Off to see the surgeon this evening, two weeks after the last operation.
The wound, despite a zipper load of staples is still open and ouzing but perhaps not ouzing as much as it once did. As the day progresses, my buttock swells to a painful degree but then calms down once I am home and lying down. By morning the swelling is all but gone when my wife changes the dressing. There is always some form of erruption at the dressing change but now, rather than clear lymph fluid, the discharge is a thick yellowy mucus. A feeling of relief greets this daily discharge; a feeling of relief that is for my buttock. I am not so sure that Mrs O shares the joy.
The area is very itchy which may be a good sign; a sign of healing. I am not sure if the itch is deep into the original lession or in the surgiccal wound or just on the surface where, after seven weeks of abuse, the skin is fairly manky. The area is also sore and occasionally beset by shooting pains particularly if I find myself walking too fast or sitting incorrectly. At least no gunk has spilt into my trousers or onto my chair for a while.
At the start of this process, I cheered myself with dreams of what I would do on my bike as soon as I was able. Turbo sessions, long steady rides progressing to hill reps. Simple journeys about town to work or football. The track opening. Sportives that I have entered and a session or two at Calshot. Now I am mentally crossing arranged events off my calendar. Hell of Ashdown and RPM's Calshot day already gone. No chance of the Surrey Rumble nor of the Burgess Hill Spring Classic. Fastrack coaching's Calshot event at the end of March looks unlikely; even if I am back on my bike by then, the chance of regaining sufficient fitness in time is minimal. Worries now surround The Etape de Caledonia in mid May and the Tour of Wessex at the end of that month. Hopefully, the surgeon will be able to let me know when I might be recovered so that I can start dreaming again.
Sorry to be glum. Hopefully, tonight will bring some good news.
Off to see the surgeon this evening, two weeks after the last operation.
The wound, despite a zipper load of staples is still open and ouzing but perhaps not ouzing as much as it once did. As the day progresses, my buttock swells to a painful degree but then calms down once I am home and lying down. By morning the swelling is all but gone when my wife changes the dressing. There is always some form of erruption at the dressing change but now, rather than clear lymph fluid, the discharge is a thick yellowy mucus. A feeling of relief greets this daily discharge; a feeling of relief that is for my buttock. I am not so sure that Mrs O shares the joy.
The area is very itchy which may be a good sign; a sign of healing. I am not sure if the itch is deep into the original lession or in the surgiccal wound or just on the surface where, after seven weeks of abuse, the skin is fairly manky. The area is also sore and occasionally beset by shooting pains particularly if I find myself walking too fast or sitting incorrectly. At least no gunk has spilt into my trousers or onto my chair for a while.
At the start of this process, I cheered myself with dreams of what I would do on my bike as soon as I was able. Turbo sessions, long steady rides progressing to hill reps. Simple journeys about town to work or football. The track opening. Sportives that I have entered and a session or two at Calshot. Now I am mentally crossing arranged events off my calendar. Hell of Ashdown and RPM's Calshot day already gone. No chance of the Surrey Rumble nor of the Burgess Hill Spring Classic. Fastrack coaching's Calshot event at the end of March looks unlikely; even if I am back on my bike by then, the chance of regaining sufficient fitness in time is minimal. Worries now surround The Etape de Caledonia in mid May and the Tour of Wessex at the end of that month. Hopefully, the surgeon will be able to let me know when I might be recovered so that I can start dreaming again.
Sorry to be glum. Hopefully, tonight will bring some good news.