I realize I’m nervous for my June 11 appointment with my orthopedic surgeon when I find myself biting off nearly all my fingernails the afternoon before. Both thumbs, left pinky, ring finger, middle finger. A Valium helps me sleep that night, but the next morning, after Jack drops me off and I clomp on my iWalk to the doctor’s office by myself, my heart is racing as fast as my brain. “What if…” scenarios are doing 4-minute miles in my head:
What if the healing isn’t happening as fast as I hope?
What if the doctor keeps me in the cast longer?
What if I get a boot…but it’s non-weight-bearing?
To calm down, I start needlepointing. Occupy the hands, not the brain, I tell myself. Still feeling jangly, I look around the otherwise-deserted waiting room…and cue up Peter Gabriel on my iPhone. The soothing tones of “Down to Earth” ratchet down my anxiety a notch or two, but I continue playing music as a tech cuts off the cast and takes X-rays. I switch to John Mayer, and he eases my nerves a bit, but waiting alone in an exam room for the results, I kick the music into high gear. On comes “Boston, baby!,” my playlist from 2012 Boston Marathon. I listen to Gotye’s “In Your Light” while visualizing memories from that 26.2.
Paula, a physician assistant with a bright smile, enters the room, and we talk needlepointing for a bit. Then we turn our attention from my koi-pond canvas to the ankle X-rays. Beaming, Paula says everything is healing really well, pointing out how well aligned the breaks were healing–no jagged, bony bits sticking out. (My words, not hers.) When she gets to an image showcasing the biggest remaining fracture, it appears to me like a gaping chasm between the two pieces of bone, but Paula blithely says, “And that’ll fill in nicely with new bone growth,” as confidently as I’d say my 9-year-old twins would be rowdy when they get out of school that afternoon.
Paula tells me she expects the doctor to put me in a non-weight-bearing boot, and my face falls. She immediately asks what’s wrong, and I croak out, “I really, really want a weigh-bearing boot.” Her tone a trifle less cheerful, Paula says the final decision is up to the doctor.
As if on cue, in walks Dr. B. The slender, charcoal-haired surgeon knows how much running means to me and how ardently I want to be active again. After a quick perusal of the X-rays, Dr. B. casually announces, “Let’s get you in a weight-bearing boot.”
My reaction is immediate and visceral: I burst into tears.
With tears springing from my scrunched-shut eyes, I hear Paula explain to the obviously confused doctor, “That’s the news she wanted…. No, no, don’t worry: Those are happy tears.” I continue crying but try to pull myself together. When I finally open my eyes, a befuddled Dr. B. sits close to me, proffering me a box of tissues. I assure him he’s given me the scenario I’d been (nervously!) daydreaming about; I thank him profusely.
As I wipe away my tears, Dr. B. gives me the lay of the land for the next few weeks. Several times a day, I’m to gently flex my ankle/foot forward and back, using a towel or strap to help as it loosens up a bit. In two weeks, he’ll see me again and if all continues to look good, he’ll give me the all-clear to see a talented physical therapist whose office is less than a half-mile from our house. He assures me, “We’ll get you back to exercise, probably starting with pool walking.” I don’t dare inquire about running, but he doesn’t look dismissive when I ask about barre class and riding a stationary bike in mid-July.
I make my way don the hall to get fitted for the weight-bearing boot solo: I don’t need to be accompanied by Peter Gabriel, John Mayer, or Gotye.
Post-script: Back home, ready to work, and in the boot, I gaze out French doors in front of my desk toward the blooming lavender in our neighbor’s yard. I marvel at the abundance of almost-ripe plums on a tree shading our driveway. As I let the progress of my ankle recovery settle in, I am left with one pure belief that I tweet:
“Prayers & positive vibes from Another #MotherRunner tribe worked: cast off; weight-bearing boot. Best possible outcome for today. THANK YOU!”
It bears repeating in stereo: THANK YOU all for your continued support, love, and advice. I treasure it all.
Yay! Good news! Also, I needed to say that your legs look DAMN good in that last picture! You go, Mother Runner!
Great news! I agree with Becky C. – nice legs!
You got this!!! <3
It’s Physican Assistant.
Happy healing
Thank you, Sarah. I made the edit. Good to know, as one of my mothers-in-law is a PA.
Yay! So take your calcium and vitamin d and eat plenty of ice cream to support new bone growth! :)
Did someone say, “ice cream”???? :-)
YAY!! So happy for you! You look GREAT in that last picture! Thank you for sharing all of life’s ups and downs with us!
Thank you for “listening” to my ups and downs. It feels really good to know I’m not alone in this journey.
Yay!! So happy you are walking!! Before you know it, you’ll be training for Boston with everyone cheering and following you along:)
Thank you, Paria: Your words made my spirit soar, thinking about the training-for-Boston scenario.
Congratulations!!! Now you are at mile 20 of the marathon…you can sense the finish line!
Oooh, hoo, Katy: I like your optimism and outlook!
Yay! We are all rooting for you!
It truly means the world to me, Theresa. Thank you.
Good News SBS! You keep on healing, we will keep on sending the positive vines. You will be out of the boot and back in the right Saucony before you know it!
Your “right Saucony” comment cracked me up, Jackie! The right Guide looked forlorn when I only grabbed the left one…
I got tears in my eyes when I read that you’re in a weight bearing boot. SO happy for you and sending continued positive thoughts. :)
I really appreciate the continued support and empathy, Kate. xo
I just loved reading this. You take such good care of yourself! The needlepoint to distract the mind, the music cued up, the memories of Boston. Love reliving the moment with you. Tweets and status updates are great, but I like all the sweet details in the story. Congrats on the healing, SBS!
Thank you, Lisa: Your change-finding tweets have brightened my days.
YAY! Yay yay yay!!!!!
Congrats Sarah! That is huge progress and great news!
I broke my elbow two years ago…. I am absolutely aware that an ankle and an elbow are very different, but I wanted to offer that it really didn’t start to feel any better until I started using it and moving it. I’m glad you are in that weight bearing boot and able to move things around a bit. I think that means good healing is taking place!
My running partner is a veterinarian (sp?) so it made a big impact on me when she said it’s not until I put some weight on my leg that the true healing begins. Makes me feel I’m doing something positive when I clomp around or stand at kitchen counter.
I noticed your gams too! (Insert cat-call whistle here). Speedy healing to you.
Thanks for the compliment–and the wishes of speedy healing. I appreciate both.
Thank you all for your comments and support. (And I’ll take the cat-call, Gina–thank you!!)
So happy for your forward progress Sarah. My friend, Sarah, and I were part of a team that completed Chicago Ragnar last weekend. Early yesterday, sitting in my sunroom, I look out the window and see a woman with last year’s Ragnar shirt walking in the street. I look closer and discover it Sarah, but why is she walking and not running? She’s limping because she fell, skinned her knee and her ankle is pretty swollen. I drive her home, she goes to the doctor and learns she has a sprain. No running for 2-4 weeks. I’m sharing this post with her. Continue to heal SBS
nice game