I have for some time secretly dreamed of having minor surgery on both my legs, knees or feet, something that wasn't very painful that immobilize me. (Yeah, I know I am that weird.) I would need to be waited on by someone and could rest by sitting all day to recuperate. Without much effort I could see this as a knitting nirvana, time carved out of my life that I could devote singularly to me, my recovery and knitting. Last night I managed to make at least part of that dream come true.
Wednesday was a busy work day for me chucked full of important meeting after meeting, all requiring that I pay close attention to what was going on or contributing to the goings on. By the end of the day I was exhausted from all the extroversion required throughout the day. I came home, made dinner and crashed for awhile before deciding it was necessary to go upstairs to get something. It was there the trap I had inadvertently set for myself sprung.
As I entered the door I had kicked off the 1.5 inch or 3.8 cm Clark rubber soled mules I had worn all day without thinking about their placement. About 8:30 pm, without bothering to turn on the light in the hall, I found them. The big toe on the right foot got tangled up in the first shoe and as I tried to regain my balance, the other shoe caused me to twist my left foot to the left. I laid on the floor in a fetal position sobbing for a few minutes. Mike, the cat, knew something was wrong and did his best to comfort me. Since Paul was away, I had to rely on myself to figure out next steps.
Looking at the right toe I knew it was broken, cracked or something. I did hope icing the left foot would be enough, but the pain didn't seem to subside with it. So at this point I was quite sure I needed professional help and I crawled back up the steps, limped to the car and drove myself to the local ER, thinking I broke my toe and twisted my left ankle badly. There I found I had cracked a bone in both my left foot and my right big toe. No surgery was needed, the toe would just have to heal on its own, but I did need a boot for the left foot. This new found immobility, however, wasn't quite the nirvana I had dreamed about. I could feel my pulse in both feet as they continued to swell.
Due to a misunderstanding by my ER doctor about how I'd get the walking boot, I got an opportunity to sleep in one of the hospital beds in the ER overnight. By 9:30 am this morning after having spent the night in a lit room, listening to co-workers chat about weddings, fishing and other personal stuff, as well as sharing experiences with other ER patients, I was an unhappy camper.
When physiotherapy finally showed up at 10:10 am it was clear they expected me to figure out how to get the boot and bring it back so they could show me how to use it. At this point I became slightly unhinged. I had been looked at by the doctor last night about 11 pm and had waited until 1 am to find they couldn't locate crutches or a boot for me. I was told then to stay overnight and physio would have a boot, which they clearly didn't. So at 10:30 am this morning I left the ER after merely 13 hours with a pair of crutches, a walker, a prescription for Tylenol 3 and another for the boot. I drove home, hobbled into the house, showered and got into my own bed for some real rest.
Now somewhat rested, I can look at this situation more rationally. I take full responsibility for not picking up after myself and tripping over those shoes, and some responsibility for not advocating for myself very well in the ER. I could have asked more questions or pushed more, but the only change in results might have been I got a better night's sleep. I still need the boot, which Paul can pick up tomorrow when he returns using his able feet.
My left foot is magnificently sore and my right toe is beginning to display those telltale, black, blues and purples of a nasty bruise. In fact the left foot is beginning to turn dark as well.
This is not the knitting nirvana I had daydreamed about, I can't imagine at the moment picking up any needles. When Paul's back I will get that waited-on effect I hoped for, but today, today nirvana is painful and not that blissful state I had in mind.
Wednesday was a busy work day for me chucked full of important meeting after meeting, all requiring that I pay close attention to what was going on or contributing to the goings on. By the end of the day I was exhausted from all the extroversion required throughout the day. I came home, made dinner and crashed for awhile before deciding it was necessary to go upstairs to get something. It was there the trap I had inadvertently set for myself sprung.
As I entered the door I had kicked off the 1.5 inch or 3.8 cm Clark rubber soled mules I had worn all day without thinking about their placement. About 8:30 pm, without bothering to turn on the light in the hall, I found them. The big toe on the right foot got tangled up in the first shoe and as I tried to regain my balance, the other shoe caused me to twist my left foot to the left. I laid on the floor in a fetal position sobbing for a few minutes. Mike, the cat, knew something was wrong and did his best to comfort me. Since Paul was away, I had to rely on myself to figure out next steps.
Looking at the right toe I knew it was broken, cracked or something. I did hope icing the left foot would be enough, but the pain didn't seem to subside with it. So at this point I was quite sure I needed professional help and I crawled back up the steps, limped to the car and drove myself to the local ER, thinking I broke my toe and twisted my left ankle badly. There I found I had cracked a bone in both my left foot and my right big toe. No surgery was needed, the toe would just have to heal on its own, but I did need a boot for the left foot. This new found immobility, however, wasn't quite the nirvana I had dreamed about. I could feel my pulse in both feet as they continued to swell.
Due to a misunderstanding by my ER doctor about how I'd get the walking boot, I got an opportunity to sleep in one of the hospital beds in the ER overnight. By 9:30 am this morning after having spent the night in a lit room, listening to co-workers chat about weddings, fishing and other personal stuff, as well as sharing experiences with other ER patients, I was an unhappy camper.
When physiotherapy finally showed up at 10:10 am it was clear they expected me to figure out how to get the boot and bring it back so they could show me how to use it. At this point I became slightly unhinged. I had been looked at by the doctor last night about 11 pm and had waited until 1 am to find they couldn't locate crutches or a boot for me. I was told then to stay overnight and physio would have a boot, which they clearly didn't. So at 10:30 am this morning I left the ER after merely 13 hours with a pair of crutches, a walker, a prescription for Tylenol 3 and another for the boot. I drove home, hobbled into the house, showered and got into my own bed for some real rest.
Now somewhat rested, I can look at this situation more rationally. I take full responsibility for not picking up after myself and tripping over those shoes, and some responsibility for not advocating for myself very well in the ER. I could have asked more questions or pushed more, but the only change in results might have been I got a better night's sleep. I still need the boot, which Paul can pick up tomorrow when he returns using his able feet.
My left foot is magnificently sore and my right toe is beginning to display those telltale, black, blues and purples of a nasty bruise. In fact the left foot is beginning to turn dark as well.
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| More than anything this shows how swollen my feet are today |
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