Remember that awesome tap dance class Jake and I were taking over the summer? Well, on my birthday, while excelling in that awesomeness, my right foot got caught on some folded cloth gaffer's tape on the flooring, and my foot stopped cold on its air travel forward. My foot folded with full weight on it. I went down. And I couldn't get up. I knew it was bad but also knew that it should have started swelling, but it didn't. We went to an urgent care center and it was decidedly broken.
The next day we went in to see an orthopedic surgeon -Dr. Rodgers. The x-ray showed that I sustained a Lisfranc injury. Since, I've had no shortage of them telling me that it's named for the man who perfected the amputation before surgery was an available option. The tarsals and metatarsals break away from each other, and it takes no small amount of effort and hardware to put it back together again. In short, my foot will never be the same. The healing process is a long one. And this is now one of my "things." And that's okay. But it doesn't mean I haven't had pockets of grieving and frustration along the way! Ahhhh, trials and growth.
So, I had to wait a few days before surgery. When I went in for surgery, it was the first time I'd stayed in the hospital where a baby didn't come home with me afterward. But I did come home with plenty of hardware in my foot and meds. We, over the entire critical healing/down and out period, had so much help from our ward family, that the gratitude and love I have for them reached a new level.
I had to keep my foot above my heart as much as possible for two weeks straight. Between the loopy meds and visiting with people who came to help take care of me and my children, I worked on Personal Progress, read, watched shows, did crossword puzzles, colors, talked on the phone to concerned family members, etc., etc.
My overwhelmed husband. Poor guy. We are quite an operation, our family, and it's a big load when one teammate is down for the count, especially for an extended period of time.
The thing about not being able to move much is that you are stuck with the entertainment in front of you. Exhibit A: Sadie's paper bag puppets with no faces.
She's a sweetie.
So I had the boot. I also had crutches for times when I just needed to go a short distance, but the knee scooter saved me, as ridiculous as I felt using it. Jake ended up putting handlebar tassels and a bell on it. May as well. I was drawing attention anyway.
Jake's mom was so good to come and spend a week with us during my two week spot on the couch, and then my dad came to stay for the first week of school so we could get adjusted to that change.
Here is Jake amused by my methods of keeping the foot up while getting ready for the day in the cast phase:
I took this picture while I was at physical therapy because of the message on the board. Physical therapy was a bright spot in a difficult situation. It was a reminder of improvement and that I wasn't alone in crappy accidents and working to move past them.