How many of you have ever thought about the act of
walking? We certainly take it for granted once we learn to
walk by around one year of age. But...take away the ability and how
would you feel?
As most of my regular readers know, I broke my ankle mid-September and
was in a freakishly stylish boot that I nicknamed Frank (short for Frankenstein) for seven
weeks! Also, for those of you who have followed me for years now, do you recall my back operation
when my spine
was fused in three spots and seven pins were drilled in to keep everything in place? Now - picture me
with this boot that raises me about 4 inches higher on one side and you'll know
why I called the boot Frank....
well, maybe it should have been Igor....but I digress.
A
week after breaking my ankle (in two places, by the
way) I had to see an orthopedic surgeon
who would check to see if I needed to have an operation to pin it together.
When we arrived at the hospital, Lorne got me into a
wheelchair because I
was not to put any
weight on the foot yet. As a result, it had been h...e...double hockey sticks all
week as I tried to hop to and from the most important room of the house. My back
was already killing me along
with the pain in my ankle.
Luckily, I didn't need surgery and I could start to put a bit of
weight on the foot as long as I
wore the boot. And I didn't have to
wear it to bed anymore, either. So that
was a big relief. However, after moving around in the house with one foot 4 inches higher than the other, my hip started acting up. I'm not used to
wearing shoes inside, but I finally figured out that if I
wore my
walking shoe with the boot, it raised that side up a bit more so it
wouldn't be so hard on me.
Counting down the
weeks and finally the days, I arrived once more at the hospital to see the orthopedic surgeon. My ankle was x-rayed and poked and prodded and I was announced "healed." Yes,
well, I still needed to go to physio because all the ligaments and tendons were stiff and inflexible. That was okay
with me and off I
went to make some appointments.
I had had about four sessions
with the physiotherapist and the kinesthesiologist and
was doing great! I found that I could go up the stairs left/right, left/right and could almost do the same coming down. Apparently, it's harder going down because of the angle the foot needs and I
wasn't quite there yet. But I
was again independent, driving, and doing my Christmas shopping
without too much trouble other than tiring quickly.
So guess
what happened! Last
week, I
was going out the door and as I looked back at the dog to tell her to stay, my bad foot
went over! OMG! It hurt like bl**dy h***... and I screamed at Lorne to help me! The pain
was so bad I started crying and saying "Sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t" over and over again. Anyhoo, long story a bit shorter, I
went to my next physio appointment two days later
with a swollen foot that looked like a piece of raw meat
with five red sausage toes. In one session the physio
was able to get the red out and the swelling down almost to normal. I can
walk again (with a limp), am icing my foot every day and am thankful that by Christmas I should be back to normal.
Well, except for my brain that is!
So don't take
walking for granted.
Whenever I see a person on crutches, in a
wheelchair, or pushing a
wheeled walker, I remember to thank God I am better now. I'm also much more open about helping someone out if they look as though they'd
welcome it. As I sat
waiting for Lorne to park the car that first day at the hospital, I
watched people
walking as they passed me. I can still remember how I felt - helpless - and thought about how important it is to be able to
walk.
With that, I'd like to
wish everyone a very
Merry Christmas and will only be posting a short Xmas message next
week in honour of the day.
Warm wishes for a wonderful holiday season!