MOOMINS M.C.

Started my physiotherapy routine today. I spent some time thinking just how the hell I’m supposed to be at the gym at 9 o’clock, as requested by the physio’. What with breakfast, shower and dressings all needing to be done.
I came to the conclusion that they can just go and get if they expect me there at that time.
That’s pretty much the same opinion the nurses had as well.
I ended up getting there at 11.
Did a bit more of my stand up routine, but this time they made me go up on my toes as well.

The gym is an interesting place. It’s very similar to any other gym but for some minor differences.
The first thing you notice is that it’s incredibly well populated with patients in various stages of therapy. They can be split up into various groups of mobility impairment.

The ones who can walk.

The ones who can walk with an aid like a walking stick, frame or crutches.

The ones who can walk but get around in a wheelchair.

And last but not least, the ones like me who couldn’t walk to save themselves even if we were being chased by hungry man eating sloths.

There’s also some equipment which you wouldn’t find in normal gyms. The main one is the walking rails. These are two rails on a slightly raised platform, about five metres long and one metre apart.
When I first saw the rails there was some bloke at one end trying to stand up and hanging off the rails on either side were a number of other patients.
They were practicing squatting and I really had try hard not to laugh as the two lines looked like a bunch of fucked up, walking wounded ballerinas bobbing up and down with absolutely no particular rhythm or co-ordination.

Seriously, you’ve never seen that many screwed up people in the one place! I reckon if the fire alarm went off you’d witness one of the slowest evacuations in history. And they’d all be ‘running’ fast as they can! It’d be like something out of The Simpsons .

I’m sure there’s some sort of pecking order in there which is determined by how busted up you are or something but I haven’t quite figured it out yet.

You’ve seen my right arm, here’s my right femur ( thigh bone ). It had more breaks than John Howard’s pre-election promises.
Please excuse poor image quality.