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. :-)
Friday, November 27, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
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!
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!
Monday, November 16, 2009
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!
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!
Sunday, November 8, 2009
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!
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!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
