The Joy When the Plaster Comes Off
As a recent veterinary graduate I was involved in a head-on car crash (not my fault!) that put me in hospital for 9 months with multiple leg bone fractures, the compound comminuted right femur one of which could not be plated or pinned. Hence, triple hip-spiker plaster cast over the whole of my chest, abdomen and both legs for 7 months during an abnormally hot summer to make a very smelly and uncomfortable body.
Utter joy when the plaster finally came off combined with irrational fear that if anything or anyone touched me my “brittle bones” would fracture again. Then, the great terror, followed closely by sheer delight, when I was winched up and immersed in a big, stainless steel tank of warm water in the physiotherapy department. Same thing next day but this time I was ready and smuggled a bar of soap into the water with me and when the physio’s attention was diverted, I was able to have the most divine feeling wash of my “rotting body”. Much abuse followed as they felt they had to empty the tank and refill it with fresh water. But it was worth it. That long overdue wash beat even the best sex for sheer eroticism!