Another physio appointment this morning - on my previous visit, the physiotherapist said they might try me out on walking sticks instead of crutches today. Sure enough, this morning she produced a pair of sticks (the metallic sort at first). My first attempt was a bit wobbly, to say the least - but the same could be said for my first try with crutches (before which I'd been using a Zimmer frame).
The major difference is the sticks give you a lot less support than crutches. I can't put so much of my weight through the sticks, so it forces me to take more through my legs. And that, I guess, is precisely the intention.
A pair of wooden walking sticks were cut to size for me to take home and practice with. I feel like I have turned into my dad - except he at least had the sense to reach his fifties before his hips gave out (an outcome that I blamed on a lifetime of physical activity and exercise, particularly during his time in the Parachute Regiment - jumping out of airplanes can't be good for anyone's joints, I reckon).
It appears to be the weekend. Hurrah.
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