I had my appointment today at the Orthotics in the Box Hill Hospital outpatients. This had made me laught when I got the notification of this appointment back in October last year. I feel strange going to the hospital for the first time since Ian's passed away - I don't really count the time I went into emergency there and had some morphine and drifted the day away.
Apparently, my ankle damage is only usually seen in athletes, and for those of you who know me, you will know thats is the last thing I would ever be. I just expected to be sent away and told to put up with the pain. Oh no, that isn't what is happening at all. Firstly, I have to have an MRI on both ankle - these have to be booked a day apart as Medicare doesn't let here be two such scans in one day. Then I go back to outpatients to see the surgeon again. Meantime, I take my old shoe inserts off a place in Ringwood where they will assess if they can use them for this new condition (the old ones were made ofr a heel spur many years ago). Also I have very tight calf muscles which is genetic - thanks again Mum and Dad. High blood pressure and being short sighted obviously wasn't enough! I am supposed to book for physiotherapy but I'll wait and see on that.
So, rats really.