Re-Entry Time: How it Really Feels to be "Back"

I knew that I would not sleep last night hardly at all and I was right. My body felt tired enough around midnight but my mind was clicking away, worrying a bit about an inservice I was scheduled to give this morning on my first day back at work in three months. I also had no idea what it would feel like to be "back" among everyone I work with, having been out of the loop on the usual inside jokes that you tend to miss out on when you cannot walk without crutches.

I made the mistake of watching the season finale of "Dexter", you know the show with the serial killer who has a "code", meaning he "only" kills people who have it coming! Well, spoiler alert if you are a fan and haven't seen the season 4 finale: Dexter's long suffering, naive but very devoted wife, Rita, ends up murdered in the last 60 seconds of the episode. Dexter has just put down yet another serial killer (played eerily by John Lithgow) but, as he is doing so, Lithgow's character murmurs, "It's already over...." which is a tip off that he has done in Rita before Dexter could track him down and chop him up for tomorrow's leftovers. All this said, it did NOT help my sleeping mood one bit!

But on to less deadly situations which is my return to work. I surprised myself (and, I think, a few of my co-workers) by giving them hugs when they welcomed me back. I was truly trying to set the tone, that of the "kinder, gentler Cyndia" who could walk in(with some obvious pain and difficulty still) and be immediately....kinder and gentler! I still had a gnawing sense of anxiety in my stomach as I walked to my office, saying hello to others and realizing I had to do this inservice in less than 15 minutes. Right from the beginning, despite my PDA (public displays of affection), I could tell something felt "off" to me. Not surprisingly, I did quite well with my presentation, feeling comfortable with the topic and feeling like I was holding peoples' attention pretty well. But, as soon as the meeting ended, I saw everyone go off into their various "pods", giggling and conversing about their patients, while I collected my papers and really felt a strong sense of isolation. It is fair to say that this isolation was most likely coming from me, not my co-workers, but it still didn't make me feel all that great.

As I went through a number of work duties, a few people stuck their heads in to say hi and welcome back and that was nice....but still I felt "off". The morning went by pretty quickly and I stayed busy, but was always aware of the conversations in the hallway that I had no reference point for because I didn't know who they were talking about (how could I, I hadn't been there for three months) and feeling no strong urge to get up and mingle. By noontime, a huge sense of fatigue came over me that didn't leave until I finally left at 2:00. I made the mistake (hindsight is always 20/20) of being a little too unfiltered, meaning that when people asked me "How is it to be back?" I paused a moment and said, truthfully, "Kind of weird, plus I'm really tired for some reason." Why couldn't I just be Perky Pam and say (a la Tony the Tiger) "Why, it's grrrrrrreat to be here and I feel like a million bucks!" Ah, well.

My supervisor has been put through the mill in my absence and, while I know she is glad I'm back, she kind of kept her distance today which surprised me a bit. I knew she was busy, but I guess I thought I rated a little more fervor than what I got from her. Later, it hit me: she is probably a little pissed that I've been gone these last three months, causing her a lot more work and responsibility and then, when I come back after three months of sleeping in late and daytime TV, I have the nerve to say it's only "kind of OK" to be back and, even worse, that I'm "really tired". I mean, who the f**k do I think I am??

I'm sure things will iron themselves out as I get my feet wet and feel more acclimated to the new environment but still it was unsettling for me. I was determined to not walk back in and be swamped by any negative attitude going on yet I do believe some of it was emanating from within me, not just from those around me. Sometimes it sucks to be so insightful that you truly know when it's "all about you"!

Free at Last, Free at Last!

Not to sound too much like Martin Luther King, but indeed I do feel "free at last" in terms of getting official clearance (on 12/9/09) to begin driving again and to start back to work on 12/14/09 pretty much full-time.

Yesterday marked three months (that's 90+ days for those of you who need a total) since my surgery, a time when I was told that I would not be able to drive for three months and that, possibly by around this time, I would finally be able to wear a soft shoe, not just a CAM boot any longer. I bought some nice sneakers with velcro straps on them that have been fine for my physical therapy appointments and for wearing when I go out and they are a nice change from the usual stiff-backed boot or splints I was wearing in the very beginning.

Today in physical therapy was tough, but it was even more evident that I'd gone on to a new phase soon after I left. I had a terrible time walking without limping, as my achilles tendon had just been worked pretty well, even though the exercises didn't seem all THAT gruelling when I was doing them. I made the mistake of going to the grocery store right after my appointment and it didn't take long until my PT worker's words rang true: "You're going to start having some pain, some swelling, and it's going to feel like a setback at first because, in phase one, it was just massaging the foot and ankle and doing some partial weight bearing. Now we need to move on to full weight bearing and stretching the very muscle that, for two months, you were told to stay OFF of." So I shuffled rather feebly down a few grocery aisles, got what I needed, then shuffled home where I could plop on the couch and do some light massage on my now sore tendon. Think it's going to be an interesting re-entry back to world of walking again! When I saw my surgeon yesterday, she pretty much signed me off of Workers Compensation though she did agree to have me return to work for six hours a day for the first two weeks, then back up to my usual 7.5 hours, so worker's comp will still pay a small portion of my salary but not for very much longer.

I immediately started to feel my wheels turning about going back to work, where our census is down, staff are not happy, and management may be looking to make more cuts in hours. A co-worker visited me earlier this week who pretty much summed it up as "it sucks there right now" which, again, put me on notice that whatever relaxation I may have gotten these past twelve weeks will be greatly challenged when I step back through the doors of my agency next week. That said, I know I will need to focus on staying within myself and not letting too much stress stick to me. I have been deep in the thick of the toxic work environment several times before in my life and know very steadfastly that I don't want to go back there....ever again! My co-worker shared with me that she had gotten some startling health news recently that was helping her re-evaluate what was important to her/not important and I realized I felt very much the same way. Being "out of the loop" made me terribly anxious at first, and now, conversely, I feel that way about being IN it. It should be interesting to see how much I can remain within my bubble of calm and self-improvement as I re-enter a busy, chaotic workplace.

The most important thing to me now is my continued recovery and progress in walking properly and without pain. I am certainly NOT there yet. I also need to work at getting off those 6-7 pounds I feel I have put on (some of my clothes are definitely tighter) and just having a regular program of exercise that I can tolerate. I have a home Ellyptical machine that I love to use but I don't think I'll be up to that task for awhile. So, I have to find new and different ways to get my heart rate up without taxing my recuperating body. This should, indeed, be quite "interesting" to experience.

Attending to Thanksgiving with a-Tendon On the Fritz

Sorry for the bad pun but I couldn't resist! Just for the record, if someone ever tries to tell you that cooking isn't more than a little tough on your feet and ankles, tell them to read this blog.

Expecting a total of six of us for Thanksgiving dinner today, and knowing how much I enjoy the leftovers, I purposely got a larger than usual turkey - right around 20 pounds. That's just fine if you are a linebacker for the New England Patriots, but toting the damned bird around back and forth from kitchen island to other counter to stovetop and then into the oven, and then back out again four hours later is no easy feat. Not just that, but, since my partner had gone back to bed to catch up on some lost sleep, I did this all by myself, including the even neater trick of getting it into the Reynolds Oven Bag (wish there had been a camera filming me at that point). Anyway, the dinner went just fine and everything was perfectly yummy but, as we all plopped down in the living room to watch a movie after stuffing ourselves, I noticed a rather large "egg" on my ankle meaning I was swelling up quickly from the long ordeal I'd been through. Out came the familiar ice pack/package of frozen vegetables and, before too long, it subsided and thanked me for taking a breather!

One thing I must have decided early on, going back to just after my surgery took place and I could barely get up off my couch: this was NOT going to defeat me or prevent me from still having a life. In the past two months, I have been on a walker, crutches, a CAM boot, then just down to one crutch and finally walking (at times) with soft velcro-fastening sneakers that are nice and comfy and "real shoes". This is a nice progression when you think about it and I owe a lot of it to obeying my doctor and physical therapist and not pushing things beyond what is comfortable....until today. Doing battle with a twenty pound, slippery, cold, wet bird left me feeling like I was the victim of a TKO (technical knock out!), at least for a little while.

But I have to say it was worth it. Everyone thoroughly enjoyed the meal (and thanks, Mom, for the awesome stuffing you always made which I continue to make now many years later - there was hardly any left!), and, even better, we enjoyed each other's company, had a lot of laughs and topped things off with a bizarre comedy called "Lars and the Real Girl". In other words, everyone was happy before, during and after this very long day. So, for anyone who is dreading or has already gone through a ruptured achilles tendon surgery, just take this much to heart: even though your life will change dramatically for a few months, you WILL still enjoy Thanksgiving, a large turkey with great stuffing and, best of all, the kid in you who always enjoyed these holidays should survive intact...if you just attend to it from time to time and, just once in a while, break a few rules! Just make sure to ice down any swelling and no one will ever be the wiser. :-)

Look, Ma, no Crutches!

I know I am a bit ahead of schedule in actually taking a few steps without ANY assistive device, but I am being careful and only doing so in the house. Sometimes I have the CAM boot on, sometimes not, and this draws a little consternation from Lucy but, throughout this whole ordeal, I have been listening to what my body says and it has been telling me this is OK, just testing the waters!

The past two weeks of physical therapy have involved enjoying a nice manual stimulation of the foot and ankle in the office, then ending each session with learning some new range of motion exercises that I am to do at home. In the first session, I blanched when PT guy told me to point my foot up towards me (meaning in a stretch exercise). My mind said "can't do it without it feeling weird" but my foot went ahead and did it anyway. He has also had me rock the foot from side to side, around in small circles each way and, just last week, I sat on the edge of my couch with both feet on the floor and slowly pulled up my right heel (leaving the ball of the foot on the floor) ten times, and then pulled up the ball of my foot, (leaving the heel on the floor). The most exhausting one of all consists of lying on my back and putting a large pillow between my feet, then pressing in on the pillow with each foot (so the toes are aimed at the center of the pillow), holding this for ten seconds each time. It certainly has put me in touch with muscles I haven't used for a while! I have never felt any pain doing these exercises, just a very tight feeling right around the ankle, like something in there is encased in cement and needs a lot of wiggle room!

I had the ultimate frustration on Friday because Lucy had a health issue and needed to go to her doctor's, with the hope that she would be back in time to take me to physical therapy. As luck would have it, the doctor ordered her to go to the E.R. for some tests meaning I had to get a taxi both ways (to the tune of about $30.00), but that really wasn't the worst part. Because I had no way of knowing that my partner would end up in the E.R., I wasn't there to support her or just be at her side during the several hours she was there. Some friends in the area came over and sat with her, even having her sleep over at their house that evening because she was in no shape to drive. I sat her alone in my home wishing I could be with her but then, realizing later, it was probably good that I didn't go because there would have been TWO of us needing a place to crash that night, and these friends have a small apartment and, for some reason, I am more allergic there to their animal hair/dander than I am here and I always suffer for it. Still, it was just one of those times when my inability to drive and be independent left me feeling kind of sorry for myself and also for my partner having to go through something without me.

If all goes as it has been going so far, it looks like I could be back at work three weeks from tomrrow. My executive director has already gleefully slated me to do an inservice the very morning I return, to educate our staff on boundaries which is something, in Hospice care, you always need a little tune-up on. I do find it kind of ironic that I am coming back to teach about boundaries when my health has forced me to erect one of my own these past few months in order to best take care of myself. Maybe that's the whole point of having me do this lecture my very first day back to work: who would know better than me how it feels to take a giant step back from the "fire" and just enjoy the warmth rather than be part of it!

Progressing "Ahead of Schedule"

When my physical therapist told me last Thursday that, after just three sessions, he saw me as "progressing ahead of schedule", I felt like an elementary school kid who just got a gold star! Having never really made peace with my body for as long as I have been an adult, it felt nice to have a near-total stranger say that it/I had done something not only right, but "ahead of schedule". It's interesting how something a medical professional may say to dozens of people of week stands out to someone like me.

The countdown is on for when I am due to see my surgeon again (December 9th) and, if all goes well, be cleared to start working again, probably the following week. I am taking brief and careful steps around the house without the CAM boot on, but always with a crutch supporting me and it has been going just fine. Most of the time, of course, I play it straight and wear the boot whenever I am in motion and I still do wear it to bed which is always tempting to "forget" to do. What a mess it makes the covers after a night of flopping from side to side with the RoboCop Megaboot catching on everything!

Anyway, as the start of "back to my real life" gets closer, I find myself especially treasuring the time I have now to myself, to rest, to get things done I would usually put off for months, reconnect with people often and really enjoy these eight lovable creatures in my house: Angie, Jazzy, Little Girl, Winston (the lone male in the group), Gracie, Josephine, Catherine and Abby. They have all, in their own way, made this whole thing bearable and frequently let me know I am not alone. I have been so fortunate to have family and friends who keep tabs on me and a partner who puts up with idiosyncracies I let few people see. So, as we move ahead to the next chapter of walking without an assistive device and also without pain or a limp, getting back to driving again, working full-time, etc., I think I can honestly say there was a lot of good that has come out of something initially devastating. If only that could be true for everyone who goes through such an ordeal!

Getting Reaquainted with "That Foot"

On October 28th, I got the good news that I could transition into a CAM boot again, do some partial weight bearing and, best of all, bathe "normally", get the foot wet, massage lotion on to it, and, basically, get back in touch with that part of my body that has been so protected and even off limits for two months. Nearly two weeks later, I have dabbed some lotion on it from time to time and massaged it but have yet to take a full shower or really get too close to the affected area. I call it the "ewwww" phase, one where you step back emotionally from your own body after it's been sliced up, stitched, swollen and basically a pain in your butt, and feel more than a little leery about embracing it fully.

Back in 1985, when I had to have my gallbladder out, I went through a very similar phase. This was "back in the day" before laser surgery, so I had the old fashioned zipper on my side where the gallbladder was extracted and, during the first week of post-op, I had a lovely little "bile bag" laying atop my abdomen where bile was being diverted away from the surgical site so it wouldn't cause inflammation; the bile would accumulate until a nurse emptied it every few hours. I kept this part of me very well hidden, out of my sight, covered with my johnny or a blanket at all times, and, when the nurse came in to do her thing, I got a crick in my neck from straining to look the other way for those five minutes!

At one of those nursing visits, my mother was there and she was going through the opposite of the "ewwww" phase: the "ahhhhh!" phase. In other words, what I found revolting to look at, she found absolutely fascinating: "wow, Cyndie, you should see this! There's this little bag that is literally drawing the fluid away from your wound and...." I told her as nicely as I could that we were on different pages and could she please keep her "ahhing" to herself! But, to this day, that is one thing about my mother that definitely keeps her young, even at 80 years old: her ability to see wonder where others may see blight.

Fast forward to where I am now and it is a little bit like it was then: I very gingerly touch the back of my foot, feel how downright hard it is there from the scar tissue and the healing incision, and I say "ewwww" but, 24 years after my gallbladder operation, I can manage at least a partial "ahhh", especially now that physical therapy has begun. I go to this great guy in private practice (nothing like going to a clinic) and, because he is so good at what he does and how he does it, it can be hard to get appointments (though I can usually get in if there is a cancellation). I saw him on Friday, 11/6, and, right away knew I was in good hands. He massaged my foot and ankle, had me do some toe pointing upwards, and to each side, and most importantly, urged me to "start getting reaquainted with this foot that has caused you so much grief the past couple of months".

I reminded him that "that foot" has been the bane of my existence since the beginning of the year: I had such pain, I could hardly walk due to tight tendons in my ankle (which one cortisone shot did wonders for, but then it wore off), then I was diagnosed with a bone spur, I got another useless shot, then went on a contraption called a Dyna-Splint meant to stretch that tendon and then, finally, in August, I fell at my office, ruptured the very tendon I have been stretching all these months and here I am. It wasn't until I did that "year in review" with my therapist that it hit me: all of what has happened thus far has, indeed, led me to where I am now. At least now there is hope, the worst appears to be behind me, and, better yet, I am starting to reclaim a body that has, of late, been a disappointment to me. The only way to re-claim, however, is to admit you may never have claimed it to begin with....well, there is no time like the present!

This Boot is Made for Walkin'!

Back on September 8, when I first met Dr. Arcand, my surgeon, she said with a serious look on her face, "It will be three months before you can drive again...." waiting for my jaw to slowly close. She then spelled out the timeline after my surgery: "You will be non weight bearing for at least 4 if not 6 weeks. Then, if your healing looks good to me, I'll get you back in to the CAM boot and we'll start you on physical therapy."

Well, this past Wednesday marked six weeks since my surgery and, at my doctor's appointment that day, without much fanfare, Dr. Arcand said, "It looks good" and nodded me for to go ahead and put on the CAM boot I had brought along but had not stepped in to since our first office visit. The splint and ace bandage came off, revealing a truly grotesque foot (out of sight, out of mind, and totally gross). It was just covered with layers of dead, peeling skin, plus it looked like something out of a pirate movie: the last splint had been rather tightly applied and so my normal half leg (regular girth) was now nearly twice as big as the part of my calf and ankle that had been wrapped. I was told quickly that this should settle down in time, but eek, did it look nasty!

She gave me a prescription for physical therapy (which I can't get started on until November 6th because the guy I prefer to use, who is in private practice is booked up). She also told me a couple of pieces of good news for a change: I can do some partial weight bearing, such as a pivot from bed to chair and even so far as using one crutch on my affected side to take the weight off the right foot and moving around the house a little. The other big news is I can finally bathe like a normal person again....though I have yet to do this! I don't have a shower chair and my partner has been working overnight shifts all week, so I don't want to try anything too progressive without some help closeby, but be assured I will. My PT will be twice a week for six weeks and then, at our next appointment on December 9th, which is exactly 12 weeks after my surgery (meaning the all important three month mark), I should be cleared to drive and be totally weight bearing. Yahoo!

My partner, Lucy, in just the past few days, is already clucking about my overdoing it in terms of traipsing around the house on one crutch and even doing the stairs this way (albeit very slowly) but I'm letting my body tell me how fast/slow to go. I have always listened to it in the past when it comes to recovery and this time is no different. I have read many blogs by other post-surgical ATR patients who were partial weight bearing in 4 weeks and I have heeded the posts by some others who say, "at the first sign of pain or weirdness, STOP." So far, so good!

I've done well with my four hours a day working from home and my doctor is going to keep me on that schedule until we next meet. So, it does appear I won't be back in my office in any steady capacity until at least December 10th, something I know my supervisor will wish was a lot earlier. Still, I have to say I've accomplished a lot of work at home thus far: I have just about gotten caught up on the backlog of bereavement telephone calls that went undone in my absence, put in a proposal for a major conference next Spring, and am also setting up a very overdue Ethics Committee meeting that I am chair of. Not bad for a gimp with a limp, huh? Stay tuned for more fun and frolic as I attempt slalom downhill skiing....just kidding, NEVER gonna happen!

Working from Home...and the Walls are Closin' In!

Something that is not uncommon to hear a newly bereaved spouse or adult child tell me as a bereavement counselor is how they miss the very chaos that once drove them crazy. The constant phone calls, nursing visits, trips to the drug store,etc. All of it is exhausting when you are caring for a loved one and, of course on a different level, the same is true for those of us who do Hospice work. It is not for just anybody and yet, if it is for you, you really do go through a sort of withdrawal when you haven't done it for awhile...like me.

I began a slow return to work via putting in four hours a day on my home computer and telephone to make bereavement calls, sit in on meetings and document a number of things on my work computer through an amazing high tech option called "VPN" - don't ask me what it stands for, but it means you can access your work computer from your home computer and, get this, even print a work document to your work printer from home. Pretty cool stuff.I didn't realize how much I missed my own chaos until I took over four weeks off from it. I love my home, my cats, my computer station, my stack of books (still mostly unread) and even the Netflix videos I have coming in every other day...but it's not the same as having a consistent structure within which people need you, appreciate you calling, and your co-workers let you know unabashedly that they have missed you, your presence, even your warped humor.

I did my four hours rather effortlessly and had a lot of catching up to do on some things that had to be left for when I returned to work. In this past week, I spoke with some really sweet but hurting people who have lost loved ones and felt very relaxed and, here's the keyword, RESTED as I attended to them. Not only have I had this long hiatus, but I was also able to attend to people within the comfort of my own home. At the office, people are constantly popping in, the phone is almost always ringing and I am pretty much at the mercy of the pace of the working environment. Here at home, I have a list of calls to make, notes to enter into medical records, but it's extremely quiet...and, would you believe, it's kind of getting to me!

My partner has been working a lot away from home so I am having a lot more alone time than I am having time with friends and family. It's okay, but it's starting to wear on me a little. Lucy and I went out several nights ago to have a late night hamburger and I just reveled in actually being somewhere that had NOISE! Normally I abhor the sounds of plasma televisions in the background, but it was the night that the Phillies clinched another trip to the World Series, so it was kind of fun to eat some good food and occasionally glimpse over to see the score.

My four hours a day restriction is in effect through November 4th after which I may get the green light to go to five or six. But the reality still is that I can't drive until the three month mark which would be mid-December (unless I get an earlier clearance) so I think it will still be awhile before I grace my office and get back to a normal existence. Still, I'm just glad I have one foot back in the door and can truly appreciate the saying: You don't know what you've got till it's gone. In my situation, it's not "gone", but it sure has been missing in action!

Second Follow-Up with MD and other headlines

I hit the four week mark yesterday, October 14th, in my recovery from my surgery and actually have to confess it went by quicker than I thought. The first two weeks dragged a little because I had little company with me but then my sister visited, friends started dropping by regularly, and another friend from out of state also stayed a few days and made me feel well cared for. Before I knew it, I was actually having to carve out time to NOT be occupied with something or somebody, but I enjoyed it while it lasted.

Yesterday, I saw Dr. Arcand for my second follow-up and there were few surprises. She is quite pleased with my healing wound, no infection noted, nor has there been any pain or tingling like others have reported on their blogs. She had the splint and ace bandages removed and underneath it all was one nasty looking dry, shriveled up foot! I know it just needs some major treatment with Burts Bees lotion (which works wonders on dry skin if you have never tried it!) so I got over my attack of vanity pretty quickly.

She had another splint put on but this one just runs along the back of my calf to just past my toes and is held in place by one layering of ace bandage. This means it's very light, not bulky, and much easier to manage when I'm in bed. The plan is for me to see her again in two weeks at which time she will have me put the CAM boot back on for a trial run. This feels like positive progress to me (as if ANY progress could be negative, right?) so I felt pleased by the visit. She also felt I could take on 4 hours a day of working from home so I will start that on Monday, October 19th. As I crutched my way out of her office to the appointment desk, feeling pretty upbeat, I took a rather embarassing and unexpected semi-tumble but was caught by my partner, Lucy, before I could hit the ground. Lucy definitely seemed more startled than I did! A very nice office worker named Sue promptly got me into a wheelchair and carted me outside, waiting with me for Lucy to pull up the car which scored major points with me. I have encountered some really nice people during this process and Sue was one of them.

Today involved a number of calls between myself and my Human Resources worker who overloaded my brain by verbalizing all the necessary changes that are upcoming due to my going back to 20 hours per week. Of course, my worker's comp check will be duly reduced (and I got a certified letter delivered that drove that point home in black and white), and my sick time still needs to be used to pay for my medical insurance, 403b contribution, etc. I told her very quietly that "I'm really a visual person so could you send this to me in an e-mail??" She said sure, but continued outlining all the numbers and facts and figures while I silently tuned her out, trying to just stayed relaxed while she very intently rattled off all the details. I joked to a friend on the phone a little later, "Even Helen Keller's blood pressure would be spiked after a conversation like that!" Oh well.

All in all, I really can't complain too much about things. I've had a nice, extended rest, and have gotten very cozy with my cats. So much so that now Lucy complains "they like YOU better than they like me". I reasoned with her that she is welcome to tear out the largest muscle in her body, have surgery and SHE can sit with the animals to her heart's content! (She declined to accept this kind offer of mine.) If you can go through anything like this and maintain your sense of humor (I have), you can't help but feel you are coming out ahead!

At Last - Back in my own Bed

When this whole ordeal first began, three of my friends met me for dinner and started going down a check list of things I would need for my recovery period. Funny - I hadn't even "gone there" in my own mind. I was quite the denial queen thinking everything would just work out.

One friend insisted I get a "day bed" for my first floor since there would be no way I could do stairs, at least not for a while. I resisted this idea, thinking it will just make my home seem more like Shady Pines than a homey residence. My other friends agreed this would be a great idea because I can sleep on the first floor where everything else is located, including a bathroom. Well, the day bed has been my primary bed since the date of the surgery (9/16/09) with my faithful partner, Lucy, sleeping on the living room couch, right around the corner from me, in case I need anything. What I have needed was sleeping with her back upstairs in our nice queen bed with the flannel sheets, keeping each other warm!

Nearly four weeks later, with me feeling more and more confident about going out for short trips, navigating stairs a few at a time with my walker or crutches, and noticing that my once painful left arm/forearm is much stronger now, I realized I was ready to do the ole "going up the stairs on your butt" trick and coming down the same way. I had zero confidence about navigating stairs just a few weeks ago, in fact I went into brain freeze when I encountered that task, but now it just seems rudimentary to me. So, on Saturday night, for the first time in a while, I very easily went up the stairs via my rear and, once there, pulled myself up to my walker and traipsed into my waiting bed which now had fresh linens on it, all ready for me! I cannot tell you what a huge accomplishment this was for me, so I went and did it all over again last night, too.

Mind you, my first floor cat fan club was a little confused by this move because they have been taking turns smothering me on the day bed, enjoying laying right on top of me, or on my pillow (which is not good because of my allergies to the very animals I adore!). So, early Sunday morning, first one, then two of my felines hopped onto the upstairs bed, walking rather gingerly for a moment and then realized "THERE she is!" and settled right in for a long snooze.

This whole ordeal has been metaphorically a journey of baby steps (pun intended) for me. I am not, by nature, a patient person, so waiting things out, going 1 mile per hour with a walker instead of pacing along quickly, etc., has been a bear for me. But I realized that, when you slow your life down, deprive yourself of some things you sorta kinda took for granted, they are all the more sweet once you rediscover them. I loudly said hello to my second floor for the first time in nearly a month and felt like a kid in a candy store (without the chocolate, of course). So, with some modified work assignments possibly coming up this week, more ease in leaving my home, doing stairs, and managing these wicked support devices, I guess it's fair to say "things could be worse!"

Time for "Modified Duty"

It's ironic that, when I first heard I would need this surgery and would have to be out of work perhaps 1-2 months and could not drive for three whopping months, I naturally panicked. I could not imagine being away from my job for such a long time, and the pressure on me before I left to set up things for whoever would cover for me was very intensive and all encompassing.

Three weeks later, as I face having a return to "modified duty" probably as soon as next week, I find myself feeling very differently, which surprises me. Contrary to worrying about how I will pull this off, I feel calm in knowing that our "tech guy" will set things up so I can communicate with my co-workers via a mobile connection between my computer and the agency's network, plus I also know I have to work from home. Last week, my doctor noted that the only thing I could do in an unrestricted way was to "sit". Standing is limited to 5 minutes at a time for no more than one hour a day and, of course, driving is off limits until probably December.

It's so quiet here in my home during the day that, faced with a list of calls I have to make and documentation to do for those calls, I can't imagine getting too stressed. Also, since I am in no position to make home visits or see people in the office (because I cannot drive there and I doubt the agency will want to risk the liability of having someone pick me up, drop me off, and have to assist me with the pain-in-the-butt transfers associated with all the stairs to my home), I doubt there will be more work to do than I can handle here. It's just odd to imagine doing my job in what is normally a very busy, hectic environment here in my nice quiet home. I think I may be asked to do four hours a day and will need to see if I can really find that much to do that will take four hours, but it's a wait and see kind of thing. The tech guy has been instructed to call me to set up the computer connection and the rest will just have to be day to day.

For anyone reading this who dreads, as I did, the prospect of putting your life and work on hold for an extended period, I can tell you this: it has many plusses along with the minuses. You truly do get extended rest, whether this means you are napping or simply reading a book with your leg elevated. On the other hand, crutching your way around the house to the bathroom, kitchen and living room is exhausting - I really paid for it yesterday when I went out for a short drive with a friend. I was so incredibly spent just from using my walker and then my crutches to navigate my porch, then my walkway, then down five stairs on my butt (which actually was more doable than I envisioned). I was struggling to stay awake beyond about 8 p.m. and really fell into a deep sleep once I did go to bed. My body is learning the meaning of "everything within limitations" and, every so often, I have tested the limits and felt the results.

So, hmmmm, back to work. That will be interesting to try and do from home, but I figure if I can handle a traumatic fall that led to spraining my left arm and rupturing my right achilles tendon, undergo surgery for the rupture and then have the patience and determination to keep my right leg elevated (AT ALL TIMES) for two weeks....going back to work should be a piece of cake! Hopefully, it's german chocolate :-)

Discovering Reiki (it's not only for gathering leaves)!

One of the nicest "touches" (no pun intended) that we provide as part of our Hospice program are complimentary therapies, the most common of which is Reiki, something my sister, Karen, specializes in. She also refers to it as "energy work" and "healing touch" but don't confuse this with your standard massage at the health club. It is very much a two-way process: if you are not open to it, your success with it will be quite limited. On the other hand, if you are recovering from achilles tendon surgery and a very tender, sprained left arm, you find that you will try anything to feel like you are doing SOMETHING during a time when you have been told to basically do nothing but sit.

I have always had somewhat of a push me/pull you relationship with stuff like this. While I am very much a believer in psychotherapy and the social work I do, I draw the line with things that seem too far out in left field to me. That said, I am very comfortable talking with patients and families about such things as "nearing death awareness" and the most famous Hospice oxymoron of all time: "actively dying". I guess I am a walking contradiction at times: I consider myself quite the liberal, however I have my conservative slants as well, preferring that something "make sense" when, very often, there is no logical explanation for why it does.

All this said, I have pledged to myself to have this time away from work and my usual routine be one where I open myself to things that are not always comfortable for me, e.g., accepting help, being passive and attended to and, most difficult of all, remaining in one place for hours on end when I am itching to go out and enjoy a beautiful autumn day. When Karen visited this past week, she very lovingly took care of me, put up with my insane pickiness (you cannot just "warm something up" for me - it has to be so hot, the flesh inside your mouth melts!) and, best of all, she truly eased my pain. For this to happen, though, I had to let her which took some doing! Every evening, with Sarah Brightman's "Eden" CD playing in the background, and the lights dimmed in my living room, Karen did Reiki on my aching neck, shoulders, back, arms and, well, my whole being. I have not had much pain (other than my left arm and elbow and a dull ache in my neck and shoulders from using crutches), but I have been incredibly fatigued much of the time. Each night, when she was finished, I felt like I could just curl up and go to sleep....even in a subway station...and nothing would bother me!

She used certain crystals, a subtle touch, gentle pressure and a calm voice that basically was all I really needed. Pain killers and heating pads were not going to help me the way these treatments did each and every night she was here and I eagerly looked forward to them. The really interesting (but not surprising) result was that I had a reduced need for food (especially snacks that are usually my downfall) most of the week (that is, until today which is when she left!) because I was being nourished and fed in a much more effective way than a handful of Milk Duds could ever accomplish. So, if you are hurting, whether it be from recent surgery or not - consider treating yourself to some energy work, Reiki, healing touch or whatever some kindhearted person can offer you. When your body is working overtime to heal like mine is right now, it's not the Percocet that eases your pain, it's the love.

Workers Comp and the Achilles Tendon Rupture Patient

For those of you who incurred your achilles tendon rupture as a result of an accident, fall, or other mishap while at work, you might find this post interesting. I have never before had to utilize Worker's Compensation (thankfully) and, when this happened to me on 8/26/09 (seems you never forget the date of when such an injury happened!), I immediately panicked about "what the f**k is going to happen now? How long will this take to heal, how long will I be covered, for WHAT will I be covered, how much of a pay cut will I have to take?" etc., etc. It's not a pleasant worry to have (which of course is an oxymoron) but, if you can be patient with the process and trust in your Worker's Comp worker you should be OK. This person is not your employer, by the way, it is the "rep" they send their Worker's Comp cases to which is, in some ways, a benefit because it goes outside the workplace.

After getting some initial BAD information about how the Worker's Comp process works, I got the GOOD information I was needing to help me relax a little bit. Worker's Comp computes your last 52 weeks of NET wages (after taxes, but NOT including any personal deductions you take for medical insurance, your retirement account, etc) and comes up with an average. I'm blanking on the exact percentage you get of this average, but quick math tells me it is somewhere around 80%. At first glance, believe it or not, this does not appear on paper to be a huge difference between what you were bringing home for net pay and what worker's comp will pay you. The reason? Because all your "personal deductions" (see below) are not counted in this. The good news is your weekly check is not a lot less, the bad news is "how do I now pay for these personal deductions that used to be taken care of by payroll deductions?"

Here's an all important detail that no one in my circle could believe was true (but it is): For me, these personal deducations amounted to about $450 per bi-weekly paycheck (OUCH) and this would have been my personal responsibility to pay to my employer every pay period. I don't know about you, but I really don't have an extra $900 a month to shell out for these things. Before I could have a freak attack about it, however, my employer let me know that I could elect to use my sick time to pay for this extra amount. We figured out my rate of pay, how much I needed to come up with each paycheck (about $450) and it amounted to my needing to use about 20 hours of sick time each week. Luckily, I had six weeks of sick time available to me so, right off the bat, I knew I was covered for that amount of time. Should I be out of work longer than this, I would then need to go into my vacation and personal time banks to keep current.

In the employer's favor (which is NOT bad for either side here) is that they do want you back sooner than later and, believe me, after weeks of idle time, you are chomping at the bit to have SOMETHING better to do than hit the remote. So, if I come back on "modified duty" (which, for me, means using my own personal computer and telephone at home to do some office work for four hours a day), my employer certainly benefits and, for me, that is one less sick day (or vacation/personal day) I have to use to remain out of work on less than a full-time basis.

Worker's Comp sent me a letter at the beginning of all this (once my surgery was approved) stating it would be 23 (calendar) days before I could go on modified duty (which, for me, means October 9th) and 103 days before I can go back to full duty (most of this is due to not being able to drive for three months). My assumption is that they have plentiful case studies that show these "out of work" figures to be the average for anyone recuperating from an achilles tendon rupture, so you could probably expect to get the same kind of time off. People have already offered to drive me to work but I think it makes more sense to work from home until I get full clearance. Picking me up/dropping me off when I am on crutches could represent added liability to anyone who does this favor for me as well as for my employer if I just so happen to fall in their parking lot or building. Let's also not forget the stairs I need to navigate on crutches just to get from my front door to the car! However, back to "full duty" for me is somewhere in the vicinity of December 10th.

My purpose in putting all this information out there is that it truly is a jungle to navigate for the novice (which I was until about two-three weeks ago) and I hope someone can benefit from knowing how things went for me. So far, my checks have arrived consistently each Thursday and I know my health insurance, life insurance and retirement contributions are being taken out against my sick time at work by my employer. The less you can have things like this on your mind, the better you are going to be for the long journey of healing. Take it from someone who (already) knows! :-)

First Follow Up with My Doctor

I have been waiting for this day for two weeks, coping with boredom, inactivity, TOTAL dependence on others to do the most basic things for me, missing going out to the movies and restaurants and just being anywhere but the first floor of my house! Today at 10:00 a.m. was my first follow up with my surgeon, Dr. Arcand, since my surgery just over two weeks ago and it couldn't get here quick enough.

My exhaustive "dress rehearsal" earlier this week trying to nagivate my steps proved to be rather easily remedied: just have a strong guy right there to let you put all your weight on him as you step down and also as you use your crutches to cross over his lawn to my waiting car! Jim was strong enough to support me and my sister and partner followed closeby just to remind me "you're almost there!" and ta da, I got to my car in one piece.

My early impressions of Dr. Nicole Arcand still hold very true: I just plain like her, her "bedside manner", her hearty laugh, and, most of all, her honesty and ease in explaining what is going on with me in a way I can truly understand. She told me my incision looked "great" today, lauding me for "obviously keeping your foot elevated and staying off of it these past two weeks, and that couldn't have been too easy for you!" I smiled very proudly because, indeed, I have been the "good, compliant patient" and very motivated to hear just what I heard today - you done good.

She reviewed her findings during the surgery wherein I had a shortened tendon that represented two challenges: not only reattaching the ruptured tendon so the two ends could securely heal again but ALSO ensuring that the tendon would reattach to the bone. This is the part that is very much "wait and see" right now. When I asked how she would evalaute the progress of this, she said "clinically" meaning she would be checking over the coming weeks my range of motion, ability to bear weight, etc. She told me that she used four "anchors" when reattaching the tendon to the bone (I think the usual number is more like two) to do her best to ensure proper healing. When I told her I've really had no pain in my leg or foot, she reminded me that this could be due, in part, to my neuropathy (secondary to having Type II diabetes) but also due to my being compliant in keeping my foot elevated and non weight bearing.

So, after removing my sutures (which hardly hurt at all, contrary to what others have reported), they changed my splint and put on a second one (which basically is just layers of ace bandages, and put my toes in a slightly downward position. I will go back for another appointment in two weeks at which point the splint position will be returned to a neutral positioning. She thinks that, in four weeks, I may be able to transition to the cam boot (which I had briefly before the surgery) and start bearing weight. The other BIG news is that I no longer need to keep my foot elevated. When you've been constantly doing so for two weeks and feel just how inconvenient and uncomfortable that can become, believe me, you hear this type of report and silently say a big "yahoo"!

Dr. Arcand also detailed what the Plan B would consist of, should my tendon not properly heal when attaching itself back to the bone. She would suggest grafting some tendon tissue from my toe to use on my shortened, less healthy achilles tendon and see if that would do the trick. It's interesting - I didn't flinch at all upon hearing this or tense up or say "Oh my God no, not another surgery!" I actually have come through all of this so far rather well rested, comfortable with who is treating me and also with who has been taking care of me, and all I want is to have a valuable quality of life back again: the ability to walk, enjoy the nice weather, and just feel plain unrestricted! Freedoms like these that have been denied for even a short time make them all the more precious to a person, so perhaps that is one reason I have encountered this time in my life. It truly has made me value those "little things" that don't seem very little at all right now.

And just for the record, I want to thank the following from the bottom of my heart (and not necessarily in this order, it's just what my memory pops into my mind at this time)!: My partner Lucy, my sister Karen, my Mom for all her great telephone and e-mail support, my nephew Ryan for calling me yesterday and just making my day by doing something so uncharacteristic for him (STAYING IN TOUCH!), my friends from work, especially Sabrina and Tina, my wonderful support network of close friends like Elizabeth P., Dottye B., Renee, Judy S., Norma C. and some acquaintances I didn't expect to really hear from who were such pleasant surprises. If I left you out, please don't take it personally. Just know that anything and everything people have done for me has made this bearable and even somehow important for me to go through. This has NOT killed me and it HAS made me stronger. Thanks.

Coping with Stairs and other nuisances

I was very fortunate to have an ambulance approved by worker's comp to bring me home after my surgery (and even the EMTs agreed it was a very good idea once they saw the entrance to my home). I live in a house that is totally NOT handicap accessible and knew my stairs leading from the street up to my front porch would be a nightmare. Thanks to the EMTs, that nightmare was averted...until today, that is.

My sister is here visiting as was a good friend of mine and my partner was home from work, so we all decided it would be a good time to "practice" doing these treacherous stairs, beginning with a steeper than average step down from my front door to my porch. I had my walker handy as well as my crutches and, with THREE people ready to step in to help, I figure this would be doable.

So, with the front door now open and a broken storm door awaiting my exit (hinge needs to be replaced), I became immediately aware of the presence of several of my eight curious cats. Oops, didn't factor this into the mix! So, while my sister, Karen, took the role of shooing them away from time to time, my partner, Lucy, waited for me to step down on to the porch. Where was I in all of this? Oh yeah, I was like a deer in headlights (make that HALOGEN headlights) trying to comprehend just HOW to do this. Total brain fart, no clue whatsoever how to make something seemingly simple come to fruition. It reminded me so vividly of those (many) press conferences with President Bush when he was asked a question that required depth, command, and intelligence and none of the three was in stock that day.

So, at least five minutes later, after Lucy painfully dragged over a heavy slate step to place on the porch to make this first step not be such a doozy for me, I knew of no other way to do it than to put most of my weight on her (on my right side which is where the bad ankle is) and slide slowly down to my good foot. Quickly, I positioned my other crutch under my right armpit and wobbled a bit before managing to get down to the porch. I'm probably not being very clear in describing this, but, for the life of me, I just could not compute how to accomplish this task today, and, even with several others looking on, it just wasn't happening with ease!

The other sidebar here is that, after posting my full weight on crutches during this long delay while we tried to figure all this out for a good 5 to 7 minutes, I was getting incredibly fatigued. Still to be decided was how amother task would get done" "how do I get down the few porch steps I have and manage to get from there to where my car will be?" My neighbor luckily has a paved sidewalk and driveway and we all agreed it made better sense to cut across his front lawn and get in my car there for my upcoming MD appointment (on Thursday). Still, with a partner and sister who are beyond my own age and not in terrific physical shape, we realized that we needed to find a suitable "steady Eddie" who can help us pull this off later this week. (Luckily, it appears we found the right candidate - my neighbor - he has all the attributes: rock solid, strong, and fearless....which NONE of us were today!

To summarize, this was just downright exhausting to go through, both physically and mentally, as the sheer din of all my helpful "crew" chiming in with all their ideas which turned into forebodings ("you could fall", "I'm not strong enough to catch you if you DO" and finally "I need to walk away from this because you're not listening to me!") was just too much for my weary mind to take. Bottom line: that which does not kill you makes you stronger....and at this point, I'm probably the strongest blob of a physical wreck in my entire neighborhood! Stay tuned for more!

Setting the Bar Low = Pleasant Surprises

How many times in your life have you made the comment to someone going through a difficult time, "Just let me know what I can do..." and then, of course, you forget all about the poor unfortunate slob and your conscience can remain clear/clean!

As a bereavement counselor, I am real big on advising clients to not expect others to read their minds and know magically what they need: you actually need to open your mouth, swallow your pride and TELL them. Really, no kidding, that's how it is in the real world. This is especially true during a time like the one I am going through where humility has to take a back seat...along with vanity (as I wrote about earlier).

Here's the thing: I cannot go out and get my newspaper, nor can I get my mail (trust me, if you saw my front porch and ensuing steps down to the street level you would know what I mean when it comes to my being on crutches). I can crutch my way down to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee or a sandwich but how do I carry it back to the living room or dining room table? Today I faced a minor obstacle like those just mentioned in that I had just received my first worker's comp check and it needed to be deposited. No direct deposit is available with this perk, so somehow it has to find its way to the bank...which is not exactly right around the corner, plus my partner isn't home from work till nearly 7 p.m. With some bills coming due by Monday, I need the dough in the bank today plus I need some cash to pay people back when they get me lunch or groceries or whatever.

So, I sat and stewed about how I would get this task done today, made all the more challenging by the fact that I am aching all through my arms and even my hands now from using my crutches (it even hurts in my forearms as I type this). As fate would have it, a co-worker of mine who I very much enjoy but had no high expectations of during my leave of absence calls me up and starts off with, "What can I do for you today?" She has already been over once to help me clean my house and organize a few things and she did this on her day off which she was now offering to do yet again today. I realized very quickly, "Wow, she is actually for real!" Still ,I hesitated to tell her I needed this banking done. I needn't have worried because she convincingly said again, "Tell me what you need done and I will be up in no time to do it for you." Really? Yes, really.

Not only that, but she said the magic words, "You want lunch from Wendy's?" and we were all set. She showed up within the hour with a chicken sandwich, huge diet coke and chili and after we talked a bit, she was off to do my banking for me. I stupidly gave her bad directions to the God forsaken bank (which is not conveniently located, to say the least) but still she came back with a smile and cash for my empty wallet. You may ask, "So, what's the big deal??" Here's the big deal: I truly didn't expect this co-worker (now officially a "friend") to be there for me in this way. She had told me before my surgery to count on her if I needed help and I sort of yeah-yeahed it, but now it had come to fruition, not just once but twice. It made my aches and pains and severe boredom a little less so. So, set the bar low and you never know what might happen: the people you least count on make their presence known at these times and help make an ordeal such as this more bearable.

Post Surgery and the lack of ANY vanity

Isn't this adorable looking? It follows me everywhere I go and is especially delightful to deal with when trying to sleep under covers, turn from one side to the other and, like last night, do battle with one of my angry cats who didn't care much for this lumpy cast taking up her spot on the bed! Her growling and swatting is what woke me up at least twice. Not fun.

It's not like I have a whole lot to do right now simply because I can't do it. I'm still very unbalanced on my crutches so I hop around most of the time using a walker. My so called "good foot" will eventually need its own therapy if I keep that up! Luckily, I'm finding that several office chairs with wheels on them (and one has a handy armrest, too) are excellent means of transportation around the house. I'm just grateful I really don't HAVE to leave my home for another week when I have my follow-up meeting with my surgeon.

I looked at myself today and made one of those "ewwww" noises (I think even the mirror did so, too) - there I was with my hair sticking up like a cactus, dark circles under my eyes from doing "cat versus splint" battle during the night, and just overall kind of pathetic looking. Grooming is somewhat of a luxury at this point although I have taken one sponge bath (with some wonderful smelling soap provided by my partner) and washed my hair twice in the kitchen sink with a friend providing supervision over the rolling office chair (it kind of had a mind of its own!) and handing me a towel and gel, etc. The other real freaky thing is I seem to be having hot flashes galore, almost more than I have ever before and I haven't made the connection as to why. All I know is I'm sweaty all the time and it isn't helped by the fact that getting from the couch to the bathroom on my walker and then skating a bit on the office chair really does take a lot out of me. Then, of course, there's the pure awkwardness of ... um.... disrobing when you need to take care of the bathroom business. Having just one good arm at this point (the left one is hurting and achy most of the time) and of course just one usable foot makes things challenging to say the least.

As I sat with my ever elevated foot/ankle, diet soda, mixed nuts and vanilla pudding not far away, watching (groan) daytime TV (which quickly became my new favorite DVD, "Damages" starring Glenn Close), I couldn't help but envision myself as the poster child for "Welfare Slug"...you know, the kind that soak up hours of TV, look like crap, stuff their face and someone else pays them to do this? In my case, it's worker's comp but, of course, this isn't by choice, it's by circumstance. All the same, I definitely was aware of the parallels for a little while. With my luck, some worker's comp investigator will be peeking in my window with his camera ready JUST as I am taking one of my wheely office chair rides and assume I'm just fine! Oh well.....!

How it Happened and other stuff

I didn't realize (until this happened to me) how big a circle those of us are who have ruptured their achilles tendon, had surgery and then have to cope with the excruciating long recovery period (which I will call the ELRP from here on in). Then I quickly realized WHY so many of us are online blogging about it, asking questions of each other, comparing notes and the like: it majorly SUCKS. Not just that, but it is quite a titillating topic. When I tell people it will be THREE MONTHS until I can drive again, their mouths could collect flies from hanging open in shock. I also let them know I cannot bear weight on the right foot for at least 4-6 weeks, maybe longer. This, too, makes them oooh and ahhh in sympathy.

However, what gets the most curious reaction is when I tell people HOW this happened. Contrary to the tales about "playing hoops with the guys" or "slalom skiing at 100 miles per hour", all I can come up with is a "mousey incident" that happened on 8/26/09 in my office as I scurried about to get a mouse (hence "mousey incident") for my laptop as our morning rounds were about to begin. Before I go any futher, I know what you are wondering: 1) Yes, we ARE talking worker's comp and 2) no, there was no huge divot in the carpeting, snowstorm that blinded me or oil spill in the parking lot. Nope, just me lumbering around a corner trying to find a computer device for a stupid meeting and going whoops as I tripped over my own feet on indoor/outdoor carpeting that was about as plush as a memo pad. In other words, I fell on concrete flooring for all intents and purposes and, as my right foot got bent backward, my 200+ pound frame hurtled forward and I landed on my left elbow/forearm. Ouch does not even being to describe what came out of my mouth at that moment but you can be assured it was appropriate to what had just happened. No, I didn't hear that infamous "pop" as my achilles tendon wrested away from my ankle, but within minutes, once I staggered back up to my feet, it felt like my right foot had just been pumped up with about two full inches of padding from the swelling that took place!

For those of you not already in the know, time is of the essence when diagnosing and treating an ATR (achilles tendon rupture if you need a clue). After I ruptured mine on 8/26/09, I went immediately to have it looked it, was told that the swelling was normal and just to take ONE DAY off before returning to work. I had the worst spasms of my life that night and stayed home an additional day because the pain just totally freaked me out. Found out later that was my tendon crying out for its counterpart (and this happened for nearly a week before it subsided). I was seen again by the same clinic on 8/28, told that it looked like "things are moving along as they should" even though I was walking like someone twice my age. I truly had no pain, just weakness in the foot and no ability to push. On 9/1/09, my physical therapist (who was giving me weekly massages for a bone spur on the same foot) commented, "Hmmm, there's a crevice here on the ankle where your achilles tendon should be."
Words like "crevice on your ankle" should ALWAYS make you stop what you're doing and pay close attention!

It was 9/4 before I could get back in the clinic and finally I got a very serious but thorough physician's assistant who did something called the Thompson Test (where your calves are gently squeezed and, since these are connected to your ankle by your achilles tendon, if your ankle does not stir, that's a definitive sign of a rupture or tear in the achilles tendon. He calmly told me, "Yup, you've blown it right out!" There was a thud in my stomach that was just sickening as I heard him calling around looking for orthopedic surgeons who just might possibly be able to see me around 4:30 p.m. on the Friday afternoon before Labor Day weekend. NO way. I did, however, get an appointment for Tuesday, 9/8 and was told to stay off my feet as much as possible.

Another side bar: the fall I took also greatly injured my left arm (I fell on it, full weight. I recently was informed I have "tennis elbow" and that, over time, it will work itself out. However,right now, that painful left arm of mine is telling me to call it a night. Hope we can all exchange stories here and maybe even brighten up each other's days because I am going to be a homebody for at least a month or two and could use a few new friends!