Sometimes you break yourself, part 4

I got not-so-good news at the one week orthopedist follow up. 

Of course, I thought I was doing things right based on what the doctor told me, but I guess sometimes I’m a “more is better” kind of person. In my mind, I heard “walk on it in the boot as tolerated.” So, if you can tolerate walking across a college campus, go ahead and do it. That’s where my mind goes when I’m given a vague directive. I’m the kind of person that needs explicit instructions. Tell me exactly what I need to know and I’ll follow it to the letter. Give me a wide berth and I’ll go all out. For this broken foot, that’s a problem.

I have to admit that there may have been some wishful thinking at play. While I was somewhat hopeful that by some magic force my bone would be healing just enough to let me out of the damned walking boot so I could drive, I knew it would likely be a little longer. What I didn’t expect to hear was that it would be six weeks longer. I know bones take weeks and months to heal completely, but I was hoping for some more progress in the bone building over the course of the week; especially since he had told me I could walk on it with the boot as I could tolerate it. Bottom line was, I overdid it and now I have to rethink how I approach everything when it comes to moving around.

The limitations

These were the more explicit directives that I received in this follow-up visit:

• When walking, put weight on heel only. (I was walking heel-toe, rolling through the whole foot. Oops.)
• Baby the foot. The X-ray showed more space between the bones. There’s too much pulling on the tendon which can separate the bones more. (I was not doing that. Oops.)
• Only wiggle toes to promote circulation. No ankle movement. (Oops.)
• Limit walking – only walk in the boot. (I walked across a college campus. Several times. Double Oops.)

Basically, I was doing everything wrong. I don’t remember him saying all of those things in the initial visit; if he did, I surely missed it, or he thought I understood his definition of “common sense” (which I do remember him saying once or twice). The thing is, I didn’t know what his definition of “common sense” was; I probably should have asked exactly what that meant to him. He doesn’t know me, didn’t ask any questions about who I am or what I do, prescribed the boot and ran out of the room. He didn’t ask if I had any questions or concerns. I felt like he was trying to get rid of me to get to the next ten patients, and that was very frustrating and stressful. I barely had time to process what he said, much less ask any questions that might have any importance to my daily life.

This was probably the toughest directive from this second visit:

• No driving for six weeks.

No driving for six weeks? That’s a complication that I was praying not to happen. Work is starting in a week and I have to figure out how the hell I’m going to get there and back. For someone as self-sufficient as I am, this is a huge blow.

Practically speaking, I think I can still do my job even with a bum foot. I taught from a chair when I broke my left foot 21 years ago. Once I got off the crutches, I was also pregnant with my first child. That whole year was about making modifications to my teaching style. Of course, circumstances are a little different now: I’m older, most of my students speak only Spanish, and I have relied heavily on my ability to physically demonstrate to help with communicating what I need them to know. And, I can’t drive.

The emotional fallout

When I got home from the doctor, I was sad. Very, very sad. Curl up under a blanket, get the tissue box out kind of sad. I spent the rest of that day very depressed. Afraid to walk at all, I tried using the scooter to get to the bathroom while holding the cane so I could keep more weight off of it and walk with the cane into the bathroom. My husband saw the tragi-comedy of that moment and put the kibosh on it. “I think it’s okay to walk in the house to go to the bathroom.”

I think what bothers me the most is not knowing what I can do that won’t make it worse. If I’m supposed to avoid pain, then I’d never get up and walk. After sitting with my foot up for even a short while, getting back up and putting weight in the heel hurts for the first minute or so as the blood flows down to the foot, then the pain subsides. Sitting on the couch all day feels wrong, but it gives my foot the rest it needs. If I accidentally move my ankle, I’m afraid I’m pulling on the tendon that is attached to the broken bone, further separating the two pieces and inhibiting the healing process. It’s a looping series of “you’re doing this to yourself” that always feels wrong.

The past few days have been about sitting with the discomfort. I can deal with the occasional physical discomfort. I can also manage the changes I have to make while using the boot/cane/scooter. It’s the emotional stuff that is much harder to process. There’s a lot of “you did this to yourself, now it’s on you to figure things out” swirling around in my brain. I have to lean more on my husband, who is a great partner and is willing and able to do so much, but I hate having to put so much more on his plate. And now, I gave him one more thing to worry about, which I also hate. We already have so many things to worry about; I never want to fill that bucket any further.

I don’t even want to think about how long it will be until I can flip again. For now, non-weight bearing strength exercises on the floor or in a chair will have to suffice. At least I can do something.

This is all very sucky, but I am doing what’s necessary. I’m taking things one moment at a time and planning what I can. I’m trying to accept the situation I’m in and be at peace with it. It’s not easy, but the alternative would be to rail and scream and be angry at myself for breaking a part of my body that I rely on for pretty much everything I do. That will just stress me out more and it won’t make the bone heal any faster.

What helps

The kindness of people. The offering of a helping hand if I need it. The acknowledgement that this is sucky. The gentle reminder that it is okay (and necessary) to slow down and sit. The knowledge that this will heal in time and will soon be a memory.

On Wednesday, my dear friend Maria offered to take me to lunch at my favorite Nyack restaurant, then we drove around a bit and ended the afternoon with ice cream. We work together, so we have been caught up in our enjoyment of summer vacation with our families. It was wonderful to catch up on the stuff we have been missing since we left work in June.