But actually, the last few weeks, though very unpleasant and frustrating at times, have been far better than I could have ever imagined.
I have had copious amounts of tea made for me by my lovely visitors, while we sit in my kitchen, eat cake, and I regale them with stories of my vicious fight with the cockerel, and my marriage proposal to the paramedic (who gave me lots of gas and air and morphine), and the fact I now have a metal rod in my leg and feel like a bit of a hero.
I have been brought homemade cookies, curries, Chocolate Oranges, wine, scones (with jam and cream) olives, ginger cake, laxatives, flowers, biscuits, magazines, Revels, pies, homeopathy remedies, soup, Fruit Pastilles, and lasagnes.
And the kindness has even extended to friends cleaning my house from top to bottom, while I lay on my bed eating chocolate and watching a rom com on Netflix, being whisked away to Pizza Express, and to the pub.
Having a broken leg also forces you into a very slow existence, which I'm beginning to think is really rather nice. When else would you get away with taking a blissful hour to have a shower and brush your teeth?
So although I cannot wait to be able to leave the house at will, and walk down the stairs without fear of breaking my neck, it has most certainly not been all bad...