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!
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!