I am beginning to feel like one of those melodramatic characters in fiction who take to their beds and are still there 30 years later.
I have been confined to bed since mid- February after a moment’s inattention: I hooked a toe under a rug and over I went, breaking and dislocating my left ankle, and changing my life for ever.
I made a thorough job of it, and had to begin life in bed, because the foot was not weight-bearing, even in a cast, and so I was forbidden use of crutches or Zimmer frame. I had carers four times a day, from Home First, part of our wonderful NHS, which cares for people just out of hospital. I had a commode by the bed.
I am fairly pragmatic and resilient, and made my mind up in hospital to accept the situation, since it could not be avoided; 20 years of ME/chronic fatigue syndrome has taught me about acceptance. I had spent a lot of time in bed resting because of it – so the situation was not entirely new.
You cannot fight something like ME: there is no drug therapy; rest, as you wait for it to lift, is the only recourse. Some are completely bedbound by it.
There is no point wasting precious energy raging against your fate, and I took the same attitude to my present predicament. I have some lovely local friends, without whom life would be a lot more difficult, who are doing my shopping and laundry.
I began to think about the nature of this life in bed. I quickly realised a good mental hinterland is a great asset. Modern technology is essential: broadband, the internet and a smartphone have been my mainstays.
I am able to conduct much of my life via the laptop: financial dealings in and out of my account, buying stuff and entertainment through free streaming channels such as iPlayer and ITVX.
I write fiction – the laptop has enabled me to go on with this. DAB radio and the ability to download programmes to my smartphone are great assets.
I use the laptop to follow my cricket team, Middlesex, because the BBC website offers ball-by-ball coverage of county matches. Test Match Special it is not, but it’s a great diversion – at least while my team are winning.
My ankle has improved enough for me to have an orthopaedic boot fitted, which allows it to be weight-bearing. So, with two Zimmers, upstairs and downstairs, and a stairlift, I can get around the house, and in particular to the bathroom. I can now have a shower.
This has made me contemplate what my future life will be like. I will always need a boot of some sort – hopefully a lighter one. I have realised life in bed is not so bad.
I was already housebound, with severe peripheral neuropathy as a side effect of chemotherapy. This has also prevented plates from being inserted into the ankle, because the risk of infection is so much greater – so a boot it is.
I am having two visits a day from private carers. I want to return to cooking and cleaning for myself, since such care is unaffordable long-term.
My life has changed fundamentally, but not necessarily all for the worse. I am positive about it.
