“It’s a 60/40 percent doctor-patient deal how well you will recover.” As he applied the denim-blue plasticized cast the technician related some of his own experience with a bad ankle fracture: “It’s not enough to sit with the foot raised. You need to spend most of your time in bed with your leg above the level of your heart.” Then he explained that there were two types of pain. Throbbing pain (from increased swelling) meant a trip to the E.R. to cut the cast. I had received written instructions from hospital, P.T. and nurse clinician and read through them all. Nevertheless, it was the look in the cast-technician’s eye which kept me, bored stiff in bed, when I was dying to catch up on all my accumulating e-mails or surf addictive games for hours.
Then it came time for an x-ray and cast change. The pain and swelling had decreased a lot, but instead of praise for my weeks of forced bed rest, I was told to start exercising and weight-bearing “even though it hurt.” The joint could stiffen up permanently if I “babied” it, my wise friend in the cast room informed me. I wondered how he knew what I was thinking; his long look said he knew what he was talking about. I now had a “boot” of rigid plastic with velcro fastenings. I began Home Physical Therapy with an agency but the pain was bad enough to keep me awake (even with OTC pain med, and a sleep assist) on the two days a week she came. I decided to “let up” on the exercise regimen and weight-bearing every other day, and caught up on sleep that way.
Once I was getting out more, to church, a restaurant, and my son’s graduation, the “plastic boot” on my left ankle started attracting attention. Two women came up to me and shared their experiences with “the boot” and similar severe ankle fractures in middle age. One told me her injury was so bad there was talk of amputation at one time. She described doing daily exercises, as though sketching each of the twenty-six letters of the alphabet in the air with her toes. I noticed she walked normally in regular shoes without a brace or assistive device. She demonstrated complete range of motion in the affected ankle.
People willing to share difficult victories like these have a tremendous affect on the motivation and positive attitude of someone like me: still in the throes of an acute injury. Even though I knew it was “just an ankle,” I could see myself going through the classic grief stages, especially immediately after surgery: I am diabetic, and have seen “worst possible scenario” in diabetics with major foot wounds. The first time the dressings were removed, I had a jolting deja vu of falling on ice and hearing my bones “cra-a-ck!” I also had an acute fear of falling at first, e.g. during a car/wheelchair transfer. I had difficulty trusting myself in the hands of family as they tried to help. Not to say that I didn’t express all my gratitude for their efforts to help, but I also had to make quite a few apologies for snapping at them.
I have moved from using a wheelchair, non-weight-bearing, to a wheelchair and walker, with more and more weight-bearing, to trying crutches which a friend loaned me. At this time I am able to climb the stairs one at a time, holding the banister in one hand and both crutches in the other. I am able to trace the letters of the alphabet in the air with my toes every day without much discomfort; on a really good day I trace them all upside down and backwards as well! My sons were surprised to see me walking so much when I spent graduation day with them. Soon I will try driving a short distance careful to take my cell phone: (perhaps a drive-in restaurant on the corner, when my husband is home by the phone ...?)
