Yes, that's right - I said that. 'They' say turning something serious into something funny is often the best way to deal with a situation. That's the case for certain people anyway. So, in my case, this has proven true. I experiemented with everything to try and get rid of this leg brace (pictured), although Kat Moss seems to like it. Everything meaning years of physio, exercise, electric-pulse machines, acupunture, botox and finally, a tendon transfer surgery where they moved the tendon on the back of the troubled ankle around to the front of my foot. Eww. Hemiplegia (or right-sided paralysis) means the muscles on the right-side of my body (from head to toe) are serverly weakened - the message from the brain telling those muscles to work, isn't transmitting. Anyway, I've accepted I'll have to wear this foreign thing that prevents me from rolling my ankle or plain stacking it in public. Often mortifying, often hilarious when I happens. A slight bump in the road, sticky surface and crack in the pavement can cause a world of pain. Most recently on the tram. The brace doesn't always do the job but, really, I'd be a constant Gillard if I didn't wear it.
Walking, travelling, dancing, climbing stairs and exercising as much as I do, my brace tends to wear out every few months. That means a trip back to the hospital or an over-priced podiatrist visit to get a new one. Two weeks after I moved down to Melbourne, that's exactly what happened - mine broke. You kind of go into freak-out mode when you realise you're relying on a little piece of plastic for independence. The Alfred Hospital told me I'd have to wait seven months for an appointment because my situation wasn't classed as 'high-priority' (ummm...what) or pay $500 to buy one 'off-the-shelf''. So a day of investigation later, I found some lovely manufacturers of said-brace in MELBOURNE who sent me out two for $120. Nice profit you're making Alfred. For those in a similar situation, email me for the details.
Returning to the title of this post, yes, that's often how my family and I refer to the 'the leg' - the peg leg. This doesn't work for everyone and that's fine. When my two-year-old nephew started walking around the house like a drunken sailor (in an attempt to imitate me) I finally saw the funny side of it. It kinda puts things into perspective.