Tag Archives: pain

Shedding Skin and Learning to Walk

Two steps forward, one step back.  The circle of life can make you feel as if you are repeating a vicious cycle and the only hope is that you will somehow break free of the rotation and get on the straight path to success.

Such is my life this past week, which I have spent shedding skin and learning to walk.  Sound strange doesn’t it?  On the 15th of November I had surgery, an ankle fusion.  It was a three-month, non-weight bearing recovery and when you are living alone that is enough of a challenge, not to mention isolation.  On the 10th of February I was told that my ankle is completely healed, I can’t hurt it.  The hard cast was removed and I am free to walk on it.walk-fly-crawl

I was warned that the foot would be very sensitive.  They weren’t kidding!  Walking is agony.  I am so glad I still have the medical cane from the original accident six  years ago…the kind that has four feet and stands on its own.  The ankle doesn’t hurt – the foot itself does.

How bad is the foot pain?  I hate shoes, they are generally the first thing I shed when I walk in the door.  However my tennis shoes provide padding, much needed padding.  I wore shoes inside my house all last weekend, and I am wearing tennis shoes to work this week.  Once I take the shoes off inside my house I haven’t been able to walk on the cane; I have had to use my knee cart.  Things are improving though.  This morning I was able to walk, barely, with my cane when barefoot.  Tonight barefoot meant the knee cart.  I am hoping by the weekend I will finally be able to make it up the stairs and into my own bed.

At least I have stopped leaving a dead-skin trail, sort of.  I had never been in a hard cast before, and after three months the leg and foot were extremely dry.  I felt like a crocodile that was shedding it’s skin.  I discovered moisturizing shaving cream was the best thing for washing it; better than a moisturizing soap.  I now treasure my 24-hour body cream more than I ever have.  I’m still slightly flaky, but not as bad — no comments from the peanut gallery please.

So I am now shedding my skin and learning to walk.  I haven’t bounced back as quickly as I had hoped, but I am seeing progress every day.  This morning I was able to walk out the front door and onto the porch by myself, but needed my bag carried.  I hope that after a few more days I’ll be able to carry my own things in and out of the house and start driving myself to work.  That is if they don’t kill me in physical therapy, which begins on Thursday.

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Filed under Coping, disabilities, handicapp, home, Life Changing, Life is a Melting Pot

When the time arrived, I was fine

I had been nervous contemplating ankle surgery for the past two months.  The day finally arrived on November 15, 2016 and surprisingly I was very calm…well, except for a slight rise in blood pressure.  However that went down once they had successfully inserted the IV and I no longer had to fear a vein collapsing and causing problems.

I answered the name, birth date, and what procedure are you here for question numerous times — their way of making sure the patient is aware of what is going on around them.  My daughter had her three children with her and had to pick me up at 4:45 am to get me to the hospital on time.  Once we had me in my pre-surgery room I told her they might as well leave.  That would allow her to get the oldest two to school relatively on time and since it was 2-1/2 hours until my surgery would actually begin there was no purpose in her staying around.  My sister-in-law was scheduled to arrive and pick me up after surgery.

The time passed quickly and before I knew it they transferred me down to another pre-surgery room where I received a block on my leg from the knee down that would not wear off for 16-24 hours.    They had me place my initials on the appropriate surgical leg.  The block went in easily, but I am still wearing the wonderful iodine colored antiseptic they used before the procedure.  An ankle surgery and I have iodine up to the thigh.   When they placed the surgical hat over my hair I laughed and said “isn’t this wear I should have my cell phone to take the selfie of myself just before surgery?”

After that they must have run some good knock-out drugs through my IV, I remember them asking me to breath into a mask, and the next thing I know I was in a post-op room and everything was done.  I don’t even remember being in recovery.  I woke up about 1-1/4 hours after they had anticipated I would be ready to go home.  My sister-in-law had gotten lost and arrived almost right on the dot with when I was actually ready.

So how are things now that the surgery is done and I am home?   We discovered in the hospital that crutches are not my thing.  I also tried them at home and had difficulty as well.  I am very fearful of losing my balance on them and accidentally putting pressure on the leg, which is non-weight bearing for three months.  I am thankful that I have a walker I brought from my parents home, which is much more stable, especially for hopping up and down platform steps to get in and out of my house.  The knee scooter works very well for most things.

Getting dressed is tricky.  My ankle is bandaged/cast very thick.  Stretch sport pants stretch over it.  I’m not sure if I will be able to wear my dress slacks or jeans until after I have been re-cast at least once.  Dressing for work this coming Monday could be interesting.

I am doing well with pain control.  The block wore off in the middle of the night and I woke up in pain at 3:45 am.  A Norco and ice with elevation helped alleviate that within about 45 minutes and I was able to sleep again.  Pain pills are allowed every four hours as needed, I am only needing them about every five hours.

The next three months during which I am non-weight bearing and dependent on others to drive me will be frustrating, but once I am able to put weight on the leg things should get much easier.   I am looking forward to an active 2017 with a repaired ankle and no pain.

what-is-an-ankle-fusion

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Feeling Their Pain

It has been ten months since my husband, Ron, passed away following a fifteen month battle with cancer.  I am doing well, and moving forward in my new life.  I have a cousin…or actually a first cousin once removed if you want to be technical, whose husband has been battling a rare cancer for nine years and is now in the final stages, losing his fight as well.

thankful-for-every-momentI was reading Michelle’s post on Facebook yesterday.  Many notes of sympathy and prayers.  They know her, they know her husband Charlie, they know what a great couple and wonderful marriage they had.  I, on the other hand, have not seen Michelle personally in years.  We were together as children, but not as adults.  We are in contact only by Facebook now.  However, I can truly feel her pain.

As I read her post I could feel the helplessness at watching a man who has lived an active, positive life quickly deteriorate into a person who is lifeless, sick, unable to manage even the simple things in life.   There is no “fix.”  You are moving toward the end and you both know it but don’t really want to say it.  You are losing the person you thought would be there for decades more.   It is an emotional situation like none other you will ever experience.  You aren’t losing a grandparent, parent, sibling, cousin, aunt, uncle, or child.  You are losing a spouse.  It is different and only those who have ever experienced it can understand what a different loss it is.

I typed a reply, relying on my experience.  I had to cut it short.  I was sitting at work and almost started crying because I really can feel what she is going through.  What did I tell her?  Cherish the memories, remind him of those things.  Tell him it was a great marriage.  Tell him you will be okay.  Those are things that will bring him peace as he moves toward the end.

She is going through the hard part.  Then there is the adjustment period following the death.  But as time passes she will be okay.  She will live a new “normal” life without Charlie.  She has a positive attitude and her new life will also be positive and good.  How do I know?  Because that is what I am doing.   I’ve been there.  I can feel her pain.  I know she will persevere and move forward.  That is the type of person she is.

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Nervous? More Like Terrified

Last week I went to a surgeon for a consultation on my ankle.  For those of you who don’t know, six years ago I was riding my motorcycle and was broadsided by a car.  Due to injuries from  that accident my left leg is titanium from the hip ball down through the ankle, with the exception of the knee.

A couple years ago my ankle, which has two plates and several screws in it, developed degenerative arthritis as a result of the impact of the accident. I was told then that surgery was in my future, when it got to the point where pain was affecting my quality of life.  That point arrived this spring and has gotten progressively worse over the summer.  When you are forgoing about 75-85% of what you would normally due because of the pain and swelling, it is time to take action.

The good news is that 95% of the people who have an ankle fusion done, once healed, never have pain again.  The process is done as outpatient surgery.  The bad news, the surgery is done under a local anesthetic for which I will be numbed only from the knee down and away during the entire process.  Not good!  I’m a chicken!

Following the surgery there is a twelve (12) week non-weight bearing period of recovery. I am certainly not looking forward to that time, as I will be dependent on people to drive me everywhere, and I will be living in a colonial home alone.  Prior to the surgery I will need to make sure everything I need is moved to the first floor of the home where I can access it.  I lived like that before after the accident, but I had my husband to help me at that time.

When you hear out-patient, the mind tells you it can’t possibly be as bad as you think.  Well, think again.  When I commented that I could probably go back to work in a day or two the nurse practitioner said no, I will be in a lot of pain that first week.  Well isn’t that an encouraging thought to someone who is already extremely nervous about the entire process.

That evening I sat in my house contemplating the process and the fact that I would be alone.  I looked around and thought sleeping on a couch, learning to wash my hair at the kitchen sink, fix my own meals, maneuver to do laundry, carry things, and get dressed, all while popping pain pills and with a cast on my ankle on which I can not put any pressure  at all.

I panicked.  I called my sister-in-law and she has agreed to come down and stay with me those first few days while I get adjusted.  A second bonus, if for some reason she is unable to come, my best friend who lives in North Carolina has volunteered to drive up and stay with me.  I feel much better having someone here while I am learning to hobble around and figure out how to do things one-legged.

So, am I nervous?  No, I’m terrified, but I will get through this.  What other choice to I have?  I have decided that surgery when you are the subject of a trauma and unconscious is much easier to handle then contemplating and analyzing prior to a planned procedure.  Unfortunately I have a lot of time to contemplate as the procedure isn’t scheduled until the middle of November.  Maybe I’ll relax and get used to the idea.  Who am I fooling, that isn’t likely to handle, but one must think positive.

 

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