I have accepted this process, this being in rehab, this waiting. Whatever will be, will be. With a look at my vision boards and resolve of determination I head down to the gym.
I find my balance has already improved from yesterday and I am able to stand easily on the squidgy thing. Yesterday I could barely stand for more than a few seconds but today I find it really easy. Chris won’t have this and ups the challenge.
Right, it’s now time to master the one-legged squats and calf raises on it.
An elderly lady in a matching floral top and skirt marvels at my balance and asks me if I was a ballerina or had been a dancer.
This is a first. I have never been accused of being graceful before.
Chris says he struggles to do it on two legs. I feel quite proud. This place is doing wonders for my self-esteem.
He keeps throwing different more and more challenging exercises at me. He says his aim is for me to be exhausted, to hurt tomorrow. Triceps dips on the parallel bars, harder ab exercises, bridges on the swiss ball.
I love the challenge. Mum jokes that it is like the Biggest Loser House. I just exercise all day and have my own personal trainer on hand. Biggest Loser is my guilty pleasure and I have always wanted to go on the show so I am loving this.
I struggle with the ab exercises so I vow to practice them later in my room so I can master them tomorrow.
After the three physio sessions and a session with Nicole on the cross-trainer, bike and technogym I am exhausted.
This is more like it.
That night the nurse serves me with my tentative discharge date. 30.1.13. Three weeks away. But that is to be expected and at least there is a concrete date I can focus on.
And this whole Biggest Loser thing, isn’t so bad really.