With clear, sunny days and temperatures in the mid 20s, it hardly feels like Christmas. It’s only rained once this month, in fact I think it’s only rained once since Nick had his accident on November 1st and the garden’s so dry that I’ve even had to water it!

The citrus trees are tucked up, cosy and warm, in their greenhouse, the scent is fantastic in there, and several limes had fallen, so we picked anything else that looked and felt ripe – 2kg of limes and lemons. Not having anything else to do (well, I can dream), we decided to turn them into marmalade: yesterday evening was spent squeezing and chopping and today we cooked it. It took both our big pans, the arrière cuisine smelt wonderful and we ended up with 15 jars. It doesn’t look like the bought variety, as our limes were mostly quite yellow in colour, so it hasn’t got that lovely greenish tinge, but it tastes wonderful.

On that happy note, I’ll take this opportunity to wish anybody and everybody who’s reading this a very happy Christmas and much happiness in 2016.

Avec des jours clairs et ensoleillés et des températures  de 20-24ºC, il se sent à peine comme Noël. Il n’a pas plu depuis longtemps, en fait, je pense qu’il  n’a qu’une fois depuis Nick a eu son accident le 1er Novembre et le jardin est tellement sec que je dois l’arroser!

Les arbres d’agrumes sont retroussé et chaud, dans leur petite serre, le parfum est fantastique là-dedans, et plusieurs citrons verts étaient tombés, donc nous avons recolté quelques autres qui avait l’air et sentait mûr – 2kg de limes et des citrons. N’ayant rien autre à faire (enfin, je peux rêver), nous avons décidé de les transformer en marmelade: hier soir a été dépensé hacher et presser et aujourd’hui nous l’avons cuisiné. Il a fallu nos deux grandes casseroles, l’arrière cuisine sentait merveilleux et nous sommes retrouvés avec 15 pots. Il ne ressemble pas à la variété acheté, comme nos citrons verts étaient pour la plupart de couleur jaune, de sorte qu’il n’a pas la belle teinte verdâtre, mais il a un goût merveilleux.

Sur cette note heureuse, je vais profiter de cette occasion pour souhaiter à tout le monde qui lit mon blog un très joyeux Noël et beaucoup de bonheur en 2016.

I don’t understand how someone as active as Nick normally is can remain as positive and cheerful as he has, when his movement is as restricted as it’s been for the last 6 weeks. But somehow he’s managed it and recently we had reason to celebrate when he managed the stairs for the first time since November 1st.

I don’t do anything like the same amount of exercise as Nick, but if I’m deprived of it, I soon start to feel very low; 2 weeks and I’m climbing the walls, 3 weeks and I just want to curl up and die. So after nearly 6 weeks of nothing more than a quick walk to the supermarket while Nick’s at the physio, things were getting desperate; I really needed a bike ride.

Nick has recently bought me a new bike; a road bike, but with clearances for slightly knobbly tyres. I’ll take it when we go off in the camper, it should be ideal for trips around town or along cycle tracks, being less highly strung than my others. Obviously it needed trying out; Nick fitted the saddle we’d bought the previous day and canibalised another bike for pedals; the right pedal went in fine, but the left one was a struggle, being extremely tight. At last it was 95% in; that would do, commented Nick; at least I wouldn’t lose a pedal.

The bike was great, comfortable and responsive, and it was a glorious day, so I ended up riding a bit further than I’d planned; after 15km, and heading for home, I felt so good, giving it my all up a hill, one, two, one, two, when suddenly, one…… nothing; no push, in fact, nothing at all! My right foot was floating about in the air – the “good” pedal had come off! I stopped; the pedal was still attached to my shoe and wanted to stay there. I couldn’t walk home in that shoe without damaging the pedal, but didn’t much fancy the walk in just my sock either. Much wrenching and pulling ensued and eventually the pedal separated from the shoe, so I set off to walk the remaining 7km. I let Nick know I’d be a bit late home; I didn’t really mind; it was as lovely a day for a walk as for a ride, after all, with clear views of the Pyrenees, resplendant under the first snow of the winter. But about 3km from home a car pulled up; some friends had called in, heard of my plight and had come to rescue me.

Je ne comprends pas comment quelqu’un aussi actif que Nick peut rester positif et optimiste, quand son mouvement est aussi limité que ça a été pour les six dernières semaines. Mais de toute façon il le fait et récemment, nous avons eu raison de célébrer quand il est monté les escaliers pour la première fois depuis le 1er Novembre.

Je ne fais pas du tout la même quantité d’exercice que Nick, mais si je suis privé de tout cela, je commence vite à me sentir très basse; 2 semaines et je deviens melancholique, trois semaines et je veux mourir.  Donc après six semaines de rien de plus que quelques minutes à pied au supermarché tandis Nick à la physio, les choses devenaient désespérée; j’avais vraiment besoin d’une rando au vélo.

 Nick m’a acheté récemment un nouveau vélo; un vélo de route, mais avec des espaces pour les pneus légèrement noueux. Je vais le prendre quand nous partons dans le camping-car, il devrait être idéal pour des excursions autour de la ville ou le long des pistes cyclables, étant moins nerveux que mes autres. Évidemment, il fallait l’essayer; Nick a posé la selle que nous avions acheté la veille et il a cannibalisé un autre vélo pour des pédales; la pedale droite etait facile à faire, mais le gauche était  extrêmement serré. Enfin, il était de 95% en; ça serait bien, a commenté Nick; au moins, je ne perdrais pas une pédale.

Le vélo était superbe, confortable et réactive, et ce fut une belle journée, donc je suis allée un peu plus loin que je l’avais prévu; après 15 km, et se dirigeant vers la maison, je me sentais tellement bien, je poussais le plus dure que je pouvais, un, deux, un, deux, quand tout à coup, l’un …… rien; rien comme puissance, en fait, rien du tout! Mon pied droit  flottait dans l’air – la “bonne” pédale s’etait détachée! Je me suis arrêté; la pédale était encore attaché à ma chaussure et voulait y rester. Je ne pouvais pas rentrer à pied en cette chaussure sans endommager la pédale, mais n’avais pas beaucoup d’envie de marcher en seulement ma chaussette.  J’ai tiré bien la pédale, et finalement je l’ai séparé de la chaussure, donc je pouvais marcher les derniers 7 km. J’ai expliqué à Nick que je serais chez nous un peu en retard; ça ne me dérangeait pas vraiment; il était une aussi belle journée pour une promenade que pour un rando au vélo, après tout, avec une vue dégagée sur les Pyrénées, resplendissante sous la première neige de l’hiver. À environ 3km de la maison, une voiture tiré s’est arretée;  quelques amis etaient venus nous voir, Nick les avait parler de ma situation et ils étaient venus me sauver.

Once upon a time, on the edge of a vineyard in deepest South West France, there lived a middle aged couple. The man had had an accident and was unable to do much for a while, so his wife did her best to tackle the jobs normally done by her husband, as well as those neither of them would normally need to do. She’d perfected the art of dragging the wheelchair in and out of the car and had become fairly proficient at lighting fires, drilling beams and using the electric chainsaw to cut wood, though being unacustomed to such heavy work, she had aches and pains where she hadn’t previously realised she had muscles.

One day, she even found time to prune the blackcurrant bushes, once she’d managed to find them, that is; the weed fairies had visited and the blackcurrant bushes were completely overgrown with grass and weeds, which really needed strimming. Her kindly husband had generously bought her a strimmer of her own a couple of years before; she’d never quite got the hang of starting it, but felt that it couldn’t really be that difficult – could it?

Our brave (OK, stubborn, determined) heroine filled it with fuel, primed the pump, turned the choke on and pulled the cord as hard as she was able; but the bad strimmer fairies had bewitched it and nothing happened. She tried again, and again, and again……… until she felt her arm and shoulder would fall off. So that’s how hard it could be then. When she had no pull left, she gave up in disgust. Why couldn’t they make strimmers (or chainsaws, or hedge trimmers, or any of those other boy-toys for that matter), easy, or even possible to start? Would she really have to resort to cutting the grass with shears?

The following day, a knight in shining armour came riding by, in the shape of Lord Kieran of Dax; he split logs for the fire and stacked them on the terrace, frightened off the bad fairies and showed the woman how to start the strimmer. Then he turned it off and made her do it herself; well, he tried. Once he’d started it several times and it was warmed up, she was able to start it, but that probably won’t help when it’s cold and Lord Kieran’s not around; still, she was able to cut the grass around the blackcurrants, so perhaps they can live happily ever after, for a while at least.

When not performing my duties as housekeeper, sole cook and bottle washer, nurse, physiotherapist, chauffeur, handyperson, hair washer, back scrubber, heaver of wheelchair in and out of car/house and general gofer, I occasionally find time to get out into the garden.

Last week, I had a look at the cabbages I planted a while ago; now, I’m no expert when it comes to gardening, but I do know that cabbage leaves should not look like overwashed, green lace. A closer inspection revealed caterpillars; not just the odd one or two, but hundreds of the striped, hairy things, in all sizes from armies of tiny, thread-like ones, eager to spread out and start chewing at top speed, to fully grown adults, chomping away at my cabbages. Very little remained of some of them, the pests having had their fill already.

I looked up how to deal with them and the only organic means is to pick them off and squash them. UGH!!! I tried, really I did, but even wearing rubber gloves, which made picking them up possible, no way could I bring myself to sqeeze them till they popped. So I left them for a couple of days, during which I’m sure their numbers doubled; till I was watching the nurse changing Nick’s dressing one morning. Each kit used contains two pairs of disposable plastic tweezers, so when she’d gone, I retrieved the tweezers and headed out to the potager; they were perfect, even allowing me to access those caterpillars in hard to reach spots. A quick squish and the beasties are dead – perfect! I now have quite a collection of tweezers, that I’ve put to good use for several days and today I only found 12 caterpillars, so I hope the cabbages might recover in time.

We went to see the surgeon yesterday; he’s happy with Nick’s progress and said that he no longer needs the “gouttière”, a sort of removeable plaster cast and can soon start to put his foot on the ground, which feels like a glimmer of light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. Nick feels that progress on his shoulder is very slow, but this, apparently, is normal; it’s the joint with the most articulation, so getting full movement back will be a long, slow process.
The physio has a pulley device; Nick pulls the cord on one side, which enables him to lift his bad arm. So I’ve drilled a couple of holes in the beam in the sitting room ceiling, screwed eyelets into them and threaded them with cord; Nick can do the same exercise at home now. It’s shocking to see him unable to lift his arm, but that too is normal at this stage, we gather.
Before all this happened, Nellie and I were asked to sing at a concert in January; normally we have the reassurance of the rest of the band with us, but this time will be a lot more scary. The organiser asked for a photo of us for the flyers, so Nick played the role of photographer today, on his “mobility scooter”. It was a lovely afternoon and Hervé came along with Nellie, quite peeved that I hadn’t yet asked him for help. He was disappointed to find that Kieran is keeping up with the firewood, as he’d arrived with a couple of chainsaws in his van, but I was able to keep him occupied putting in stakes and wires to support the mange tout peas that are growing nicely now, while Nellie and I dug and weeded other parts of the garden, and Nick rode around happily on the mower, delighted to be outdoors in the warm autumn sunshine.
As the sun went down we had aperos by the log fire and Hervé made me promise to call him the next time there’s a task I can’t cope with.

One such task was taken on by Adrian and his brother, Mick. For a couple of weeks I’ve been hearing scrabbling, pattering noises in the space between the kitchen ceiling and my bedroom floor; at first it sounded small, like mice, but last week we had the impression of something enormous, wearing hobnailed boots. I really thought it was a rat, though it could have got into the space, I couldn’t imagine. It was so loud that it woke me at 6 o’clock one morning! I bought sachets of poison and pushed them into any gaps I could find, but the noises continued. I mentioned it to Ade when he was over; he and his brother cut out a square of the floorboards under the bed, where it won’t show, scattered several packs of poison as far as they could and put back the boards, reassuring me that the droppings they found were only those of mice. I haven’t heard anything since, so fingers crossed that they’re gone, or dead, or both.

We really count ourselves very lucky to have such good friends.

The weather this month has been amazing, sunny and 20-30ºC most days; but since yesterday, it’s changed to winter, which was something of a shock to the system. It was the open day at the local wine cave today; frequently the midday meal is held in a marquee outside, but not this year. Instead, tables were set in the big room that houses the armagnac stills, which, because the armagnac is being made at the moment, bubbling away in the stills, was lovely and warm. We were entertained by a band from the Nogaro school of music as workers from the cave served aperos.

The walking club was making the meal this year and they did a fantastic job; garbure (a hearty, mountain soup) was followed by duck hearts and chips then cheese, all washed down with red wine, with apple tart and coffee to finish. Anybody who wanted to was welcome to help themselves to armagnac straight from the still; at 70% alcohol, it nearly blows your head off. Colourless for the time being, it will be diluted to 55% with sterilised water  before being put into oak barrels, which will give it its colour, then left for several years until, the angels having taken their share, the alcohol is at 40%, when it will be bottled.

Apart from going to see the doctor and the physio, this was Nick’s first outing post accident; everybody was delighted to see him out and about and we met one of the pompiers who attended the crash. He told me that, as the pompiers from Eauze had been called as well as those from Nogaro, they were expecting a fatality; he was really pleased to meet Nick again and see him looking well.

It’s not all plain sailing yet, as he fell coming in from riding his “mobility scooter” on Thursday; fortunately the only damage was a badly cut nose, but it knocked his confidence and he’s mostly stayed indoors since. His ankle is also infected now, so he’s on antibiotics, but at least he’s in good spirits and enjoying catching up on some reading. For my part, I’m kept busy enough looking after the invalid, but I have found time to plant some strawberries and onions in the veg plot. I’d love to get the tiling finished in the new house, but up to now haven’t had the time.

Since Nick had his accident, life has been a steep learning curve for me; not just the mind-boggling French bureaucracy, but I’ve had to fix the mower, unblock the drain from the shower, learn how to use the chain saw to cut firewood and, ridiculous though it sounds, drive to Pau on my own for the first time.

The thing is that when the angels were handing out senses of direction, I was already lost, probably in search of a bathroom, so I missed out. Normally when I’m driving somewhere, I have my very reliable satnav, but as he was in hospital and I wanted to visit the patchwork show in Pau on Thursday, I had to go it alone. I studied maps and Google streetview and found it without too much difficulty, arriving in plenty of time to have a good look around before the workshop I’d booked for the afternoon, The show was slightly disappointing; lots of people selling fabrics, buttons, threads, etc, but very few quilts on display; but the workshop more than made up for it, working with silk fibres and machine embroidery on soluble fabric.

Leaving the exhibition, I headed straight for the clinic, where Nick said the surgeon had been in for a flying visit that afternoon, not even giving Nick time to ask when he could go home, but promising to return later. I’d left something in the car, went to fetch it, and happened to meet the surgeon in the car park. Not wanting to miss the opportunity, I asked when Nick could come home; well, he explained, the thing was that our GP wanted him to go to Nogaro hospital for a few days and there weren’t any places yet. I explained that everything was in place for him at home; wheelchair, ramps, bed downstairs, and that he was bored and itching to get out, basically ready to leave, “What, now?!” was the reaction; no, I said, tomorrow (Friday) would be fine. We’d have to discuss it, he replied; could I call in to see him on Friday afternoon? I could see Nick’s stay stretching well into next week, so I pushed a bit harder and eventually got his agreement to let Nick out on Saturday. I got the impression he found my approach a little unconventional.

Thursday was always going to be a long day as, after leaving the clinic, I had to go straight to rehearsal; by the time I got home at 1am, I was shattered.

Nick arrived home Saturday afternoon; I’d let the cycle club know so no one would try to visit him in the clinic, but on Sunday morning I was delighted when they called in at the end of their ride. I brought down extra chairs and got out beers and peanuts as they all told of how scared they’d been 2 weeks ago. Bruno said he’s had nightmares all week as a result. It was great to have the kitchen filled with a noisy group of cyclists, all talking over each other as they drank beer and ate peanuts. Maurice brought Nick what he described as a thank you present – a thank you for having survived – a knife whose handle he’s carved and decorated himself, and all of them reiterated that if there’s anything we need, we only have to call. We were very touched by the generosity of spirit of our friends in our adopted home.

Kieran and Alice turned up later; partly to see how Nick is and partly to see how they could help. Kieran moved a load of firewood while Alice and I put together the plastic greenhouse to protect the lemon and lime trees this winter. It took all of us to move the trees into it, but we managed.

After his most active day for two weeks, Nick looks exhausted.

Depuis Nick a eu son accident, ma vie a été une courbe d’apprentissage abrupte; pas seulement le ahurissant bureaucratie française, mais j’au du à reparer la tondeuse, débloquez le drain de la douche, apprendre à utiliser la tronçonneuse pour couper du bois de chauffage et, si cela semble ridicule, à conduire seule à Pau pour la première fois.
Je crois  que quand les anges ont distribué des sens d’orientation, j’etais déjà perdu, probablement à la recherche d’une salle de bain, donc j’ai raté. Normalement, lorsque je suis au volant quelque part, j’ai mon GPS très fiable, mais comme il étais à l’hôpital et je voulais visiter l’expo de patchwork à Pau le jeudi, je devais y aller seul. J’ai étudié des cartes et Google Street View et je l’ai trouvé sans trop de difficulté, je suis arrivée assez tot pour avoir un bon coup d’oeil autour avant l’atelier que j’avais réservé l’après-midi, j’etais un peu déçu; beaucoup de commerçants qui vendaient des tissus, des boutons, des fils, etc., mais très peu de quilts; mais l’atelier a plus que compensé pour cela, j’ai travaillé avec des fibres de soie et de broderie machine sur tissu soluble.
Partirant de l’expo, je suis allée directement à la clinique; Nick m’a dit que le chirugien est arrivé l’après-midi, mais est resté tres peu de temps; Nick n’a pas eu le temps de lui demander quand il pouvait rentrer chez lui. J’avais oublié quelque chose dans la voiture, et en allant le chercher, j’ai rencontré le chirurgien au parking. Ne voulant pas manquer l’occasion, j’ai demandé quand Nick pourrait rentrer; bien, il m’a expliqué, la chose était que notre generaliste voulait qu’il aille à l’hôpital de Nogaro pour quelques jours et il n’y avait pas encore de place. Je lui ai expliqué que tout était en place pour lui à la maison; fauteuil roulant, rampes, lit en bas, et qu’il s’ennuyait; il etait prêt à partir, “Quoi, maintenant?!” a été la réaction; non, dis-je, demain (vendredi) serait bien. Nous devions le discuter, il a répondu; pourrais-je le voir vendredi après-midi? Je pouvais imaginer le séjour de Nick étendu dans la semaine prochaine, donc je poussé un peu plus et ai finalement obtenu son accord pour liberer Nick le samedi. J’ai eu l’impression qu’il ai trouvé mon approche un peu  non conventionnelle.
Jeudi serait toujours une longue journée parce que, après avoir quitté la clinique, je devais aller directement à la répétition; au moment où je suis rentré à 1h du matin, j’étais crevée.
Nick est arrivé à la maison samedi après-midi; j’avais dit au club de vélo afin que personne n’essaie de lui rendre visite à la clinique, mais le dimanche matin, je fus ravi quand ils sont arrivés chez nous à la fin de leur randonnée. J’ai ramené des chaises supplémentaires et j’ai sorti des bières et des cacahuettes lorsque Ils ont parlé de leur  peur il y a 2 semaines.  Bruno a déclaré qu’il a eu des cauchemars toute la semaine à la suite. Il était génial d’avoir la cuisine remplie d’un groupe bruyant de cyclistes, tout le monde parlant sur l’autre lorques ils buvaient de la bière et mangé des cacahuettes.   Maurice a apporté un cadeau pour Nick qu’il a décrit comme un remerciement  – à remercier d’avoir survécu – un couteau dont il a sculpté et décoré la manche lui-même, et chacun d’eux nous a rappelé que si il y a quelque chose dont nous avons besoin, nous avons seulement à appeler. Nous avons été très touchés par la générosité d’esprit de nos amis dans notre pays adopté.
Kieran et Alice sont arrivés plus tard; en partie pour voir comment Nick est et en partie pour voir comment ils pourraient nous aider.  Kierana bougé une charge de bois de chauffage tandis qu’Alice et moi avons construit la serre en plastique pour protéger les citronniers pendant l’ hiver. Il a fallu nous trois de mettre les arbres dedans, mais nous avons réussi.
Après son jour le plus actif ppendant deux semaines, Nick a l’air épuisé.

I collected Nick’s bike, helmet and assorted bits yesterday, from Richard’s, where it had been for the last 10 days. The helmet wasn’t as smashed up as I’d been led to believe; it looks as though that took the impact when he hit the grass verge. The bike frame, on the other hand, is in two distinctly separate pieces and will need replacing.

Nick is still in the clinic at Aire and must be feeling a lot better as he’s definitely getting bored now; a man can only do so much reading and sudoku and I think, after 11 days,  he’s just about reached his limit. There was talk of him moving to the hospital in Nogaro, but all he wants now is to come home; he feels there’s no benefit to staying in any longer, so if nothing is said tomorrow, I’ll go to see the GP and ask him to get Nick discharged. It’s so very different from hospitals in the UK; the clinic is privately run, so it’s in their interest to keep patients in for as long as possible.

Friends are being so kind; apart from visiting Nick, they are helping me in so many ways. Christian and Therese came round this afternoon to help with the garden; we worked for three hours, at the end of which we’d removed all the dead and dying tomato, cougette and aubergine plants, weeded and dug over the beds and Christian had strimmed around the edges. Nick won’t recognise it when he gets home; it looks so much better than it did.

Nick bade a happy farewell to his drips and drains yesterday and had his ankle and shoulder x-rayed again. He’s looking forward to going through the metal detector next time we fly. When you see the bruise on his right side, it’s not surprising that he’s still feeling uncomfortable; there’s another, similar one on his left hip and thigh.

But he’s able to get out of bed now, though he finds steering a zimmer frame with one hand awkward; and was able to stand long enough for me to wash his hair today. It seems likely that he’ll be moved to the hospital in Nogaro soon, to start his reeducation and physio, before he comes home, but it should only be for a few days.

I’ve reserved a wheelchair at the pharmacy and a friend in the cycle club has offered to make a ramp for the front door, so that we can get it in and out. I’ll have to ask somebody to remove the bathroom door before Nick gets home, as there isn’t room to get a wheelchair in with the door in situ.

Thank you to everyone who’s sent messages of various sorts, wishing Nick a speedy recovery, and for the many offers of help I’ve had; everything from paperwork to cutting firewood. We both really appreciate the support of our good friends, both here and in the UK, more than I can say.

Nick a dit un adieu heureux de ses infusions et ses drains hier et ils ont fait encore des radios de la cheville et de l’épaule. Il attend avec impatience passer par le détecteur de métal la prochaine fois que nous prenons l’avion. Quand on voit l’haematome à son côté droit, il n’est pas étonnant qu’il a toujours un peu de douleur; il ya un autre, similaire à sa hanche gauche et la cuisse.

Mais il  peut sortir du lit maintenant, même si il trouve diriger un déambulateur avec une main maladroite; il pouvait se tenir debout assez longtemps pour que je puisse laver les cheveux à lui aujourd’hui. Il semble qu’il va à l’hôpital de Nogaro bientôt, pour commencer sa rééducation, mais il ne devrait être pour quelques jours.

J’ai réservé un fauteuil roulant à la pharmacie et un ami dans le club de cycle a offert  faire une rampe pour la porte d’entrée. Je vais devoir demander à quelqu’un de retirer la porte de la salle de bain avant Nick rentre à la maison, car il n’y a pas de place pour un fauteuil roulant avec la porte in situ.

Un grand merci à tous ceux qui ont envoyé des messages de toutes sortes, souhaitant un prompt rétablissement Nick, et pour les nombreuses offres d’aide; de m’aider remplir des fiches à couper du bois et m’accompagner ici et là-bas. Nous apprécions beaucoup le soutien de nos bons amis, à la fois ici et dans le Royaume-Uni, plus que je peux dire.

Wednesday

I spent most of  Wednesday morning in the insurance office – again; and left with more lists of paperwork to supply and phone calls to make. But at least I was beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel and felt better than on Tuesday, when I’d gone into meltdown. For some reason, Tuesday was when the big “what if” hit me like a sledgehammer; up to then I’d been positive about how lucky Nick had been, but suddenly I was a shuddering wreck who couldn’t stop crying. Shock, I suppose. Plus not understanding a lot of what was being said regarding the paperwork (never my forté), or the systems that drive it; the enormity of the situation seemed just too much to cope with and it took a while to pull myself back together.

I had more paperwork to sort at the hospital in the afternoon, as well as going to see the surgeon; I think everybody got the impression that Nick didn’t speak French when he arrived, so they choose to talk to me instead.

Thursday

Nick went to theatre at 8am on Thursday. I started phoning for news at 11 o’clock, but he was still in theatre; he didn’t actually get out of theatre till 2pm and back to the ward at 3.30. His left leg in in plaster from the toes to the knee and I saw the bruise on his shoulder for the first time; impressive.

He was groggy to start with, but fairly soon was awake enough to talk to the stream of visitors who arrived. He was on a lot of pain relief, so not in too much discomfort, but started looking tired, so I left him to sleep and met with Gilles, to fill in the forms for the cycle club insurance claim – it took a mere hour, we must be getting proficient!

Friday

The physio called to see Nick today; I think we’ll be seeing a lot of him in the coming weeks and months. Nick’s arm is very swollen, due to lack of movement, so he massaged it and gave Nick exercises to do. He has to make a fist and raise and lower his forearm; at first he could only do that by lifting it with his other hand, he was quite shocked at how weak it’s become.

Kieran went to see him, then came home with me to help me with various tasks I can’t do on my own; taking down the scaffolding, moving furniture out of the sitting room and installing a bed downstairs for when Nick comes home. The problem is that he can’t walk because of his ankle, but can’t use crutches because of his shoulder; so we’ll have to hire a wheelchair for a while and he’ll be restricted to the ground floor.

The surgeon says he should be able to come home next week; it can’t come soon enough.