2 Months Post-op

Not much to discuss anymore, which is probably a good thing. Last week I was able to liberate myself from the boot, likely forever, and I started taking the stairs again (!), so things are feeling much better. At PT I learned that the swelling looked minimal, and that having my incisions massaged is a special kind of torture. By the way, last week marked two months since surgery!

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Two months later and it’s 35-degrees out. Definitely not August anymore.

I made some other advancements at PT, too, like re-introducing standing leg exercises. I did some leg presses on the reclining slide board, as well as theraband walks, single leg step downs, and balances on one leg. These are all welcome additions to my now-very-stale mat routine. During single leg balances, I impressed my PT (as well as myself) by making a spectacular save for a ball that rebounded poorly, and I chalked it all up to many years of stability training in the bank. Let’s hope my aerobic memory proves just as good as my muscle memory.

I also spent some time with the blood flow resistance cuffs, so I can explain that a little more now. It’s exactly what it sounds like — a blood pressure cuff from hell. They slide all the way up the thigh, and then my PT pumps up the cuffs while monitoring a pulse in my leg, and sets the pressure near 70% restriction. It’s not exactly a comfortable experience. I imagine it’s what being killed by a boa constrictor feels like. And it makes it super hard to use your legs.

The science is that by cutting off venous return (and some arterial flow), essentially depriving the tissues of oxygen, the cuffs simulate the work of an anaerobic or a lactic session without literally doing the work. So when the cuffs are on, we do leg presses or hip bridges basically to exhaustion, which doesn’t take as long as you’d think. It’s fucking hard. Plus, you stimulate production of anaerobic enzymes and it supposedly offers a great aerobic benefit by just walking around.

On Friday I suffered for 8 minutes on the treadmill at 1.7 MPH and felt like I’d run a tempo. Not like I was physically stressed or breathing hard, but my legs were like lead after that. It’s definitely weird. You can feel every muscle contracting. PT said he had someone get light headed with them recently, and yeah I could see that, especially if you’re not well-trained or accustomed to the feeling of exertion. The first time they made me anxious, but I’m more relaxed about them now.

Last week I worked on extending time spent in the pool and on the bike, and finally added a couple turns of resistance to the spin bike by the end of the week. I have started making pool friends too! A pair of students comes several times a week accompanying a very old man named Pablo while he swims laps, so we occasionally spend a lap or two chatting as we tread past each other.

Here’s the workouts from last week:

  • MON: 20 min cycle w/ zero resistance, 20 min aqua jog, core + lift
  • TUES: PT, 30 min aqua jog
  • WEDS: 20 min bike w/ zero resistance, 20 min aqua jog, core
  • THUR: 30 min aqua jog
  • FRI: 30 min cycle w/ some added resistance, core, PT w/ BFR cuffs
  • SAT: Swam 40 laps at the Rec center, about 20 mins of work (it’s a short pool, don’t be too impressed)
  • SUN: Off

A new week is already kicking along, so I’ll have another update in a couple days.

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On our last (maybe so) warm and sunny day, I harvested all my remaining tomatoes and pulled up the stalks. It made me sad, and then it snowed two days later.

 

Help! I walked on my foot: what to do if an accident occurs?

I am writing this because I couldn’t find the information I was desperately hunting for on the internet. Maybe it will be helpful to someone else. Always call your doctor first in an emergency or if questions arise, but if that option is not available because it is after-hours or the weekend, as was the case for me, sit tight and try to relax. Unless it’s an actual emergency; then you might wanna get that checked out ASAP. How to differentiate is probably up to you.

Saturday morning. 16 days after surgery. I blink my eyes open just before 7:30. My cat is already eyeing me from the nightstand. When she wants breakfast she is quite the attention hog, and being that she is younger than 2 years old, she has lots of energy. I roll over to ignore her for a few more minutes. But she has other plans. On this particular morning, she chooses to get her kicks by attempting to jump into the high windows above my bed (which, I might add, are obscured by curtains and don’t even accommodate her well). She launches from my nightstand, sending a stack of books flying and knocking over a water bottle, my lamp…

Half-asleep Claire is NOT having these shenanigans today. I wrench myself awake, yelling “For fuck’s sake!” as I grab my lamp off the floor, and she goes flying out the bedroom door. I jump out of bed like a rocket, slam the door shut, and throw myself back under the covers.

It took all of 10 seconds. My adrenaline is rushing. Several minutes go by, and slowly I realize…

I don’t think I used my crutches.

I panic. I can’t remember. Do my pits feel freshly chafed? Does my shriveled calf feel strained? No, no, I think I would’ve noticed if I’d landed on my left foot — my leg has zero muscle, it would’ve collapsed — I would’ve noticed! I glance at my crutches. They have slid slightly off my nightstand, as they were right in the books’ line of fire. Doesn’t seem like I would’ve just left them there, like that, though… I do not remember using them. It happened so fast. I think I would remember fumbling to grab them and put them back again… I. Can’t. Remember.

I stayed in bed another 90 minutes crying and debating what to do. Googling anything I could Google. I called my doctor’s office, forgetting it was Saturday morning. Trying to remember. And the more I tried, the less I could recall. The details slipped out of my mind like water. I circled my ankle. Became angry. Upset. Fucking pissed off at myself for what I did. Mad at the cat. But it wasn’t her fault. Why haven’t I been locking her out at night? Why haven’t I been wrapping my foot at night? Why didn’t I give her attention? How did I not think to grab my crutches? Why didn’t I breathe for five seconds before reacting?

And that’s the truth. I didn’t even think. As the adrenaline wore off, I began to notice a faint throbbing, a dull ache. There hadn’t been any pain previously. But now, this ache, and I feel like I know in my heart what happened. I have no evidence to prove that I’m innocent.

I got up to eat. Feed the damn cat. Wrap my foot. Put ice on it. Take ibuprofen. And then I returned to my room, closed the door, and went back to sleep for hours.

* * *

The verdict is that I most likely didn’t cause anything to worry about. I spoke to an aid in my surgeon’s office right away on Monday morning who reassured me. Three or four steps isn’t enough to ruin the surgery. There was never any noticeable swelling or bruising, and the aching subsided to give way to general stiffness. Over 72 hours later, I have fully resumed all my PT and ROM work with no adverse symptoms.

Here’s the thing — accidents happen, and doctors account for that. My feeling is that if they thought it was too big a risk, they could have put me in a cast. They would do more to prevent it than simply mandating compliance. The last time I was on crutches, for a stress fracture, I landed on it a couple times due to losing balance on stairs. The same has happened once or twice this time. It’s to be expected when using crutches.

Disclaimer:

I am not a health professional. If you have an accident that you are unsure of, I would advise getting help immediately. New bruising, swelling, and pain that comes on afterwards might be a sign of trouble. If you fall and twist the joint in question, you deffff might wanna get to the ER. But those little bumps and mishaps — they are bound to happen. Be smart, don’t sweat it, and calm the eff down.