Is it just me or are all physiotherapists psychopaths? This morning, little after 8 O’clock, I was trying to catch a post-breakfast 6am wake up call (something sadistic im itself). At this point, a pair of physios turn up. They’re both very athletic and look like they had been at the gym since midnight, burning calories, while renewing their Juice Plus subscriptions. I was asked how I was feeling and if I had made any progression with regards to standing and walking. I told them how I was woken up earlier than a farm yard hen and how as a result, I was shattered. I also informed them of my fine efforts the previous evening, where, with Claire’s guidance, I was able to stand and walk around my area of the bay. I thought this might impress them. It did not. Despite my fatigue and triumphant tale, the cruel pair insisted I move myself towards the end of the bed, stand up and do yet more walking. Obviously another hour in bed, followed by a plate of bacon and eggs was out of the question.

I took a while to get to the edge of the bed, and warned the physios that I would be slow. I was told I could take all the time I required. Obviously this was nice, but if I had taken five hours to walk a couple of steps, the pleasant promise may be retracted.

I was able to stand on my own and able to walk even further than the previous evening. Pretty impressive considering I have been simply existing in a hospital bed for the past two weeks.

Maybe it’s a good thing the physiotherapists are so demanding. If they wrapped me up in cotton wool and allowed me to become lazy, I would make no progress. We’ll see what tomorrow brings. If I break my own back because of an over demanding physio, I’ll let you all know.