June 2024 was the weirdest summer. I had time... time to think, time to dream, time to hope, time to heal. Mostly sitting on my couch with my feet up and watching the clock ticking until I can go to bed again. Repeat.
I had major ankle surgery on June 25th. It had been a long time coming, stupid me does not like to go to the doctor so by the time I finally caved, the damage was too far gone. So. In layman's terms, they cleaned up my posterior tibialis tendon-the one that runs from the back of the calf, over the inside ankle bone, and holds up the arch of the foot. That was saved. Then they took the tendon that runs to my little toe, cut it and attached it to another bone, to tighten up the tendon complex that holds the ankle together. Then they took a saw and cut my heel bone in half and moved it over about a centimeter and screwed it back together with two long titanium screws. The new heel bone position will help stabilize the new tendon placement and help give me a healthier gate and higher arch and hopefully pain-free walking. I'm still working on the walking part.
Three weeks in a splinted dressing, as shown above. It was supposed to be two but I needed an extra week for the stitches/wounds to heal because I couldn't do adhesive steri-strips in a fiberglass cast. After three weeks, the stitches came out, xrays were taken, and a pink fiberglass cast was put on. That scar is about six inches long, and on the other side, where they accessed my heel is another scar about three inches long. Plus two puncture wounds on the back of my heel where they inserted the screws.
Amazing, isn't it? I know it's gross, but it fascinates me. It was nice to get that splinted dressing off and into a cast because I felt the cast was safer when I bumped my foot into the walls as I scooted around on my knee scooter. But... the cast drove me a little crazy too. There is a reason they automatically warn you about sticking objects in the cast to scratch itches! It felt like my skin was gonna melt and fall off and I barely saw the outside of my house for six weeks. The fiberglass was also heavy and really rough, I eventually cut up a few pairs of leggings to cover the cast so I didn't exfoliate the skin off my other leg when sleeping. Speaking of sleeping. What's that?
I was seriously counting down the weeks, days, hours until I could get that thing off. And yeah, it was ugly. I'll spare you THOSE details, but alligator skin is a thing. Shedding skin cells is a thing. It felt SO good to rub a washcloth along my leg and foot. Rub lotion into the skin. Honestly, it only took about 3-4 days to get the skin back to almost normal. The scar actually looks really good and is healing well.
So then we revisited my old friend The Boot again. (I wore this same style the last five weeks of the school year at the end of spring. To see if we could avoid surgery. Ha.) Except this time I couldn't actually walk in the boot. Physical Therapy started the day after I got the cast off and the therapist said I should not be using my scooter anymore. (I had words and thoughts for him which I won't repeat here.) I did learn to use crutches. I have to wear the boot all the time except sleeping, when icing my ankle, and driving to PT. Yes, I can drive because the driving motion doesn't hurt, it's putting weight on it straight down which I can't do yet. It's been 16 days since being booted... the first week I couldn't bear any weight on the foot without major pain. But the second week started to get a little better every day. The last 5 days or so I can actually hobble around my kitchen a bit without a crutch. Baby Steps. On September 3rd, in PT, we will take the boot off and I will learn to walk all over again.
Yeah, I'm scared and nervous. There were times when I thought I may never walk again. The funny thing is, after surgery, after the nerve block wore off, and for the next six weeks, I never felt any pain. It just didn't hurt. Everybody warned me to head off the pain by preemptively taking the pain pills, and I took one, but it never started hurting so I never took any more. Once I got the cast off though, and the PT got a hold of me and started torturing me, the real pain began. I am not a big fan of Physical Therapy. I know it must be done, and let's just say that certain therapists were much better than others. The only male therapist I had made me seriously cry when he scraped and dug at the fascia with a metal blade and I couldn't walk for three days. I'll update in a year or two :-)
