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Josephine Jewkes,
The Cost of Being Injured | |||||||
Josephine Jewkes, dancer with Rambert and formerly an ENB Principal, writes each month on the "dancing life". Here is a link to the previous column in the series.Sat 8th November - The least six weeks have passed in a frustrating blur of pain and inaction. To summarise: an X-ray revealed a small cloud of calcification in a ligament close to the joint and my orthopaedic surgeon recommended an injection directly into the area to disperse it. Having tried three weeks of physiotherapy and osteopathy, this seemed to be the last resort. As I mentioned in my October Dancing Times article, the NHS-versus-private-treatment dilemma reared its ugly head right on cue. I 'phoned around, checking prices and arrangements for private treatment in desperation, as it seemed that the prospect of being seen on the NHS before the year 2000 was remote. Now for the fund-raising . My mother offered to pick up the tab from her rainy-day fund to cover the £480 hospital fee (1 bed unused for 3 hrs stay) as a day-care patient; anaesthetist £100; surgeon £150. Total cost: £730. Out of the blue a gallant White Knight comes galloping into the picture with a substantial contribution to the Jo Jewkes Humpty Dumpty Fund, and I finally persuade (shame) Rambert into pledging one third. The operation was the easy bit. (I was out for the count anyway). Out I hobble on crutches later that afternoon, my rear end decorated with a discreet puncture mark amid the cerise disinfectant liberally daubed thereabouts. This was on October 13 . Three weeks later and I am still on crutches, to the puzzlement of my surgeon who proposes a bone scan. My time is spent lying on my stomach in bed in the only position which does not hurt, pouring myself two scalding hot baths a day and trying to work out how to carry a full bowl of cat food whilst wielding said crutches. My bedroom is awash with wedding magazines as I take advantage of my enforced rest to plan the happy event which will take place on 27 December. No designs included for crutches to match the bride's dress, though. Perhaps I could set a trend wreathe them with garlands of roses, maybe? My dear friend and rival columnist, Christopher Hampson takes advantage of my misfortune to invite me to lunch with the immortal line: "I'd like to grab you by the crutch and take you round to the pub". A flying visit to a Rambert show at High Wycombe, chauffered door-to-door by my colleagues, reminds me of a world which seems increasingly remote. I watch "Greymatter" (in which I was due to be the bag-lady with shopping trolley) detachedly, as an appreciative member of the public. The daily bus ride to the physiotherapist is 'educational'. Elderly gentlemen leap out of their seats when they see me. People in the streets eye me shiftily, as if they feel guilty for being healthy when I am not. Others simply stare, looking for plaster casts, withered limbs or bleeding stumps ..(Okay, maybe not bleeding stumps). On Friday 31 October I reach my ultimate low point to date. I panic about being on half salary after the first month of injury (and then on the dole the month after that as set out in my Rambert contract) as this seems a very likely eventuality. I took a pay cut of one third anyway to join this company, so life is not looking too good. (Thank God for those far-sighted souls who set up the Dancers' Resettlement Fund to which all major GB companies contribute who offer advice and financial assistance to dancers wanting to retrain for another job after at least 10 years as a professional dancer). I break down in tears of despair and my physiotherapy session turns into a psychotherapy session instead. The not-knowing is frustrating: not knowing what the problem is and not knowing when my NHS bone scan can be scheduled. Next week? Next month? Who knows and who can tell? I try intermittently to maintain some body tone with gentle floor exercises on that familiar living room carpet, but it is a losing battle. My loving mother calls in regularly to shop, cook, clean and chat. My fiancι, Tim Almaas, is touring abroad with Peter Schaufuss's company and so can only 'phone and fax me his sympathy and love. Weeks of home alone with the cats stretch ahead. The physio counsels patience. PATIENCE? Finally this week come some rays of hope. Rambert offer to pay for the bone scan to be performed privately and a date for two days later is set, also masseur Jos Wieval comes from Holland for his customary fortnight every so many months to treat the Rambert members. On Monday 3 November he applied his elbow to my spasm'd gluteal muscles for one hour with agonising effect. I limped out of the room with on his instructions no crutches, went home and clapped a bag of crushed ice to the furious muscles. This scenario has been repeated in a crescendo of agony every day this week as he probes deeper in search of the deep muscles which are (in his opinion) torquing the hip-joint out of its true alignment and causing the jaw-clenching 'grinding' feeling within the socket. So much improvement has been made in six days that I can run for the bus now, though climbing stairs is uncomfortable, and turning-out my leg unthinkable. However, progress has been made, the bone scan delayed and my thoughts of retirement put back in the cupboard for the moment, though I can still hear the bones rattling. And the cause of all this trouble, dear readers? An enthusiastic choreographer and an impatient and perfectionist dancer repeating one certain extreme and demanding movement from Swansong over and over and over again. (It's still not right). PS. On a more cheerful note, after the operation saga was concluded, Rambert applied to the Royal Ballet Benevolent Fund who granted a generous allocation to cover the costs incurred. Grateful as I am (which is very), it makes one wonder how a dance company can function without either insuring or budgeting for its injured dancers. Relying on handouts does not seem to be very sound policy. We are, however, assured that, precarious as Rambert's finances are (which is very), improvements to this policy are in hand. So watch this space.
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