Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Good News Day

 I saw the orthopedic surgeon today for him to check progress of my ankle/leg. Let me preface this by saying he’s a really nice guy but going to see him always makes me nervous. No weight-bearing on my right foot is a difficult thing to accomplish. I have not put one foot in front of the other on solid ground for five weeks. Still, when I transfer from wheeled chair to bed or toilet or whatever, there are moments when I inadvertently step on that foot—not close enough, about to fall, etc. And of course there was a colossal fall in Tomball. Each time I think I’ve ruined whatever healing was taking place.

The first time I saw Dr. Cook we came home and I went up the front steps to the porch—didn’t have a ramp or a wheelchair at that point. I tried to step lightly on my bad foot, kind of a skip, but my brother would admonish, “You’re weight bearing, you’re weight bearing.” He said even one instance could make things worse.

So I went with fear and trepidation to the next appointment, sure that Dr. Cook would say I’d ruined it and he’d have to go in surgically and put rods, etc. in. Of course instead he said “It’s not any worse,” and told me to continue what I was doing. Today I was a bit more confident, but I could bat down an occasional thought of “Pride goeth before a fall.”

It turned out pride and those occasional mis-steps didn’t matter. I am growing new bone—I saw it on x-ray. Dr. Cook was encouraged and said it’s time to challenge the leg. I wanted to shout, “If it’s doing okay, can’t we just leave it alone?” But I am to start walking, with a physical therapist, three times a week. And I go back in two weeks.

Then there was the matter of the boot. We saw people in boots that were different from mine and asked about them. The doctor explained that they carried the Cadillac in the office, but my boot “would do.” Jordan wasn’t having any of that. He explained that Medicare had already bought me a boot and would not buy another. Jordan inquired about the price if we bought it outright--$200—and here I sit tonight in a new boot. It is lighter and easier on my foot, so I guess it was money well spent.

Megan went home last Saturday and Sunday she tripped and hurt her foot. Diagnosis today: hairline fracture of a bone in the foot. She is in a boot for six weeks, on crutches and no weight-bearing for two weeks. I told her she really didn’t have to go to extremes to show her sympathy. I’m truly sorry this happened and worried about her—how will she raise her two boys, cook for her family, and go to work? I’m sure it will work out.

I wrote to old friends yesterday telling them what happened, and they promptly replied today with intentions to call at a convenient time and to come inspect me and my new quarters. I assured them I’m all right and in good hands, but I’d love to see them. So sad it takes a broken leg to get them to visit.

Life is good, and I am blessed.


 
I saw the orthopedic surgeon today for him to check progress of my ankle/leg. Let me preface this by saying he’s a really nice guy but going to see him always makes me nervous. No weight-bearing on my right foot is a difficult thing to accomplish. I have not put one foot in front of the other on solid ground for five weeks. Still, when I transfer from wheeled chair to bed or toilet or whatever, there are moments when I inadvertently step on that foot—not close enough, about to fall, etc. And of course there was a colossal fall in Tomball. Each time I think I’ve ruined whatever healing was taking place.
The first time I saw Dr. Cook we came home and I went up the front steps to the porch—didn’t have a ramp or a wheelchair at that point. I tried to step lightly on my bad foot, kind of a skip, but my brother would admonish, “You’re weight bearing, you’re weight bearing.” He said even one instance could make things worse.
So I went with fear and trepidation to the next appointment, sure that Dr. Cook would say I’d ruined it and he’d have to go in surgically and put rods, etc. in. Of course instead he said “It’s not any worse,” and told me to continue what I was doing. Today I was a bit more confident, but I could bat down an occasional thought of “Pride goeth before a fall.”
It turned out pride and those occasional mis-steps didn’t matter. I am growing new bone—I saw it on x-ray. Dr. Cook was encouraged and said it’s time to challenge the leg. I wanted to shout, “If it’s doing okay, can’t we just leave it alone?” But I am to start walking, with a physical therapist, three times a week. And I go back in two weeks.
Then there was the matter of the boot. We saw people in boots that were different from mine and asked about them. The doctor explained that they carried the Cadillac in the office, but my boot “would do.” Jordan wasn’t having any of that. He explained that Medicare had already bought me a boot and would not buy another. Jordan inquired about the price if we bought it outright--$200—and here I sit tonight in a new boot. It is lighter and easier on my foot, so I guess it was money well spent.
Megan went home last Saturday and Sunday she tripped and hurt her foot. Diagnosis today: hairline fracture of a bone in the foot. She is in a boot for six weeks, on crutches and no weight-bearing for two weeks. I told her she really didn’t have to go to extremes to show her sympathy. I’m truly sorry this happened and worried about her—how will she raise her two boys, cook for her family, and go to work? I’m sure it will work out.
I wrote to old friends yesterday telling them what happened, and they promptly replied today with intentions to call at a convenient time and to come inspect me and my new quarters. I assured them I’m all right and in good hands, but I’d love to see them. So sad it takes a broken leg to get them to visit.
Life is good, and I am blessed.
 
 
 



 

1 comment:

Victor Wadsworth said...

The fear of not getting better but maybe getting worse, at the point your waiting for either good or bad news sure wears on a body. I just have a sonogram on my kidney, over a month waiting to hear what the doctor would say about it. Waiting & not knowing fuels the fears...