pameladean (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pameladean) wrote2018-01-09 11:07 pm
pameladean) wrote2018-01-09 11:07 pm
Entry tags:
All you nagging commenters were right; also incidental adventures
On Monday I called the nurse-advice line associated with my health insurance and described the history of my injured ankle. The nurse said I should be seen by a medical professional who could decide if I needed an X-ray. I hadn't gotten around to the call very early in the day and then they had to call me back, so my clinic was closed by then. I slept poorly and finally got up at 8:30, fed the cats early, and called my clinic. They have same-day appointments and offered me either 10:40 or 2:30. I took the second, naturally,
Pat who is not on DW and I have a writing date on Tuesdays, unless we don't. We'd missed a couple of days during the holiday chaos, but had agreed to meet today. When apprised of the appointment, she asked where my clinic was and then said she could drive me there after we had lunch. She picked me up at 12:30 and we went off to our usual haunt, the Uptown branch of Pizza Luce. This establishment presented an alarming face to the world. The parking lot was full of trucks and vans and a kind of tank truck. We parked on the street and approached a couple of Pizza Luce employees who were having a smoke in the back, and they told us that they were closed because a pipe had burst, but they'd be open again tomorrow. We wished one another joy of the lovely weather, and Pat and I got back into the car and tried to salvage our plans. Pat started heading for Patisserie 46, a wonderful place but sometimes a bit short of food for me. I suggested that Blackbird was closer to the clinic. She dropped me off in front and then had to range around finding parking, but eventually we were seated in the tiny booth in the very back. We'd given up on the idea of a writing date because our time was too short by then, but we had a very nice lunch. They are still serving breakfast at 12:50, so I got a tofu scramble with gigantic pieces of broccoli and a lot of spinach and hash-browns. The server also asked me if I'd like a side of avocado, and of course I would, but it turned out to be an entire avocado half. After a highly physiological conversation about aging, exercise, and bone repair, we repaired to the clinic. I thanked Pat fervently and went in.
The doctor who saw me was very pleasant and somewhat stunningly cute. He poked at my ankle and said that he would call it a bad sprain, with no need for an X-ray, but that if I wanted one for absolute assurance, he'd send me downstairs. At this point I felt I was all in, so I said I'd like the X-ray. He said for the sprain he'd recommend an Ace bandage followed by physical therapy. When I went back upstairs a couple of medical assistants showed me how to put on an Ace bandage, and I put my sock and shoe back over it and left. This was a mistake. They hadn't told me what would happen next, but they also hadn't given me the usual papers you get before leaving.
About five minutes after I got home one of them called to say that I actually had a small fracture on the outside part of my foot, and the doctor thought I needed a walking boot. Could I come back for it? It was 4:04; the clinic closes at 5:00. I rushed about cursing loudly and getting ready to go out and get back on a bus; but Raphael, who was also rushing about finishing up some work, told me that it would be possible to give me a ride. We got there at 4:37. I had a short wait during which a lot of people left, but then the other medical assistant called me in and showed me how to put on and adjust the boot. She said I should wear it during the day for two weeks, but not sleep in it.
It looks like a giant robot foot. It's gray and square and just enormous. I was told I shouldn't wear a sock with it because wrinkles could cause problems. However, the instructions say primly, "Comfort may be increased by wearing a cotton or cast sock. (NOT INCLUDED.)" Gosh, thanks so much, manufacturer of giant robot boots. That's so helpful. I have ordered a cast sock online. I regret to say that it does not appear to contain the cast of Hamlet, or Slings and Arrows, or Noises Off, or Arcadia. False advertising, I say. It will be here Friday.
I complained bitterly about the boot, which felt awful, all the way home. I adjusted it a couple of times and it wasn't quite so dire, but the thought of clumping around in it for two weeks was and is depressing. I told Raphael that while the stated purpose was to immobilize the injury, the obvious real purpose was to be too cumbersome for me to walk around in.
Cassie does not like the boot. She got down on her belly when she saw it and slunk backwards as I walked towards her. Saffron failed to note it at first, until she tried to walk past me, when she started and skittered by in a big hurry. She later sniffed it thoroughly and decided that it wasn't dangerous. Cassie is now sanguine about it if it's just sitting or standing about, but if I move towards her she starts going in figure eights. She really wants to be a pace cat and walk very slowly in front of me, but she has to keep checking on the boot.
I am sincerely grateful to everybody in the comments who told me to see a doctor and get an X-ray. However, I hate this damn boot. I've taken it off twice, lying about with my foot up for half an hour until the horror faded, and then putting it back on. This time the adjustment is much better. But it's still enormous and, in my opinion, likely to trip me if I try to move much. My mother asked me if I remembered the time my middle brother had to wear a plaster cast for eight weeks at the height of summer -- he got his leg caught in the wheel of his tricycle when he was three, and had to learn to walk a second time when the cast finally came off. It stank to heaven, much like Claudius's deeds. I am glad I don't have one of those. And I'm glad it's not summer, or any part of hiking season. But this boot. Ugh.
Pamela
Pat who is not on DW and I have a writing date on Tuesdays, unless we don't. We'd missed a couple of days during the holiday chaos, but had agreed to meet today. When apprised of the appointment, she asked where my clinic was and then said she could drive me there after we had lunch. She picked me up at 12:30 and we went off to our usual haunt, the Uptown branch of Pizza Luce. This establishment presented an alarming face to the world. The parking lot was full of trucks and vans and a kind of tank truck. We parked on the street and approached a couple of Pizza Luce employees who were having a smoke in the back, and they told us that they were closed because a pipe had burst, but they'd be open again tomorrow. We wished one another joy of the lovely weather, and Pat and I got back into the car and tried to salvage our plans. Pat started heading for Patisserie 46, a wonderful place but sometimes a bit short of food for me. I suggested that Blackbird was closer to the clinic. She dropped me off in front and then had to range around finding parking, but eventually we were seated in the tiny booth in the very back. We'd given up on the idea of a writing date because our time was too short by then, but we had a very nice lunch. They are still serving breakfast at 12:50, so I got a tofu scramble with gigantic pieces of broccoli and a lot of spinach and hash-browns. The server also asked me if I'd like a side of avocado, and of course I would, but it turned out to be an entire avocado half. After a highly physiological conversation about aging, exercise, and bone repair, we repaired to the clinic. I thanked Pat fervently and went in.
The doctor who saw me was very pleasant and somewhat stunningly cute. He poked at my ankle and said that he would call it a bad sprain, with no need for an X-ray, but that if I wanted one for absolute assurance, he'd send me downstairs. At this point I felt I was all in, so I said I'd like the X-ray. He said for the sprain he'd recommend an Ace bandage followed by physical therapy. When I went back upstairs a couple of medical assistants showed me how to put on an Ace bandage, and I put my sock and shoe back over it and left. This was a mistake. They hadn't told me what would happen next, but they also hadn't given me the usual papers you get before leaving.
About five minutes after I got home one of them called to say that I actually had a small fracture on the outside part of my foot, and the doctor thought I needed a walking boot. Could I come back for it? It was 4:04; the clinic closes at 5:00. I rushed about cursing loudly and getting ready to go out and get back on a bus; but Raphael, who was also rushing about finishing up some work, told me that it would be possible to give me a ride. We got there at 4:37. I had a short wait during which a lot of people left, but then the other medical assistant called me in and showed me how to put on and adjust the boot. She said I should wear it during the day for two weeks, but not sleep in it.
It looks like a giant robot foot. It's gray and square and just enormous. I was told I shouldn't wear a sock with it because wrinkles could cause problems. However, the instructions say primly, "Comfort may be increased by wearing a cotton or cast sock. (NOT INCLUDED.)" Gosh, thanks so much, manufacturer of giant robot boots. That's so helpful. I have ordered a cast sock online. I regret to say that it does not appear to contain the cast of Hamlet, or Slings and Arrows, or Noises Off, or Arcadia. False advertising, I say. It will be here Friday.
I complained bitterly about the boot, which felt awful, all the way home. I adjusted it a couple of times and it wasn't quite so dire, but the thought of clumping around in it for two weeks was and is depressing. I told Raphael that while the stated purpose was to immobilize the injury, the obvious real purpose was to be too cumbersome for me to walk around in.
Cassie does not like the boot. She got down on her belly when she saw it and slunk backwards as I walked towards her. Saffron failed to note it at first, until she tried to walk past me, when she started and skittered by in a big hurry. She later sniffed it thoroughly and decided that it wasn't dangerous. Cassie is now sanguine about it if it's just sitting or standing about, but if I move towards her she starts going in figure eights. She really wants to be a pace cat and walk very slowly in front of me, but she has to keep checking on the boot.
I am sincerely grateful to everybody in the comments who told me to see a doctor and get an X-ray. However, I hate this damn boot. I've taken it off twice, lying about with my foot up for half an hour until the horror faded, and then putting it back on. This time the adjustment is much better. But it's still enormous and, in my opinion, likely to trip me if I try to move much. My mother asked me if I remembered the time my middle brother had to wear a plaster cast for eight weeks at the height of summer -- he got his leg caught in the wheel of his tricycle when he was three, and had to learn to walk a second time when the cast finally came off. It stank to heaven, much like Claudius's deeds. I am glad I don't have one of those. And I'm glad it's not summer, or any part of hiking season. But this boot. Ugh.
Pamela
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I am glad you are not walking on an unsupported fracture and I am so sorry about the inconvenience of the boot.
*hugs*
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I am no good re walking boots because when I had that bad sprain that they thought might have been a break, I got prescribed one too, and I COULD NOT walk in it. I'm klutzy anyway, and I was slower than a snail towing a turtle. I left it off a lot and just elevated and iced, which everyone scolded me for, altho then T finally went out and got me a very firm ankle brace with kind of BDSM straps that I could wear while napping or hopping around the house even, and that was a lot better. However I didn't have an actual break like you do.
Ankles. WHY.
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I hope the cats will get used to it.
(on leaving the clinic -- it's usually not clear to me either; I just ask what to do next, when I think of it)
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Horrible as it is to be clumping about and distressing the cats, yay! for getting treatment!
Somewhere lurking in my formative experiences is a, well, middle-aged, and quite possibly younger than I now am, but they seemed old then, warrant officer with a medical speciality pronouncing "they can't fix feet" with an emphasis appropriate to enunciating the doom of all that lives. It stuck with me. It stuck with me in part because it's apparently still factual; feet are this implausible collection of small bones and connective tissue and doubtful angles, and there is not much fixing them. I can't say the, but certainly A failure mode for that kind of small break of the metatarsals is that it never knits and walking is never after free of pain. I can't see you wanting to go mermaid at all, really, and very much hope it's a fate you entirely avoid!
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Still, I'm very glad you got an X-ray. And I'm glad the cats are coming around.
What will physical therapy involve?
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Nuts
I know the boot is awful, but it really will help you heal faster, and heal without your ankle tendons getting into a permanent snit. It sounds like your fracture and mine are very similar - mine was an avulsion, a piece of the bone was pulled off by the tendon when I over-extended it. I worried for weeks about the tendon not re-adhering to the ankle bone until my doc explained that the tendon was basically a sheet, or wide strip, and only a small part of it had pulled off the bone. So it'll heal just sticking out there doing nuttin, but if you keep aggravating it you can end up with issues.
I lived in compression socks for both ankles for nearly two months - they kept the swelling down tremendously, my PT was very happy with that. I slept in them when I could, I was supposed to sleep in the boot but not hardly. The dr/pt's office gave me the socks for free, it's just a tube of compression material cut off at a usable length. I had the occasional wrinkle issue at the front of my ankle but for the most part they just did their magic. My coworker, who broke her foot two days after I broke my ankle, was having a lot of issue with swelling until I gave her one of my socks, then it cleared right up. (she's in the shorter version of the boot; she graduated over xmas holiday and can now wear normal shoes).
When I first went in, they gave me a corset-like thing that involves two different kinds of ties and velcro that kept the ankle straight when it was in a shoe, and still kept me from doing anything stupid when it wasn't - that's what I ended up sleeping in (sometimes) for the worst ankle. It was this one: (https://www.amazon.com/Zenith-Ankle-Brace-Adjustable-Support/dp/B01LYQU9K4/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1515595551&sr=8-4&keywords=ankle+brace+lace+up+adjustable+support) and I'm glad to see it's reasonable, for medical gear.
I was stuck at home unable to drive for a solid month (I broke my right ankle, and I have a stick shift). I was lucky at that point that my car was recalled for airbags, so they gave me automatic-driven loaners for the next 6 weeks - so I could drive by just using my left foot. That ended a week before xmas holiday break, so my friend swapped cars with me for the three days I needed. It improved enough by the time work started back up last week that I can drive my own car now, so that was three months total. I am still doing exercises for my sprains, and still have some weakness with side-to-side stuff (or going down stairs, man that sucks, and our house is a split-level). And that's with all the recommended PT, and taking super care not to abuse it. So I'm recommending to stick with it even though it sucks and is no fun and uncomfortable, because it's actually kind of a big deal and your ongoing mobility is at stake.
Lots and lots of hugs, and I hope you're feeling better soon.
Re: Nuts
Re: Nuts
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Re: Nuts
Re: Nuts
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Incapacitating injuries are the pits, and your boot sounds nasty. To the extent that you can manage it, consider yourself someone who needs to spend most of her time with her foot elevated and avoid the boot as much as possible (assuming the Trained Professionals are okay with it). The boot is the device to allow you to clump to the bathroom or from one room to another. Otherwise, the pillow-on-chair construction is your friend.
Your travails with boot comfort are a different order of magnitude but a similar family as my "I can't keep this @#$%!! compression bandage from sliding down my leg!" annoyance. I've ditched the compression bandage in favor of tight leggings and an actual bandage for the epic blister (which popped last night, leaving me with a 2"-wide open sore).
I love your cats. They're so sensible in their reactions to the Robot Foot of Doom. If I were a cat I'd be extremely chary of something big and clunky that could Step On Me.
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A local friend who got a walking boot a few years before that shared my consternation that they wanted us to wear these weird baggy things and not our custom-fit hand-knitted socks which did not get nearly as smelly or clammy.
Part of what I liked about having the boot is that it's like wearing some kind of flashing traffic light. People stay out of my way and are tolerant of me being slow on a sidewalk or in a store, without needing such a wide berth as crutches do.
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Wishing you a fast healing.
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Hope everything heals well and speedily, and that you're as comfy as possible in the meantime!
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