A lot has happened since we last did Freeky Friday. I've been very blessed over the last year. My husband and I both started new (better!) jobs, and now I truly feel that I'm treating patients I'm interested in and doing what I love. We bought our first house, and it's been a challenging but incredible adventure. We were fortunate enough to celebrate our first wedding anniversary together. All of these wonderful and positive experiences have made us thirsty for what's ahead on the horizon. We've started planning a trip to Europe, we discussed both near and distant future house projects, and, frankly, we discussed the future of our family.
Then, my ankle got all jacked up.
I was really mopey about it for a long time. I'm still mopey at times; for example, I can't watch "So You Think You Can Dance" without feeling sorry for myself. I first went to the orthopedic surgeon on March 26th. I had my MRI done on April 9th, and then I saw a different orthopedist (you know, the one who put me in The Splint) for a second opinion on April 30th.
I saw this orthopedic surgeon again on May 25th to have him determine whether or not the splint was working. He had warned me that only 30% of the patient population with chronic ankle sprains see improvement with conservative management like splinting and rehab...and I had looked up and read the article to make sure he was right. I was not optimistic. I stepped into that clinic that day expecting to leave with a scheduled surgery. Surgery meant being non-weightbearing for six weeks (which for a physical therapist means at least two months off of work), but it also meant a potential solution. I told myself that I had accepted this option. In reality, I was praying for that option. A surgery just seemed so final, so absolute. My ankle still hurt, so how in the world could The Splint be declared a success? Surgery sounded crappy, but it was an answer. Regardless of whether The Splint was a success or not, I was hoping there would be some kind of a final decision that day. I just kept begging to God, the universe, whoever, to not make me wear that damned thing anymore. I told myself that if he asked me to keep wearing it, I would refuse. It either worked or it didn't and I was determined to get rid of it that day.
When he took a look at my ankle, he seemed completely shocked. I asked him what was going on and he said that the definitive test was negative. "First of all," he said. "I'm surprised that you were compliant with the splint. Most clinicians make horrible patients. Secondly, I'm surprised you're actually in that 30%." Immediately, my hopes of surgery were transformed and it was absolutely no longer my wish. Then he said, "You're going to hate this." And I knew what was coming next: I needed to wear The Splint for three more weeks just to make sure.
You'd think this would have made me throw a hissy fit, right? I thought I would have thrown a hissy fit! Instead, I smiled, sighed, and agreed. Somehow I just knew that this was what was supposed to happen. Maybe it was his demeanor; he just seemed so thrilled, and so optimistic that surgery wouldn't be necessary. For a surgeon to be that happy about not doing surgery, I knew we were onto something.
So here I am, almost three more weeks into the second cycle of The Splint. Don't get me wrong, it still sucks. But maybe I'm just used to it or it's more broken in or something, but it's not holding me back as much anymore. Some days I'm still not walking well with it. Other days it's absolutely aching by the end of the day. Then other days, I go to the gym and do the sitting down machines instead of free weights, and even though this isn't my preference, I'm just happy to be active again.
I told the doctor about this, too. I knew that I needed to wear The Splint 24/7, but I was headed to the beach that weekend and refused to let it hold me back. He laughed, and said that as long as I had it on, I'd be sticking with the plan that was apparently working so well. Walking through sand in that stupid thing was difficult, but stepping into the Gulf of Mexico with it was worth it.
Don't worry, I asked the nurse for a second one, so now I have a "land" splint and a "water" splint...because I'm going kayaking tomorrow!
With all of the good that's come out of the last year, this horrible ankle injury was one of the best and one of the worst all at the same time. It's taught me to be humble, and not to take the wonderful parts of life for granted. It's taught me to ask for help when I need it, and it's taught me to forgive myself. Most of all, it's taught me to slow down. I'm always several steps ahead of myself and it's so easy for me to get caught up in future plans; this injury has taught me to embrace the present and take things one day at a time.
I'm a little nervous about my next appointment on Monday, but I'm just trying to remember that it's happening the way it's supposed to, even if it's not according to my plans.
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Come on back next Friday, June 15th (ahem, my husband's birthday), and answer this prompt:
What's the best thing about summer in your neck of the woods? Any fun local activities or traditions?
3 comments:
No surgery! I'm thrilled for you!
Lovely post! Thanks for reviving Freeky Friday!
http://okietwang.blogspot.com/2012/06/freeky-friday.html
That's great news!
I'm looking forward to participating in Freeky Fridays this summer.
http://argylelove.blogspot.com/2012/06/freeky-friday-best-thing.html
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