I had this whole post written about staying positive and focusing on the good in times when you’re feeling low, but I felt like it’d be really disingenuous if I posted that out there in the world when I’ve been acting like the exact opposite.
My leg is in the most pain from about 8pm to 6am. I didn’t really need the pain meds in the hospital the night of the incident, but I woke up at 3am on Tuesday morning begging Sean to find the pain meds. I really think it has something to do with the position I’m sleeping in. There’s no other way but to sleep on my back, but I think my body’s so used to turning to one side that it’s just naturally inclined to turn when I get sleepy.
Since then, I’ve been only taking pain meds right before bed, which has served me well until yesterday. Usually, I fall asleep quickly and don’t wake up until Sean’s work alarm goes off. When I wake up, it feels like my body registers that I’ve been in a weird position all night and my ankle tries to compensate all at once with pain. Yesterday, that meant me eating some dry toast in bed, taking another pain pill, and falling alseep again until about 9am.
That was all fine and good while I was in the splint.
I thought the splint was uncomfortable because it felt really tight around the ankle. Any time my foot was not elevated, my toes would start to throb and turn purple. No good. I kept telling Sean, “They must have formed the ankle of this splint incorrectly. It always cuts off circulation to my feet.”
We visited the orthopedic doctor yesterday. His nurse delicately cut off the splint and put my ankle up on a pillow (pretty, pretty princess!) to wait for the doctor. My whole ankle was even more swollen than before and blackish-purple. Sean and I made jokes about it, ha ha! My mom’s ankles were this swollen when she had hip replacement surgery. Look! It’s like a tennis ball in my leg. I didn’t even think that the reason my splint was getting so uncomfortable was because my ankle was continuing to swell.
The doctor came in and I was being my jovial self, because that’s how I am at the doctor’s. It’s my defense mechanism when confronted with medicinal bad news. He checked out my ankle, pressing on areas and asking where it was tender, and he glanced over the leg where the actual broken bone is. Then he just mentioned in passing that I’m on the brink of needing surgery.
Acawhat?! I thought it was a joke. I whipped my head around and, still half-smiling, said, “No?!”
The huge ankle and tenderness to the touch meant that ligaments are probably torn. We have three options: 1. just do surgery (why would I choose that if I don’t need it?!), 2. put a cast on it and hope it’s not torn ligaments, but if it is your ankle will heal all wonky, 3. put on a temporary boot, get an MRI to determine if surgery is actually necessary, and go from there.
I was still stunned from the surgery thing. Let me remind you that no one at the ER even thought my leg was broken… So we went from, “This is probably just a bad bruise!” to, “It’s a broken leg!” to, “You’re going to need orthopedic surgery” in less than a week. Since I became a bumbling idiot, the doctor just decided to go with the MRI.
The MRI was supposed to be today, but my insurance needed to hear from the doctor that I definitely needed it. So it’s been moved to Monday, and I have to reschedule my follow-up appointment with the orthopedic doc. That just means I have to wear this damn uncomfortable (100#) boot and wait to hear what is all around bad news, really, for that much longer. And I’m just not feeling that positive about it all, honestly.
Sometimes I’ll just sit somewhere and tear up about it. Oh, woe is me! Why me? I know that I have it pretty darn good, actually. I know that. I really, really do. But it’s so hard to tell myself that and believe it. It’s hard to feel positive about sitting around and not training for races or playing soccer or doing CrossFit. Heck, it even sucks to think that I might spend my vacation days recovering from surgery. Hip, hip, hoorah…
But at least I have insurance. And at least I have vacation days to cover it. At least I have Sean who takes care of me better than I probably deserve. At least, at least, at least. Friday’s mission is to be grateful for what I do have.