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Koppig

Ik heb de hele ochtend, braafjes en stil, op mijn stoel gezeten en zitten werken. Enfin, toch min of meer. De voet laat niet veel méér toe dan dat, eigenlijk. En koppigweg ben ik deze namiddag wel gaan lesgeven, ja. Drie uur lesgeven, en uiteraard wat rondlopen op school, en de tocht van de klas naar de parking, en mijn voet had het wel gehad, dat ook, ja.

Ik ben thuisgekomen en heb hem fluks omhoog gelegd, met ijs erop, en blij dat ik pijnstillers in mijn lijf had. Maar helaas ben ik niet van het stilzittende type, en dus heb ik ook thuis nog rondgelopen, terwijl Merel en Kobe het zich niet aantrokken dat de zon intussen weg was, en vrolijk in het zwembadje rondspatterden.

’t Doet zeer. Serieus.

Meh.

 

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Moederdag

Stralend weer en een zere voet = een rustige dag.

Het begon al fantastisch, met een zeer uitgebreid moederdagontbijt met verse eitjes, gesneden mango en meloen, croissants, versgeperst fruitsap en vooral ook cadeautjes. Van Wolf kreeg ik een prachtige ketting die ik meteen aangedaan heb, van Kobe een geurige kaart, en van Merel een zelfgemaakte spiegel (of toch zoiets) en een kaart met handgemaakt papier. En versjes en gedichten, natuurlijk.

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Daarna zette Bart Wolf en mij af aan de kerk voor een repetitie van de communie volgende week. Amai mijn voet… Maar daarna kreeg ik een heerlijke maaltijd, en vertrokken de jongens naar de scouts. En ik, ik genoot van het heerlijke weer, hing een was buiten, blies een zwembadje op, liet Merel zich amuseren in het water, en installeerde mezelf in de hangmat met mijn boek en een koffie. En daarna een fantastische fruitsla, dat ook.

Hele fijne moederdag, voorwaar!

 

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Voetperikelen, alweer

Om kwart over acht gooiden we de jongens af aan het rugbyclubhuis voor de jeugdfinales, reden fluks naar de overkant van de Watersportbaan, en Bart zette me af aan de spoed van het Jan Palfijn. Ik zei hem dat hij echt niet hoefde te wachten: zoiets duurt wel even, en ik had mijn volgende Robert Harris bij, een flesje water en mijn GSM. En dus reed hij met Merel om boodschappen en aansluitend naar huis, terwijl ik me installeerde in een triagekamer, en de halve gips vakkundig werd losgesneden. De voet zag er… tsja, imposant uit.

Het was vooral heel erg kalm op de spoed, en dus kreeg ik een zeer snelle behandeling. Er werden foto’s gemaakt, en er was inderdaad niks gebroken. Ze gingen bijna al beginnen gipsen, toen ik vroeg of we niet beter zouden wachten daarmee tot de echo’s waren genomen? Hmm, bleek misschien wel een goed idee. Trouwens, wie sprak er al van gipsen? Kwart voor tien kwam de radioloog binnen, en meteen werd er uitgebreid geëchood. Verdict: het viel allemaal beter mee dan gedacht. Alle gewrichtsbanden waren wel geraakt, maar er was maar eentje gescheurd, en wellicht maar partieel. Ah bon. Oké.

Terug naar de spoedafdeling, waar intussen ook een volwaardig orthopedist rondliep. Die twijfelde tussen gewoon een steunverband en een gips, hmm. Tot ik liet vallen dat ik eigenlijk vaste patiënte ben van Wouter Van den Broecke, en ze meteen die mens opbelden. Hij bleek net in Barcelona te zitten, maar herinnerde zich van daaruit dat ik nog een walker boot liggen had, en dat ik die dus kon dragen. En dat ik best in de loop van de volgende week eens bij hem langsging. Juist ja. Chapeau voor die mens zijn geheugen! De dokter schreef me nog drie keer 600 mg Ibuprofen per dag voor, en dat was dat.

Ik belde naar Bart dat hij me mocht komen ophalen, en dat hij best die laars even van onder het stof ging halen. Nog een chance dat ik het ding nog niet weggegooid had, want ik had al een paar keer op het punt gestaan. Maar ik vond het zonde om zo’n duur ding, dat eigenlijk nog niet versleten was, weg te gooien, en dus lag het al een jaar of zeven in de garage op de chauffageketel stof te vangen.

En eigenlijk was ik gigantisch opgelucht. Met dat ding in plaats van een gips kan ik douchen, rustig slapen, en zelfs autorijden, want je doet het gewoon aan en uit. Autorijden wordt me wel stellig afgeraden, maar die vijf kilometer naar school maken wel een wereld van verschil uit, want ik kan tenminste werken. Nu nog de zwelling en de pijn wegkrijgen…

Ik heb me dus de rest van de dag redelijk koest gehouden: nog geen 3000 stappen.

En intussen speelden de jongens rugby, en genoten ze volop van het prachtige weer.

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The waiting game

Having a sprained ankle and having to wait for hours, it is not fun, I can tell you that.

I was awake this morning before seven, as nearly everybody was leaving at that hour, and I wanted to say our goodbyes. I had decided not to go that early by bus, but to wait another hour and a half comfortably in the villa, and then take a taxi to the airport. Alison volunteered to stay with me and help me out, but since her flight was quite a bit earlier than mine, we arrived at the airport at 9 nonetheless.

She dropped me and my suitcases off at the ‘special services area’ in the airport, said goodbye, and vanished to catch her flight. So there I was, sitting on an uncomfortable bench, for more than three hours. My flight was at 13.45h, and the Italian people behind the counter just eyed me suspiciously from time to time, but said nothing. Luckily I had brought my Robert Harris to read, and that is exactly what I did, for three hours straight. Just once in a while an elderly couple, or a father with a helping son would join me for 15 minutes or so, and then we’d chat a little. There was this very charming old couple travelling to Cannes, he a total gentleman in suit with tie and everything, who apparently was born near Pompei, and had never even visited the excavations. They had been living in France for quite a number of years now, and it was nice to be able to talk in French for a change. They were both so sweet…

Anyway, around half past one the lady behind the counter finally summoned up an assistant with a wheelchair, and within less than five minutes my luggage was checked in and I had a boarding pass. On we went, through customs and security, and even the little bottles of water in my handluggage didn’t cause a problem. I was manually frisked, only the cast got some special attention, as it’s an exquisite place to hide stuff, I suppose. Yet further we went, straight through the entire airport, to a little waiting room right next to the gate, in less than 10 minutes from the first waiting room to this one.

By then I got very hungry, but the guy accompanying me just wheeled me, on simple request, to the baker shop in the transit area, ordered whatever I pointed at, and payed for me, so I even didn’t need to get up. I must say, I was quite impressed.

More Robert Harris it was, till half past one, when they wheeled me down, and into this special kind of truck for disabled. And then, to my surprise, at the airplane, the entire truck went up, to the level of the side door. Such fun!

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In the airplane I was crammed into a regular seat, even though the business seats were empty and spacious. When I asked if there was a possibility that I could sit there, in order to lift my by then really painful and swollen ankle a little, the stewardess answered that it was business customers only, and that everybody had one complaint or the other. So much for compassion, I guess.

I made it through the flight quite unharmed, though feeling a bit queasy once more, and was happy to get off the plane. A very friendly (and pretty) girl was waiting for me, took me all the way through the corridors in both a wheelchair and this little electric car, waited for me by the luggage and hoisted my case off the belt, and wheeled me to the exit, onto the street, where Bart was waiting for me. Upon seeing that it would be hard for Bart to both help me ànd take care of the cases, she decided to stick with me and took me all the way to the car. What a service! Kudos to Brussels Airport, I say!

We got home by seven, and I was sweaty, sticky and exhausted. And still feeling a bit sick to the stomach. I lied down for a bit, took a shower, had a decent meal, and did feel better. By then it was passed eight, so no use to go to the Emergency at the hospital, as they would only take x-rays, and then make me come back the next day anyway. I decided on having a good night’s rest first, and in the morning go to the hospital.

 

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O Fortuna, velut luna, semper variabilis…

The day really had a glorious beginning: my faithful Francesco the bus driver was back! Despite the half hour traffic jam, I arrived at Pompei without being sick, although a bit queasy once more. We started our trip by sitting down on a terrace and having a coffee (which I declined, my stomach was too upset) and then by queueing the entrance line. While Leon actually did that for us, we took a look at the… how can I respectfully describe this? These people were found in the ash layers, and the empty spaces in the ashes, left behind by their corpses, were filled with plaster, so we can actually make out their shapes around their skeletons. We were really stunned by this, and actually even aggravated by the children – too young to fully comprehend that these were once actual people – who were wooping and cheering at the sight.

And then we entered the site, and made our way passing by some graves, and finally entering the city.

So we wandered around, Daan holding the map, like you would wander around a modern city, deciding which places we definitely wanted to see. In the Fuller’s house we went, through the temple of Isis, climbing the steps of the theatre, and having our picknick in a shadowy grove.

After a short break we continued through the streets, marvelling at every corner, in every doorstep, at every view. I must admit, it was nothing like I expected. I was told about low structures that you could see through, only fundaments remaining, and here I was, in a complete city, the Roman spirit wafting through every doorway… I admired the baths with the hypocaustum and the bowling alley, took a long look at the mosaic of the boar…

And then, Fortuna struck…

As I was stepping down into the street, I turned around for a last look at that mosaic, not really minding my step, and… I heard a loud snap, a blinding pain, and I fell down, grasping my right ankle. I knew right away: this was a serious sprain, not just a mere twist, but nothing was broken. A guard summoned the medics, as I lay down on the pavement. And, much to my surprise, every passing guide asked how I was, if someone was alerted, if I needed anything. After a few minutes, I asked the rest of the group to continue, since this was going to take a while, and Leon stayed by my side.

The infirmiere arrived, took a quick assessment, and while I was filling out some papers, the guy took out a lot of bandages, and set to work, right there and then on the Pompei pavement. He sprayed the ankle, swaddled it in a thick layer of fluff cotton, and measured out a length of premade plaster. And yes, he made me a half cast right there on the spot. It took like a quarter of an hour to dry completely, and I was set. Alas, I couldn’t walk. So the lady fetched me a pair of crutches, and they escorted me to the exit, as neither they nor the crutches could leave the premises. And there, on the outside pavement, they left me standing, after a very good, swift and free treatment.
Luckily there still was Leon to take care of me, so he helped me cross the street and onto a terrace chair, and we ordered a coffee. I do admit, at that very moment I started crying. The pain, the exhaustion of having to walk that way and all those steps with crutches, and the mere misery of it all. No more Pompei for me, and probably a couple of weeks immobility. And I definitely need to go to work, this close to the exams. And I need to get home too, through the airport and all. Oh well…

Leon called Mina at the Villa, and she would go out and fetch me a pair of crutches; he also went to the ATM for me and got me some extra money, and the bus would come and pick me up on the spot.

So I sat there, being pretty miserable, on the terrace outside Pompei Scavi. There was this guy prancing about, dressed up like a praetorian, making money out of tourists who wanted a picture with him. He came up to me at one point, asking me what had happened. I explained, and he said that he was a gladiator. So I laughed, and said he was not, he was an officer in the army. He looked very alarmed, mockingly, and said that I should hush up! Of course he was a praetorian, but the people don’t know that, and they preferred a gladiator. Anyway, this guy really made me laugh, and I needed that. He even made me take a selfie ^^

Later on, he came back and attached a trinket to my big toe, “a good luck charm” he said. And then he was gone before I even could thank him. So sweet…

Anyway, we got home, I went to lie down, and gradually I did feel better. Everyone was so nice and so concerned…