AMR Community Supporter and marathon runner Michelle San Antonio shared her decade+ running journey with a bunion. Here she details her recovery from bunion surgery in mid-January.

Day 1: Woke up in the recovery room with wires sticking out of two toes—my big toe and its hammertoe-neighbor. With 20+ stitches, protruding wires, and swaddled in bandages, my foot is immediately dubbed “Frankenfoot.” After heading home and getting help upstairs from my husband and crutches, I sleep away the rest of the day. 

Days 2 + 3: A blur of pain, fitful sleep, and an attempt to get used to the boot, which I need to wear 24/7, even while sleeping, as nothing (not even a blanket) can bump up against those aforementioned wires. Even taking painkillers as prescribed, these two days are extremely painful. The only time I get up is to use the bathroom, and I am so thankful to have crutches, because putting any weight on my foot would be impossible. 

Rest, rest, and more rest

Days 4 + 5: Thankfully, the pain lessens dramatically: By the end of Day 5, I’m fine taking just Tylenol. 

Day 7: My first trip downstairs, to celebrate my youngest’s 15th birthday (yay!). Just going up and down the stairs exhausts me, though. Recovery from surgery is no joke.  

Day 10: My first post-op visit, and my first time leaving the house! Such a treat to breathe fresh air and get a change of scenery. The bandages are changed, giving me my first good look at everything. It’s bizarre to see wires poking out of my toes, and see how clownishly swollen my foot is. Medical provider assures me this is completely normal, and all looks good.

Day 12: Boredom begins to set in. I have already read seven books; watched countless episodes of Friends, The Office, Parks & Rec, Modern Family, as well as several movies; broke out my coloring books and an old embroidery kit; and answered some work emails. Yet now that I am feeling better and not sleeping half the day, the hours are dragging. 

The pile of distractions grows

Day 15: Starting to think about all the things I miss…and cooking is actually one of them! I also realize that when you’re just laying around all day, you don’t work up much of an appetite, and I miss that post-workout feeling of craving a really tasty, nourishing, refueling type of meal.  

Day 17: Second post-op visit, where the stitches come out, and my foot is finally bandage-free—but still very much a Frankenfoot, with two sizable incision lines, significant swelling and discoloration, and of course those freaky wires. But again, all normal, and healing is progressing well. I also get the okay to move around more, but only for short periods of time. Being upright for more than half an hour results in my foot starting to ache, yet I welcome the freedom to move around the house more. 

Day 18: A non-doctor-visit outing—to the bookstore where I work. A good excuse to wear something other than sweatpants or PJs—I’ve never been so excited to wear jeans! 

Day 24: Really starting to miss working out, yet honestly, given how limited my movement is—and how my foot feels after only a half an hour of limping around—the idea of anything more is unfathomable, so I miss exercise in an abstract way. At this point, I’m just looking forward to being able to wear a normal shoe, at least another two to four weeks away. 

Back on my “feet” again, one step at a time

Day 26: A note of gratitude for my incredible family. The older two are handling most of the driving—school drop-offs and pickups for the youngest—as well as lending a hand with some cooking and doing their regular cleaning chores with fewer complaints. And my awesome husband is picking up all the other slack. 

Day 28: I’ve now read 11 books, and am currently rewatching The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. I’m fortunate my family has always been pretty vocally appreciative of everything I do, but this experience is affording them a new level of understanding of what it takes to keep this household running smoothly. Just a few days ago, my oldest hugged me and said, “I miss having you around downstairs all the time.” I assured him I miss it, too. We’re getting there, though, one lurching, boot-clad, Frankenfoot step at a time.