The best line I’ve heard in a while.
To be encased in a plastic grey solid knee high aircast boot is traumatic. Its especially traumatic for someone with a love affair with shoes. My flat is littered with them. Tall, spiky, chunky, sleek, old, new, colourful, scruffy, tidy, patent, sexy, homey and slightly odd. They line both sides of my hallway, like cheerleaders to wave me off and welcome me home. Boots are strewn all over the cupboard and boxes of heels are hidden in the wardrobe. I own a fair number of heels. A few pairs…
My aircast was a flat heeled prison that could only be partnered with another flat shoe. Partnered in the loose sense because nothing matches an aircast, apart from another one and we certainly don’t want that.
I’m average height – 5’8″ – not small, not abnormally tall, just right. Throw in a couple of inches from a perfect heel and it all comes together.
Yesterday was three months exactly to the day of my rupture. Three months of trying to perk up a left foot with pink Converse, patent brogues and pointy gold tipped flats. Anything to brighten up my 5’8″
It all came to head last week after several successful (booted) dates. Which ended with the words…I’m holding out for someone taller.
Well I’m holding out for a hero but we can’t win them all.
Since I kicked one crutch away last weekend everything has started to move a lot quicker, including me.
I have in no particular order…walked to physio, navigated the London underground system, mastered an escalator and gone back to the office. I am down to zero wedges in my boot, I think there is a Latin word for this, but as English escapes me most days…
If I was pregnant this would probably be called my ‘nesting’ phase as I prep for birth. In this instance the birth is my appointment with my surgeon next Tuesday and the potential for me to wear two shoes. In honour of this momentous occasion I have brought a new pair of Nikes, I am so pleased the fashion elite have deemed trainers as this season’s shoe du jour. They will be graced by some Tom Cruise style heel inserts, I’ve always wanted to be a couple of inches taller.
I’ve gone back to work part-time, day on day off and out of rush hour. It was bizarre to back in the middle of Covent Garden. I was found slowly wandering in awe outside the office by a colleague. I’m pleased that I haven’t lost all my London etiquette skills and even with a boot and crutch I still stand on the right on the escalators.
In four days a great deal has happened, I wonder what the next four will bring. I am now bookable for coffee, adventures, run-ins and general things you can do on two feet.
I’m down to one crutch so this morning I made myself a cuppa and carried it. No flasks, backpacks or faff.
When it comes to getting off crutches, I have accepted I am a late bloomer. I should have been walking a while ago but for reasons unknown I just couldn’t get it. On Friday my Physio took a crutch away and asked me to walk down the corridor. I’m an options person so I would have taken anything, anything else other than do this. I tried, I hopped, shuffling, cheated, did everything but successfully walk with one crutch. I nearly cried but the practical part of me knew tears would blur my vision and unstable me further.
I was sent off with the advice of not to think about it. Stand, march on the spot and try to walk but don’t think about it.
The former was done with gusto – its amazing what you can do when you have Grazia to occupy your mind.
I tried walking on Saturday, the steps flowed better but would still have been judged as a hop by anyone. Failure.
On Sunday morning I tried it again and it just clicked. I don’t know why, how or what but it just made sense and before I knew it I was walking around my flat and then before I knew that I was walking around a pub with a pint of cold cider.
Who knew these things could happen??
For the first time in my life I am continuing to receive good reports. Yesterday was my six week post op review appointment. There’s lots going on…
I’m now down to one wedge
I don’t need to see the Dr again for another 4-6 weeks
Physio starts Monday
I’ve been given the okay for delicate range of movement in the foot
I’m still on two crutches until the physio says otherwise. Did try one step but even writing this makes me feel nauseous again
The boot will continue to be part of my wardrobe for another 4 weeks or so
I’m really happy. My Dr is really happy. We’re all really happy. I hope you reader are happy.
Its raining here which is trying to scupper all my hard work – wet surfaces and crutches make for slips, skids and sore legs. If this was a Hollywood movie my post Dr visit slip would have ended with me flat on my face and a tense hospital visit to see if I had undone all my hard work. It was in fact a mini slip which whilst shocking was a good reminder that I am not a crutch wielding superhero and should be careful.
My reward is to go shopping. I’ve been on a shopping diet lately, so I am so excited I feel like a 7 year old off to a birthday party. I know all I will want to buy is shoes, however I am focussing my mind (see previous post for this in action) on items which are not dependent on me, a) queuing for a changing room or b) needing to remove the boot to try on.
Four week post op report was good. Off to Highgate to see my lovely but schooled in ‘Tough Love’ Dr.
I have taken to necking ibuprofen before my appointments and today I was glad I did. The Dr is really pleased with how I am healing. In fact so pleased that he insisted on manipulating the tendon to show it moving my foot, quite like a gleeful puppeteer. School of Tough Love in action. I was rather green faced puppet – however pleased the report its not really what I wanted to see on a Friday afternoon.
We tried to take out two wedges (from four) but the tendon started to stretch and hurt so we opted to remove just one. Why isn’t there a half wedge?
Next appointment is in two weeks time and we’re aiming for that to be a two wedge removal consultation and to start physio.
Post appointment I treated myself to a coffee and watched the world go by. I have felt quite vulnerable when I’ve been out by myself but I’m starting to build up confidence on my crutches and managed a rather speedy hop back to the car.
Today was indeed a good day.
I am off the to see the Dr today. Tomorrow is four weeks since my op and its been the longest and shortest month. Basically an oxymoron of a month.
As you can see in the picture, my leg has shrunk further and as you might be able to see I think I might be getting a sore from my aircast.
Just the day to day sexy stuff of a rupture.
I am not looking forward to the Drs. I am pretty positive in most situations but have decided to go with a worse case scenario with today’s consultation. I haven’t done anything to warrant it, but if I think this then anything else is fine.