I know I said I was starting that new series today, but after the doctor visit yesterday things kind of got away from me. Plus I had to run some software on this laptop and it took hours and hours.
So today you get the details of my doctor’s visit. I was there till kind of late in the day. The doctor and I talked about gardening, like we typically do. He’s a forty-something guy who loves his vegetable gardens. But then so do the rabbits, squirrels, foxes and owls in his area of midtown.
How cute is charlie after latest grooming?
Did you know there’s a sign here in town not far from where he lives that says to watch for the owl family as you’re driving?
Anyway, he said they’ve been adding on to their house, so he didn’t get to do any gardening last year because of the machinery. And this year they still aren’t finished.
I’d sure hate to go through years of construction on my home. But then, he’s a highly paid surgeon. And his wife Holly is my physical therapist.
I had been in such high hopes yesterday morning. My ankle didn’t hurt all that much and I walked around without the boot all day. Seems that was a mistake. By noon my ankle was screaming at me and the nerves on top of my foot were competing with the pain.
(That’s Ivy checking out my iced coffee this morning.)
tests on my ankle:
After they ran some tests, he told me that my right ankle is sprained. And there’s a nerve that goes straight down the front of your leg and over the top of your foot, about a foot long.
He said that got stretched when I stuck my foot in the hole and the rest of me went forward without it. That’s why I’m feeling odd nerve feelings there like I feel from my neck problem down my arms and hands.
They put me in a different lace-up brace and I headed to the pharmacy in 5 o’clock traffic for a steroid pack. I can’t take analgesics due to a hiatal hernia.
I can’t decide if it would have been better had I sprained the good left ankle. Or gone ahead and caused more damage to the already damaged right ankle.
Grateful for the puffy chair:
By the time I got home I was exhausted. I fell into my new puffy but very comfortable chair with Charlie and just sat for awhile. No noise but the birds outside and some kids playing in our separate parking lot.
I usually get tired of their noise and go out and tell them to go home. They don’t live in this part because only four people live here with the separate parking lot. And it does not bother me at all to tell those 10-12 year old kids to get.
But I couldn’t move for awhile, so I listened to them on the Big Wheels or whatever they’re called that they’re too big to be riding on.
I kept hearing what my doctor said: “If we have to, we’ll go back in and clean things up a bit.” Meaning surgery again.
If we have to.
Two years ago:
I thought back over the past two years, years that have had me walking nearly free of the cam boot. Yeah, I ice my ankle every night. But that is a small price to pay to be able to walk around.
I hope this heals well enough so I can get back to that place.
The initial injury was in 2012. I was pretty much in the boot for two years until he did the second surgery in 2014.
Then I was in the boot pretty much for the next two years until suddenly I got to where I could walk pretty well again.
I moved in to this apartment with the boot on.
Straight into a hole:
Then I walk straight into a hole just the size of my foot and did more damage.
This morning when I laid on the floor on my yoga mat after just getting out of bed, I let myself cry. It had been building up.
Coming up on the anniversary Abi died, which is May 10, and which I’ve been avoiding thinking about as best I can. Because I still miss that baby like it was yesterday.
Then I’m tired of pain. So tired of every single day pain.
I’m smart enough to know that everyone has some degree of pain. Mine is nothing special. But it is mine, and I live by myself and everything, like cleaning up the diarrhea Charlie had while I was gone, is on me.
So is getting up every few minutes twice a day after I give him his diuretic pills. And everything else it takes with taking care of pets and myself and my home.
And then there’s the ten days until I planned on heading to the nursery for my plants. I look forward to April 15 like kids look forward to Christmas. It is the beginning of my gardening season really.
Pondering my container garden:
I ponder and ponder what I might like to plant where, what color combinations I might want to try, and entertain myself with all the planning. If you’re a gardener you know exactly what I mean. And I think more than a fair amount of you are.
So I go back to the doctor in three weeks for him to see how the ankle is doing. And I’m hoping that somehow in 10 days I will have the wherewithal to somehow get to the garden nursery.
Even if it means I call them to see if they have a wheelchair and call on Nathan to push me in it around that massive place.
I kind of doubt they have a wheelchair sitting there. But I can call and ask anyway.
It’s not like Nathan has a lot of free time. He has his kids every weekend from Friday through Sunday. And several days a week he picks them up from daycare and takes care of them.
Maybe the steroid pack will work fast:
Well, I’ve got a few weeks to see how things go. About a week’s worth of a steroid pack to take in the meantime.
I’ll get to that series I talked about next week. For now I’m going to try to take it easy and sit myself in my new puffy recliner with my feet up.
By the way, Charlie is slowly but surely figuring it out. If he works up his bravery he can step from the couch, where he has doggy steps to climb, over to the recliner which I keep close to the arm of the couch.
I came in here once yesterday and he was laying in the recliner all by himself. So he got there somehow without my assistance.