The Chronic Pain Chronicles, Part 3: The Year Was 2005

2005 was a crazy year, but the summer was the craziest of all. 

I started 2005 in the midst of healing from a left tibial tendon reconstruction that was done in November 2004. I had been in a walking cast for a couple of months and still had to wear it for the next 3 or 4. Is this what I get for doing water aerobics? Yes, I tore my tendon while doing water aerobics. I don't think this is a normal thing. People don't go around tearing tendons while doing water aerobics, right? But the burning sensation in my left foot let me know that something was really, really wrong. 

I initially went to a podiatrist who prescribed an orthotic. This was one of those old school, hard plastic orthotics that made me feel like I was 80 years old. The orthotic hurt just as much as the pain in my foot and when I complained to the podiatrist, he told me that it just needed to be adjusted. To get it adjusted, I had to go to this "mom-and-pop" shop of a place on the far side of town to a little old man who used an old orthopedic sanding machine. I ended up going to this old man two times and the orthotic was still hurting my feet. Finally, the podiatrist recommended I go to an orthopaedist.

The orthopaedist took one look at my foot and instantly knew it was a torn tendon and knew what surgery it would take to fix it. This came as a surprise to me because surgery was the last thing I thought I would have to do to cure this pain. The surgery went as planned but the recovery was painful and took forever.  Tendons don't have a blood supply, so they take a long time to heal. I was told it could take up to 3 years to fully heal. In the meantime, I had to learn how to maneuver life around a walking cast. I really found no serious disadvantages with the walking cast other than the fact that it was hot. Since it was on my left foot, I could still drive and go about life as usual.

Life as usual for me meant that I was still working my normal job as a corporate trainer. Occasionally this required me to fly to different destinations in and out of the United States, so I made sure to request gate-to-gate assistance at the time my ticket was booked. All travel went well until that ONE time I had to catch a connecting flight out of Miami International Airport. My incoming flight was a little late, but I thought I'd be okay since I would have assistance waiting for me a the gate. I'd never been to MIA before, so I assumed it would be one of those mega golf carts like the other places. Waiting for me at the gate was a frail, little old man with a wheelchair small enough for a child. (Okay, so it wasn't child size but it was small.) I looked at him and he looked at me and we both knew we were in trouble. I squeezed my big butt in that chair, he struggled to push and off we went. I looked at my watch. I knew my other flight was already boarding when I got off the first plane. The old man's breathing became labored. I volunteered to just walk but he said it was okay. I think he fatigued before we got to the gate. He pushed me to the side and said he was going to get help. When he disappeared, I made a break for it. I took off as fast as my walking boot could go. I was close to the gate and heard, "Last call for passenger....". Oh, no! That's me! The gate is in view and I'm frantically waving my arm attempting to let the flight attendant know that I'm here. I'm hoping she'll see my walking cast and have pity on me. I'm finally close enough for her to hear me shout, "Here I am!". To my surprise, she starts scolding me, "Where have you been? The flight was about to leave!" (As if I was shopping or something.) As I'm walking down the corridor to the plane, "Hurry up!" she says. She bangs on the door of the plan, the door unlocks and opens. As I'm limping down the aisle, she proceeds to push me along. Did she not notice I had on a walking cast?!? Everything in me wanted to just snap on her but I didn't want a whole plane full of people madder than they already were (because they had to wait on me) and I was desperate to go home. I arrive at my window seat only to find someone else sitting in it. When I addressed the woman sitting comfortably in my seat reading a book, she curtly replied, "You can have my seat right there." To that the pushy flight attendant said, "Just sit." and so I sat. I was too tired to be mad. My energy was zapped, but the reason why that woman was in my seat was that the seat next to her assigned seat was a beautiful baby girl with blue eyes. So, I sit in an aisle seat where my walking boot had no choice but to stick out a little and get bumped by other people walking down the aisle and the refreshment cart.

It was the end of February 2005, I was walking on a sidewalk talking to a fellow church member when suddenly I fell. The weird thing about this fall is that I never remember tripping over anything or losing my balance. I landed in the grass. I remember thinking it was a soft landing but at the same time, I thought I heard a noise. My fall was so quiet that the person I was walking beside was still walking and talking and didn't even know I'd fallen. When he realized I'd fallen and asked if I was okay, the pain suddenly hit and I said no. The noise I heard was my bone. An ambulance ride to the ER and I find out that I'd fractured my right tibia and broken my right ankle. Back to the orthopaedist and back to surgery I go. After surgery, I have temporary screws and rods in my leg that will have to be taken out in 8 weeks. Imagine...I have a walking boot on my left leg and a cast on my right. It was almost comical. Almost.

Because I had a desk job, I was told I could go back to work in 6 weeks. My husband rented a scooter for me because where I worked is a huge place with multiple buildings and multiple locations. I forgot to mention that during all this time, I was finishing the college degree that was abruptly halted by the drunk driver in Chronicle, Part 1 and was graduating in April. I thought about not going to graduation but I went, scooter and all. The University staff was willing to accommodate me, so I wouldn't have to get off of the scooter, but I wanted to "walk" across the stage. I parked the scooter at one end of the stage (a staff person moved it to the opposite end for me), I hobbled up with stairs, teetered (literally) across the stage, received my diploma, shook the University President's hand, teetered across the other half of the stage, hobbled down the other set of stairs, hopped onto my scooter and scooted out the door.

First I must say that I have the most amazing husband. For 8 weeks, he loaded my scooter and took me back and forth to work. I have to admit that I had fun scooting around my place of employment, scaring some and terrorizing others. Everyone knew where I was at all times because you could always hear me coming and going.

I had the second surgery in June 2005 to remove the screws, returned the scooter and all was back to normal...for now.