Help for Healing

Bitter & Sweet, living daily with grief


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Footloose and Fancy-Free

Um, that is not me these days. After 16 months of foot pain, the surgery finally happened last Tuesday. It is called Topaz and they drill little holes in the tissue above the ankle which causes blood flow. Blood flow supports healing. This time, no ice or ibprofin. Inflammation is a good thing because it means the blood is flowing.

If you know me, you are aware I’m a bit of a workaholic which generally means I don’t follow medical orders well. This time, I have been the model, compliant patient. I’m not taking any chances on this.

Compared to other things, this foot thing isn’t so bad. I’ve worn an aircast 24 hours a day for the last week, along with a compression stocking on the other foot. The annoying part is sleeping with them because I get ridiculously hot.

Foot and Ankle Cast - Royalty-free Orthopedic Boot Stock Photo

This morning was the first day I was allowed out of bed. Yesterday was the longest day of my life. I wanted to jump out of my skin. I couldn’t wait for today to try and establish some kind of normalcy again, even though I know this will still take a lot of time. I was out of sorts until night time when I finally figured out what to send Tim for. Lucky Charms. A couple bowls of that made me very happy.

When I woke up, I took my shower with the plastic bag. This time I stood on my own instead of sitting while Tim used the handheld showerhead. I couldn’t believe those ten minutes on my own wore me out. I went back to bed immediately and slept for a solid two hours.

Two out of three meetings were canceled. One out of two sessions rescheduled. Thank God. It’s now 7 pm and I’m worn out, even with the napping. Tomorrow morning I see the doc for post-op and I’m hoping he will shed some light on what is next. The surgery went well, but there is no way of knowing if it worked until I start walking again. Not sure how long that is going to take but I know I won’t shortcut the process. I can’t afford to not have this be successful.

As usual, the thing I have been reminded of is not to take your health for granted. The smallest things are the biggest reminders. I know I can’t walk without crutches and I can’t walk far. But when I sit on the bed and see the dresser a few feet away but I can’t go pick up the comb, that’s when I realize just how helpless I can be. I realize how much I have to depend on other people.

And of course, I realize that so much of my day is filled with things I think are necessary, but they really aren’t. Even though I got cabin fever by the end of the week, there was something nice about the simplicity I was reduced to when I had to stay in bed. Lots of “noise” gets cut out.

Folks around me are going through more difficult things. A surgery with a large mass. The loss of a parent. I will take this small bump in the road. Besides, just about anything is bearable with Lucky Charms!


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Agony of De-Feet

I have been told throughout my life that I have very pretty feet. It’s a consolation for having a stomach that makes everyone and their sister ask me if I’m pregnant. At least my feet are nice. I have to say though, they definitely have taken a beating.

Remember this from 2012?

Darcy's foot xray

That picture was worth re-posting. That was David’s 10th birthday when I stepped on a nail when doing yard work. (No, I obviously didn’t have shoes on. Did you have to ask?)

Two weeks ago I had a second foot surgery. My doctor asked me if my surgeon knew how I was. You know, never stopping or sitting down. I told her of course he did because he did my other surgery. Besides, I’ve slowed down a lot over the years.

Today I went in to get my stitches out. I knew it was going to be ugly because I know what a baby I am. What I didn’t expect was how awful it looked. I had Tim take a picture because I knew you would want to see it too.

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First of all, it makes my foot look ginormous. They are actually not very big. The marker is from the doc when he did the surgery. All the purple though, is bruising. No, it usually isn’t that bad for most patients.

I don’t mean to be a bad patient. I really don’t. I’m not trying to be a hero. I don’t want any more damage to be done. I was pretty proud of myself for being as still as I have been the last two weeks. But the more we talked, the doc just kept shaking his head at me. He wondered why I didn’t actually follow the written instructions he gave me.

The second week, I just assumed things were “as needed” (even though it wasn’t written that way) so no, I hadn’t been taking the anti-inflammatory medicine three times a day. No, I haven’t been icing twice a day. I wonder why the foot is swollen and inflamed?

Yes, I did go to Dave’s cross-country meet by myself, on crutches, in the rain where it was so muddy and slippery people were falling. But I couldn’t miss it, right? And yes, Tim and I painted the bathroom last night and Tim doesn’t do trim so yes I had to be on the ladder.  Oops. Ok, I guess I didn’t do as well as I thought.

By the way, I was only using one crutch for the last week because it was easier. Turns out I was using it under the wrong arm. Duh. I honestly had no idea. That one wasn’t my fault. And it’s just unfortunate that I was using it under the shoulder where I am already in Physical Therapy three times a week for it. But hey, I stopped going to therapy so I could take it easier these last couple of weeks.

Sigh.

I admit it. I’m not the model patient. But if they only knew how good I thought I was being because of all the things I DIDN’T do!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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Miscellaneous Tidbits

I wrote a blog about losing stuff, and I forgot to mention the one positive. I have NOT lost my sense of humor. Thank God.

Last week I was driving Dad and I home from Lockport. That’s about a 45 minute drive home and I’ve made the drive a million times. We stopped at Millersport Market so I could pick up a fabulous dinner for Colin’s 33rd birthday. It wasn’t exactly cooking, but it sort of was. I had just enough time to get home, get it in the oven and eat before we had Frankie’s first hockey game after being laid up on crutches.

After a few minutes, I looked at Dad and told him I was feeling confused. I couldn’t get my bearings. Where was I? I knew I was on the expressway but suddenly nothing looked familiar. I studied the signs and realized that somehow I went east on 90 instead of west. How the heck did I do that? Well let me just tell you, it is 17 miles before the next exit. I had to drive all the way to Pembroke before I could turn around. That’s 34 miles out of the way. At first, I was teary-eyed, telling myself what a sucky parent I was. How hard is it to make a dinner for your kid’s birthday? Impossible for me. But then Colin called and said he wasn’t home anyway so we decided to have the dinner the next day. Dad and I joked all the way home about the scenic drive and the chance to spend some quality time together.

Yesterday, Dad got a phone call. He put it on speaker. The woman said she was from the company he used to work for and was following up on the hearing aids he got. His insurance had this amazing deal where he got hearing aids for free. They usually are 3-4 thousand dollars so it was quite a thing. Dad just looked at me in utter confusion. I explained what the call was. They wanted to do a survey with him. I then said into the phone, “He can’t understand what you are saying because he ISN’T WEARING HIS HEARING AIDS!” We laughed our butts off. He doesn’t wear them most of the time which is quite convenient when he wants to block us out :).

Then we had to go to the eye doctor for Dad. Most of the patients in there are older. It’s only a five-minute appointment with the actual doctor. But you see two other people first for various tests. This one older guy gets picked up and I hear the nurse say, “Oh, ha ha. I was waiting for the joke. I knew you would have one.” Never fear, I got to hear the jokes before the morning was over.

What did the cookie say to the doctor? I feel crummy.

Why does a hummingbird hum? Because it doesn’t know the words.

Cute. Very cute. Until the third and fourth time I heard the jokes. He told them to everyone. I wanted to tell him he needed some new material.

Then Dad and I went back to Lockport to see my sister in the hospital. (No, smart alec, I didn’t drive all the way to Pembroke this time. But you can be sure I was not on automatic pilot. I paid attention to every turn I made!) She has a blockage in her pancreas. She is being transported to Buffalo General today. They will do a procedure where they explore the blockage. If it is gallstones as hoped, they will be removed. If it is a mass, they will do a biopsy. After the procedure, they will determine the next step. She hasn’t eaten anything, or even had ice chips since Sunday and it’s now Friday. At least she is not in excruciating pain anymore.

In her room, her surgeon drew her a lovely picture of her inside organs to explain things.
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We got talking about what NPO means. I knew it meant nothing by mouth, but we looked up what the actual meaning is. Turns out it’s Latin for “nils per os.” So that became the game, asking nurses who walked in if they knew what it meant. Not one person knew. I know a nursing student who is taking his last finals before graduating. He didn’t know either. I’m so proud. If the question is ever on Jeopardy, I’ve got it covered.

But the most mature joke of all, was that picture. Now honestly, doesn’t that look like a penis at the bottom? I mean, not a good picture of one, but at first glance? The nurses agreed. My sister’s roommate is about a million years old. I don’t think she thought the joke was funny. Dad didn’t mind. But then, he didn’t have his hearing aids in so he probably didn’t even know what we were saying.

By the way, that is supposed to be her pancreas.