Learning to walk

I've been going to physiotherapy twice a week since I recovered sufficiently from my accident. Most of the time, the treatment is "traditional" - massages and exercises of various kinds. Most weeks, the flexibility of my left foot is measured with a tape measure, which gives an idea of how much progress is being made (it seems that in the past week I have made negative progress).

This isn't to imply that everything is traditional: today I spent six minutes on an exercise bicycle, pedalling at just over 20 kph, and so managed to "travel" a shade over two kilometres. During most visits I also have ultrasound treatment; as opposed to the kind of ultrasound with which the body is explored (not only during pregnancies; I had a chest ultrasound a few months ago), this kind warms up the muscles within. To misquote an advert for beer from my childhood, it reaches muscles that other kinds of treatments can't. Presumably these treatments do have some effect although it's not obvious.

But today we made the leap into the 21st century with a neat piece of medical technology. In order to measure how well I am walking, an inflatable sole was inserted into my shoe. This sole has pressure sensors within, and is connected to a control box which was strapped to my leg with velcro. In turn, this box transmitted its telemetry to a nearby computer. When walking, one places pressure first on the heel and then on the toes; the apparatus measured how much pressure I was applying to these two areas.

Walking 'normally' with the apparatus showed that I was applying 100% of the 'normal' pressure on my left heel but only 50% of the normal pressure on my toes. The apparatus was then switched into learning/feedback mode, which meant that it beeped whenever I applied the correct amount of pressure on my toes. Whilst walking in this mode, I realised that I had been pressing my heel and then the arch (the area just before the toes) on the ground, but not the toes themselves (because it still hurts slightly). In order to get the apparatus beeping, I had to walk making sure that I touch three areas on the ground: heel, then arch, and then push off with the toes. After a few practice runs, in order to learn the new technique, the apparatus was put back into diagnostic mode; my heel pressure had reduced to 80%, whereas my toe pressure had increased to 80%.

I am reminded of an incident in a book by Robert Silverberg called 'The second trip', in which a 'newborn' soul is transported into an adult body. In the first few pages, the character has to teach himself how to walk in a foreign body, and he strides down a boulevard muttering "heel and toe, heel and toe". In real life, we learn how to walk in the second year of our life, and the technique becomes imbedded in a neural pathway, allowing us to perform the action without thinking about it again. So for the next few days, I am going to have to walk with a conscious style, in order to teach my brain what to do.

I have to reburn that neural pathway and teach myself again how to walk properly.