Not the Mog Blog

Here is the news (and this time it’s NOT about my ankle)… we are selling the Mog. Yes, you heard it here first, the big yellow Unimog is 4 SALE!!

There are a number of reasons for selling the old girl, but briefly, we want to spend a lot more time in Europe just tootling about and the Mog is not the vehicle to do that in. It uses way too much fuel and is not much chop in hill towns and cobbled lanes. Plus there is the obvious fact that I can’t drive the thing, especially now that I have a dodgy ankle.

The decision was made pre ankle breaking, in Morocco actually. We have really taken to the whole camper-van lifestyle, and have now bought a suitable retired persons old motorhome – a 1990 Hymer, with lots of space but not too big.

Our New Home in Pete & Kath's Driveway

If we ever get out of Wales, we’ll spend about 2 years pottering around Europe, focussing on wine regions, and Eastern Europe. Driving back to Australia eventually is a whole different story, more on that later.

In further news, we have won our battle with the Allianz. My wonderful surgeon wrote them a stern letter with his views on their proposed treatment and they smartly changed their minds, so we are £8,700 better off, PHEW.

I now have cast number 6 on my leg and this one stays on for 2 weeks, then I get my weight-bearing cast. 2 further weeks on that I think, then I get a boot (black leather, small stiletto??) that I can walk in and hopefully ditch the crutches soon after. That’s when the physio starts. As you can see we will be hanging around here for some time.

Cast No. 6

I now have a plate and 11 screws in my ankle, I’m thinking of entering it in the Guinness Book of Records.

The weather is still very dodgy with the temperature struggling most days to get into double figures. If the sun does shine, a cold cold north wind drives us back inside. Oh for those lazy days sitting in the sun in Spain drinking wine!!!

Plastered Again

Well I’ve had a really exciting week!! On Wednesday I got a new plaster cast, slightly less cumbersome than the previous one. It’s amazing what constitutes excitement when you are house bound.

Number 4 (but who's counting)

Also I had to rescue a spider on one leg (me, not the spider) from the bath which was quite a balancing act as he didn’t want to be rescued.

I’ve been researching nutrition and supplement requirements for healing broken bones and the good new is that I need to eat a lot. As someone who loves to eat, this was music to my ears. So far I haven’t put on any weight – watch this space. Fortunately I can’t weigh myself, and I’m living in stretchy track pants, so I may be kidding myself. I think I’m entitled to some self-delusion.

Next specialist appointment is Wednesday next week, so I will get another new cast then – that’ll be number 5!!!

Hold tight for the next exciting instalment.

The Accidental Tourist

Sorry to bang on about my ankle, BUT… really my whole life at the moment is all about my right leg.

After 4 HOURS of surgery, my wonderful surgeon has basically replaced the hardware from Spain with the Best of British. The fibula had to be lengthened, the tibia stuck back together and the talus had to be straightened.

I am now sporting the world’s largest and heaviest plaster cast, designed I think to stop me leaping about too much and therefore am housebound. The weather is still crap so doesn’t matter too much and I’m working my way through Kath’s extensive library.

Now that's what you call a cast!!

Lawrence is of course waiting on me, he doesn’t have much choice, poor boy. I’m sure there will be pay back to come.

We are hoping the Allianz will come to the party re payment for the surgery, as my specialist nearly had a fit when I told him that they proposed to fly my home to Australia for the corrective surgery (“putting your life at risk!”), so we now have clout on our side and some weapons in the background such as the Australian Medical Board, and of course solicitors if necessary for a negligence case.

Nothing further to report.

Small but tasteful presents are always appreciated, although not necessary. Thanks Sandie for the flowers!!!

 

Breaking News ...

Excuse the pun, but I do have further news re the broken bones. 

I'm going into hospital again tomorrow for some corrective surgery. Seems the emergency surgeon in spain didn't quite get it right which will cause problems down the road such as arthritis and the potential for ankle fusion surgery down the track. 

Some new british hardware will be installed and I'll be back to square one, another 6 weeks on crutches with a mulitcultural right leg. As you can imagine, I'm not really happy about this outcome, but don't have much choice.

To add insult to injury, we are now arguing with the insurers. Unti now they have been great, but are refusing to pay for private surgery in the UK and want to send me home and throw me into the public health system. No way, José!!

Holiday Snaps

Our dear long suffering friends, Pete and Kath will be stuck with us for some time, and we are stuck with Welsh weather. 

Please send alcohol.

My New Spanish Ankle

Once again, post has been delayed due to crappy internet. We should be sorted for a while now. This happened on 28/3/12

I thought that only 10 year olds were supposed to fall off their bikes and break a leg – not 56 yr olds!!! However, this has now happened to me.

We are in a town called Merida in the Extremadura region, famous for its Roman ruins and now for ruined ankles. We were pottering about the town, when my bike slipped on a piece of glossy paper that flew into my path. I crashed to the ground and broke my ankle plus tibia and fibula – a trifecta.

With the help of the local police and ambulance I made it to the emergency room, had the usual x-rays etc and was examined by the resident orthopaedic surgeon - all without pain relief. He was wrenching my poor broken foot around and telling me to relax, when I developed sudden onset Tourrette’s Syndrome. I don’t usually swear at doctors, but this was beyond my level of tolerance, the pain was incredible!!!  He got the message.

Anyway, they whisked me into surgery under epidural (blessed numbness) and I’m now sporting a plate and 9 screws. My ankle now looks like it belongs on a shelf in Bunnings*.

Thankfully I needed only 2 nights in hospital. Whilst it was a modern hospital with modern equipment, it was very Spanish, with nurses who had clearly been to the Hitler Youth School of Nursing, efficient and brusque. They insisted on talking to me loudly in Spanish in the hope that eventually I would understand them. My Spanish is still limited to ordering beer and coffee, not really helpful in this situation. Anyway for future reference I learnt the 2 most important words you need in a Spanish hospital - dolor (pain) and orinar (urinate) ie; I need drugs, and I need to pee (no catheters!!).

The noise level in the hospital was incredible, often sounding like there was a cocktail party in full swing right outside my door. I have no idea who all those people were, but man they could talk – and loudly.

Sitting Outside Mog and Poky Cabin

Sore Paw

So now we are holed up in a small cabin at the campground, waiting for me to be able to fly to the UK where I will stay with friends to recuperate. Lawrence will get the Mog there somehow – hopefully by ferry from the Atlantic coast of Spain. I’m crap at using crutches I’ve discovered - I’m terrified of falling over, so need lots of assistance. Gin and crutches don’t mix.

The insurance company so far has been great, and all is being taken care of financially.

Not sure when the next blog will be – probably from Pete and Kath’s in N.Wales (my baby-sitters).

Watch this space for next exciting instalment.

2/4/12 Update: Have left poky cabin and now in lovely Parador, which has enough room to swing a cat, if one so desired.

Adios

*like B&Q in the UK