While the die may be cast, the cast is at long last gone. My foot now is exposed to the light of day, the sweet goodness of the morning air and a couple of draining bandages. Oh yes, those two gashes on the side and heel of my foot are still large and in charge and demanding attention be paid. At least now when either of them bark at me I can see (sort of ) what is causing the problem. As well, I get the unique opportunity to have a nurse visit me at home to change the bandages. Who knew anyone still made house calls?
Perhaps unrealistically I went to this appointment thinking the cast would came off, I'd just hop off the table and simply walk away. As I was quick to find out I was dreaming the impossible dream. The cast came off with no problem, the drain bandages in the gashes were still there and working, a whole lot of dead scaly skin was everywhere, the tan line on my leg was very noticeable (ah sunshine you did your job), but still I thought life was good. Dr. Knee replaced the drains, shaved off some of the dead skin, and wrapped my foot in an ace bandage. Then she said "Okay, stand up".
I want you to imagine the worst sprained ankle you ever had. The absolute worst, the one you thought for sure must have been broken with the bone sticking out. Remember how you felt when you stood on it and the pain seared through your entire body, like an electrical jolt to your central nervous system?
Now multiply that by a factor of one hundred. That's what I felt.
My knees almost buckled. I reached back for the stability of the exam table. Surely, I thought, the bones in my foot haven't knitted together properly. The muscles in my lower leg have atrophied and will never return. I am going to be walking with some kind of aid the rest of my life. As all of this is skidding through my brain I had to listen to this from both Dr. Knee and my wife:
"I can't believe how good that looks. Look at how you're standing, it's night and day from before"
Were they saying that just to make me feel better? Were they saying this sarcastically? The expressions on their faces indicated they were genuine in their platitudes. I just couldn't believe it. Looking down at my feet though I saw both sitting properly on the floor. Maybe there was something to their exhortations.
Dr. Knee asked me to walk. With the pain I was feeling I didn't think I could, but actually walking from one end of the small exam room to the other made my foot feel better. The muscles I was certain had atrophied jumped back to life as I limped along. Being conscience to keep my left foot flat on the floor as I walked, I thought I was doing pretty good. Dr. Knee informed me though that I was "leading with my hip" and not "allowing your foot to naturally fall from back to front".
In other words I was doing all the things I had done in order to walk before the surgery. I was going to have to learn to walk all over again. She gave me a referral slip to the guys we kiddingly called Hans and Franz back at my first post-op visit. They will twist and turn my foot and yell and tsk at me as I attempt to relearn the art of mobility. It's been 55 years since I've had to learn how to walk. Something tells me this isn't going to be as easy as the first time.
GROSS PICTURE WARNING: Just to give you an idea of what my foot looks like at this moment:
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