THE FIRST DRIVE...

After being unable to do so many things for so long, when you first start doing them again, every single one of them feels that little bit more incredible! Think about that first sip of coffee in the morning. A first kiss, a first dance, a first competition win, a first sleep in those fresh bed sheets! Or the first daffodils of spring... The best feelings ever, right?! Now, times that by 100 when you've got weeks worth of built-up frustration and fear from being unable to do those things, and you finally get to experience them again, for the first time.

Once the dreaded scar infection was eventually behind me and the anti-malaria tablets seemed to have done the trick, I really began to motor on with my progress. For me, this meant multiple daily firsts; like when I realised I could get something from the kitchen counter to the table without throwing it.

Or when physio Jeff took my crutches off me and made me walk without them! Initially I just stood there, feeling totally marooned in the middle of the room, utterly terrified as I grabbed for imaginary poles or railings that weren't even there. If it wasn't for him believing in me and telling me I could do it- I'd still be stuck there now. When I tentatively put one foot in front of the other and took those first steps entirely unaided…WOW!!! As long as a dog or small child didn't run into me, or any big gusts of wind and basically everyone stayed the hell away from me- March 2020 style, I’d be fine! I would still maybe take a crutch out with me in crowded places for safety, but my enormous like brace was more than enough to keep people away. Once I stepped foot into the safety of my apartment though, I was going crutchless and braceless now!

For most, this might be enough progress to work with for one week or two- but for me? I was always pushing for more and thinking what I can do next. In my mind this meant only one thing: DRIVING! Now before all you kill joys start, I'd been instructed by my Orthopaedic Doctor three weeks prior to “go for a spin and see how it feels.” It was ME who had been holding off doing it as the gap in my garage I needed to slither into was like a challenge off The Crystal Maze. To look at- I wasn't convinced I could do it, but never one to doubt myself for long, I would give it a go. I also LOVE proving people wrong! Even myself.

‘SOPHIE Vs THE GAP!’- it was like a new game show; twister without the mat. Gladiators, without the muscly opponent and a fractured femur instead! I told dad not to watch me. Wait upstairs and leave me to it, as this could take a while. Step one was to remove my leg brace, because there's no way in hell I was risking scraping its massive metal dial along Pedro’s body work. Windows fully down so I could reach in and slide the seat fully back, creating more space. Here goes…

After God knows how long, I managed to slither in, swinging my leg over the door after doing a half split and resting my fabulous femur safely on its little ledge, where it could chill out as it wasn't needed with PDK transmission. I WAS IN! Turn the ignition and... He started up! Go on Pedro! That's my boy! When I carefully reversed out, dad was outside the garage cheering in disbelief. As soon as he heard the engine start up, he'd raced down to see if it was true. I have no idea how I managed it either but I’m now accepting job opportunities as a contortionist.

He waved me off like a 17 year old who just passed their test and was embarking on their first solo drive. That's honestly how it felt. I was a heady mix of excitement and nerves like I’d just picked up Pedro from the showroom again and squealed all the way home.

I had three of my favourite car missions to complete: Petrol, the Costa drive through, then blasting through the airport tunnels. All of which I find thrilling! Only the best E5 for Pedro! After re-strapping on my leg brace, I stood there proudly at the pump like I was giving my child their favourite drink. Then I limped across the forecourt with no crutches and went in to pay. (That did feel a bit scary, but everyone got out of my way pretty sharpish!) As I hobbled, but in my mind- strutted back to my car, I felt every inch the Rockstar! That was until I realised getting back in it was an absolute shit show.

The Costa drive through would be easier. I could remain seated and the only embarrassment felt would be spending £3.60 on a coconut milk cortado. I might as well have screamed “TAKE MY MONEY!” down the microphone as I was that excited. After driving around for several hours, buzzing off caffeine and new driver excitement, I knew it was time to call it a day when I totally lost the back end, accelerating a little too hard coming out of a bend. Normally it would have been fine, but it was slightly damp conditions, I was more than slightly giddy and somehow forgot about the sheer amount of power I had behind me from the mid-engine, thrusting through the rear wheels. It was a little bit too dramatic for my liking as I zigzagged out of the bend with my steering wheel spinning round, and the oncoming cars opposite probably thinking they were about to die. Time to go home Sophie!

Twitchy rear moments aside- it was a successful first drive. When I was in my car, driving along in my happy place, I felt normal! No one would have any idea there was anything wrong with me, or that I was in fact nursing the mother of all bone breaks. Just don't ask me to get out of my car- then it all goes to shit. To calm my post drive excitement, I literally spent ALL DAY ringing round mobility companies trying to give away my no longer needed mobility aids. You would not believe how hard it is to give away free stuff! My mind was blown.

“Oh, we don't need those.”

“Oh, we only go as far as Stockport…”

“Oh sorry, we don't cover that postcode. That's too far.”

Where do I live now? Fucking Narnia? I decided to save that mission for another day. Now I’d started driving again the world would open up! (As long as no one parked directly next to me because then I couldn't open my door fully to swing my leg out.)

I could drive myself to some of my many appointments now. Just not the hospital ones. I’d Uber to those as hospital parking is an utter nightmare and it would be cheaper to Uber than curb an alloy. I was rapidly gaining confidence without my crutches, yet still feeling protection from Leggy the leg brace.

As long as no one body slammed me in Sainsbury’s, I’d be fine! I couldn't wait to strut my stuff for the orthopaedic specialist at my next appointment. I was hoping I didn't get into trouble for ‘going rogue’ and going crutchless… He seemed unimpressed with me at first but that might’ve just been his demeanour, so imagine my surprise when he said I could ditch the leg brace! On one condition: I'd have to go back to using just one crutch. I needed something to signal to people that I was still in recovery and still a long way from ‘normal’ again. Also, what if I got tired and my fabulous femur decided to crumble under me as it often felt? OK, fine. One crutch it is. But I wasn't wild about it. I was soon to learn that people treat you very differently with just one crutch and no leg brace, and I didn't like it at all…