general stiffness.

Standing knee bend. "Stand upright, bend operated knee, bring heel to your bum. Lower the foot slowly back into a straight position." I was told not to do this one striaght away, because there's no support for the leg. Frustratingly, I can't currently get my leg past 90 degrees, and I feel tightness in the front thigh, knee and hamstrings.

Static hamstring stretch. "With the knee very slightly bent, push the heel into the floor and hold for 5-10 seconds." I feel this one in my now-puny hamstrings.

Thigh co-contraction exercises. "With your knee bent over a bottle [preferably a full 2 litre fizzy drink bottle or something, mine's Sainsbury's own brand cola. Nice] wrapped in a towel, push the heel down into the floor, and push the knee down into the bottle at the same time, keeping the pressure on the heel. No knee movement should occur. Hold for 5-10 seconds." This involves contracting the quads and hamstrings at the same time, and is a bit difficult at first...

Roads

Blimey, windy innit? Just the sort of day you wanna go down the A420 and get stuck behind a swaying lorry, I shouldn't wonder. Ah, the A420. Where would Swindon be without it? The best thing to come out of Oxford, ha ha. Home of Shrivenham, Kingston Bagpuize and the Botley Interchange. Not forgetting, of course, a rather far-off view of the White Horse at Uffington (incidentally, one of my top five places in the universe - I'll be sure to tell you the other four at some point).

Where was I? Oh yes, on my way to Oxford for my physio appointment, two weeks after my ACL operation. I'd almost forgotten why I was writing this blog, for a moment. The appointment passed without comment, save a few expletives from my Dad about the A34 (which would lose hands-down to the 420 in a Battle Of The A Roads), and some soothing words from the physiotherapist.

She (physios are always a she, it seems, not that I'm complaining - softer hands, you see) gave me some more exercises (some like these, but nothing quite as fun as this alas), which mostly involved balancing a bit, stretching my leg / hamstring / knee much more than I'd like, and one which involves getting a big bottle and putting it under your knee and pressing down til you yelp. The physio said I had lovely calves, and was impressed with how far back my good leg went. Always useful, I find.

She said I could do some gentle swimming (I refrained from telling her that swimming is satan's physiotherapy). She also said I could do some upper-body weights down the gym if I wanted, go for a bit of a walk, and generally stop being quite so much of a loaf. Apparently, it's twisting the leg that I need to avoid (presumably so that the new ligament doesn't twist off), but straight leg movements are dandy. The knee is still a bit swollen, so I need to keep it raised and iced, and try to do these new exercises three times a day. That should be fun.

I don't know why I'm boring you with all this detail, but there's bugger all else to tell you. Oh, I've shaved my beard off, so I'm officially a beard-wuss. I think there's a critical stage in beard growth where the itchyness / gingerness / twattishness is at its peak - if you can get through it, you'll be the proud owner of a distinguished, non-twatty, non-itchy, nice-coloured beard. Alas, I gave up. I couldn't stand looking like Mr Twit any longer. Beards are for Christians and ale-drinkers, anyway.

But all is not lost, my hair gets more MAHOOSIVE by the day. It's at least two-foot tall, now. With my new poncey tweed jacket, I could fit in at Oxford Brookes University easily. I might even get a student discount on my train fare. Worth a shot, surely?

Ramblings

It's been seven days since my op - this time last week I was babbling incoherently to some poor chap opposite me in the recovery ward. Gawd knows what I was saying (off my bonce on anaesthetic you see), but he gave me one of those polite smiles that told me I was being a fool.

Incidentally, anaesthetic's a bluddy larf, innit? I dunno how much they gave me, but I lost four hours of my life, and I was proper groggy afterwards. Could barely chew a digestive. And then I got the shivers - I was chatterin and jumpin til they put about eight blankets on me. A couple of hours later they complained that I had a temperature - that bed was a warm and sweaty place, let me tell you.

Anyway, I'm nearly off crutches now, though I still haven't really done more than walk up and down the stairs. I get occasional pangs up my hamstrings, and inside the knee, and I have a weird numb patch on my shin, too. I can't bend the knee much past 90 degrees, though that's normal I think. I'm taking the dressings and steri-strips off on Monday, when I'll get to see what state my knee's in. I'm still taking painkillers and stuff, and just getting as much rest as I can.

So what have I learned this past week?
- Your toes go numb if you sit around with your leg up all day
- I have two and a half days of music in iTunes
- If someone rips out your hamstrings, it hurts afterwards
- It's still embarrassing to watch sex scenes on telly with your parents in the same room
- A flight to Thailand in April could cost £450
- You can get 10 hours of sleep a night and still feel tired
- Baths are not as good as showers
- There's a football team called the Swindon Badgers
- Nurses are great
- I shouldn't watch Liverpool play Arsenal
- Alex Cobham should keep his trap shut

I've learnt more than that, I'm sure. Hmmm. I'll write more tomorrow...

Exercises

It's pretty boring, this staying-at-home-and-waiting-for-your-knee-to-get-better lark. For those that want to know about these things, my knee is pretty stiff, but not too painful. I can put weight on it, which actually makes things more frustrating - I've been told I need to rest it properly, so I can't go gadding about into, err, Swindon.

They've given me some exercises to do, which look a bit like these, but with better drawings. Basically, they involve sitting down and contracting my fast-disappearing leg muscles. The new ligament is apparently at its strongest immediately after the operation (cos it's still got oxygen pumping around it or summat), but then it gets weaker after two weeks, so I'll need to make sure I don't overdo it.

I'll see the physio in two weeks and then step up the exercises, and go back to work. All the stuff I've read online seems to suggest I'll be playing football again after about 8 to 12 months. It seems like ages away, but I'm determined to turn out for the Street before the year's out. In the meantime, I've got a whole lot of tedious swimming and other physio-crap to be getting on with.