This has been a week of progress. Thank goodness. My stitches from the second surgery were removed on Tuesday. Joey, the tech who removed the stitches, said my boo boo will be less “angry” with them out. That was good news. I’m about done with angry boo boos.
Beautiful sunset helps me forget angry boo boos.
Before we left the Doc’s office, we set up my third and final (it better be) surgery. What’s left to do is remove the l-o-n-g screw that is holding my ligament in place. Doc says my range of motion will be better with the screw removed. I’m a big fan of range of motion in general, but especially in my ankle, so I agreed.
The surgery is set for two days before Other Half’s benchmark birthday. Not exactly the best timing. It’s likely he’ll be celebrating his big day waiting on his whiney wife. (I’ll make it up to you Honey, I promise.)
It will be another two weeks after surgery before the stitches are out of yet another angry boo boo. Once that’s done, we hope to pack up and head to Dessert Hot Springs. We are crossing our fingers that this latest version of our “plans” actually works out. We’ll see.
The day after the stitches came out, I had my first physical therapy appointment. It was basically an evaluation, but it’s a start. My PT guy is named John. We showed him my x-rays, pre and post surgery. I wanted to be sure he understood how much hardware I’m toting these days. I’m sure he’s seen worse. He measured both of my feet and checked on my range of motion. Not so hot. “We have a lot of work to do,” was his comment.
He then told me I need to lotion my feet. No kidding. As he said that I got my first real glimpse of how disgusting the bottom of my injured foot looked. YIKES. In my defense, I’ve been dealing with angry boo boos since my clod gene reeked havoc on our lives on December 20. I’ve not been able to soak my feet or scrub them or do anything remotely close to what it takes to keep feet presentable, especially feet that (used to) live in flip flops.
I was embarrassed and apologized for the epic grossness of my foot. He laughed and said he handles feet all day, no problem. I wouldn’t want his job.
The next thing he tells me is it’s time for me to get “reacquainted” with my foot. Huh? Reacquainted with my foot? I think we’re pretty well acquainted. We’re on our sixth decade together. He goes on to explain that it is still “my foot” and even though it will likely “never be the same” it’s important that I accept it as it is.
John is an insightful guy. I didn’t expect to be on the verge of tears at my first physical therapy appointment.
So that’s how I’ve been spending my week, getting reacquainted with my foot, or as Other Half puts it – making friends with my foot. I’m doing my exercises and have successfully returned both feet to a presentable condition.
Photo Credit: www.rgbstock.com
One more thing happened this week. It’s dental. One of my crowns popped off in my mouth. Yep, just popped right off. So here we are with something else to figure out while we winter in San Diego. Other Half says it’s a good thing I’m not a cow – Hoof and Mouth can be serious.