A couple of questions.
Hello all,
Things are moving along pretty well. I’m trying not to get ahead of myself, but I am moving around at home without crutches (what a relief!) and I’ve been doing gentle ROM exercises. I’m feeling happy to see/feel progress. Yesterday I was able to move around enough to tidy up a little, and last night I stood up long enough to make dinner. So happy to feel somewhat functional again, even if I am lopsided.
I have a couple of questions:
I’m heading to Vegas next weekend with some girlfriends. The trip was planned before my rupture, and though I offered to swallow the non-refundable cost of it, because I didn’t want to slow them down, they won’t hear of it. Since I won’t be out walking the strip, I figure I’ll be chilling by the pool. Here’s my question: I will be 4 weeks from surgery. The dr. was clear at 2 weeks that I was not yet to submerge my incision . . . do you think it will be OK at 4 weeks? Any other tips for travelling at this stage?
And, just out of curiosity, when did those of you with a right-achilles rupture start driving again? Norm, I bookmarked your study, but I can’t figure out from the timeline when driving will be realistic. I am so tired of relying on others to get around. I need an idea of when I might have that freedom again.
I look forward to your thoughts everyone!
Filed under Uncategorized | Comments (2)Keeping things light.
In 1997 I tore my right MCL while skiing. While healing, adhesions formed in the scar tissue and my knee became locked. I tried physiotherapy first to deal with the problem, but in the end it required arthroscopic surgery to scrape out the adhesions and unseal the joint. From injury to operation felt interminable; a long 4 months with very little progress, and I wasn’t sure what my final outcome would be. I was so miserable, cranky, and angry with everyone and everything around me. After the first month I let my friends go back to their busy lives and leave me alone. I felt guilty asking for help, especially when I was such miserable company.
The first few hours of my rupture were giving me some freaky déjà vu, but I have promised myself that I won’t fall into the same trap this time. I’m (much) older and wiser now! Yes, I’m still having some cranky and weepy moments, but I’m doing my best to pull myself out of them in a hurry. And I’m not letting anyone forget about me this time. My husband is a firefighter and often works nights. I have been asking friends to come by on those nights to help me with dinner or ordering takeout, to keep me company, to share some wine. Last night, I went out for dinner with friends. I told them that work is one especially challenging environment while I’m still on crutches; my coworkers are great people, but we work on fast deadlines (a newsroom) and they don’t often consider whether I might need something. One friend suggested I tape notices around the office, ie. on the coffee machine: “Maybe Deana would like a coffee!” and on the printer: “Are any of these pages Deana’s? Could you take them to her please?” I’m going to do it, mostly because it cracks me up.
So I’m wondering, what do you do to help you stay positive and keep you from getting too down? I need all the help I can get with this!
Filed under Uncategorized | Comments (2)Sami Salo and advice on how to shower, please.
I made one teeny, tiny reference to the NHL playoffs in my first post. Now, another one. (Sorry. It’s hard not to be excited. We love our hockey, and Vancouver hasn’t made it this far in a while.) Sami Salo is an all-star defender for our Vancouver Canucks. Last summer, he ruptured his Achilles playing ball hockey in his homeland of Finland, and he has told reporters that he thought it might end his career. He missed training camp at the end of summer of course, and then missed the first 52 games of the season recovering from his surgery.
He’s 36, and has had several big injuries that put him on the bench, but he said the Achilles rupture was the toughest, “not necessarily physically but for sure mentally.” Though he’s been taking it a bit easier since his return, yesterday — 10 months since his rupture — he had to play extra time because of an injury to another defenceman. Sami scored two huge goals in the 4-2 win over the San Jose Sharks. I can’t tell you if I am more excited that we won, or that he is making such a terrific comeback! Yes, I know he’s a super-rich hockey player, and that the team provides the best doctors and therapists available, but it still thrills me to see him doing so well.
Now, more advice please. Today is the day I am allowed to remove my air cast for the first time and wash my leg in the shower. I would love to do it here at home, but I don’t have a separate shower stall, only a soaker tub that is tricky to get in and out of. I have only showered four times since the surgery — ugh — but covering my cast has been such a hassle and I was largely unsuccessful at keeping everything dry underneath. Or, I could wait until tomorrow, when I am back at work, and use the handicap shower, which is huge, has no lip to get over, a bench that folds down from the wall and a removable shower head. Regardless, I’m wondering what you do with your bad leg while showering? In the air cast (wrapped in plastic) I just rested it on the floor. But I am guessing you have to keep it hovering above the ground when it’s not in its cast? What did you do when you first showered with a naked leg?
I’m nervous about this!
Filed under Uncategorized | Comments (9)Ready to start talking.
I’m not sure what has taken me so long to get this going. I guess I was feeling too blue the first week or so, plus I write for a living; doing it in my off-hours has become less appealing over time. But reading all of your posts has given me reassurance and hope, inspired me and answered so many of my questions. Plus, now that I’ve weaned myself off the pain medication completely, I’m enjoying a glass of wine, and I’m always more chatty with wine. I have more questions (with many more to come, I’m sure), and as far as I can tell, you lot are the best to help answer them.
I won’t spend loads of time on the ‘how.’ I think you all know it better than you’d like. I will tell you that it happened on May 4 in a dance class, and that you would have been shocked at the filthy look I shot at the girl behind me . . . while simultaneously wondering how she landed on my heel when she was five feet away. I’m 40 now, but half my lifetime ago (thanks to a hefty investment on my parents’ part) I was a well-trained and very committed — if not especially talented — ballerina. It wasn’t going to be a wildly successful career, so I moved on. I have continued to take class a few times a year when the urge strikes. I have a feeling it’s not going to strike again after this.
I don’t want you to think I’m an out-of-shape has-been trying to relive my glory years. I live in Vancouver, BC, which is probably one of the most active cities in the world. If you don’t ski or snowboard, run 10ks or half-marathons, hike the legendary Grouse Grind, mountain bike and do yoga, you might find it tough to fit in here. I do those things, so I’m not out of shape. I might have been trying to relive my glory years though. Ha! I can’t help wishing I had decided on a hot yoga class that morning instead of dance. Maybe I wouldn’t be here on the couch, for the 17th day in a row . . . Aargh. I’m trying to put the ‘what ifs’ behind me, but it isn’t always easy. I work 30 hours a week, have two boys (8 and 5), a husband that works too much, and it is my right AT that ruptured, so I can’t drive. I’m frustrated. ANYWAY, I went from the dance studio to the ER, where everyone from the triage nurse to the doctor-on-call to the surgeon did the Thompson Test, and gave me the bad news. I was still holding out hope that it would be an easy treatment of RICE for a few days and I’d be good as gold, ready for our brief but beautiful Vancouver summer and all my plans for it: paddle boarding at the beach, mountain biking in Whistler, an upcoming trip to Vegas with my best girlfriends.
No such luck, of course. Surgery took place two days later. I like my surgeon; he’s all business, but patient enough to answer my questions. I told him that I had read about all the varied treatment and PT protocols for this injury (at achillesblog.com of course!), and he agreed there are wide variations. He said his own treatment is fairly aggressive, and he knows that’s what I want. At 10 days post-surgery, he switched me from my pretty Canuck-green cast (sorry, had to throw a hockey reference in there. We’re in the playoffs!) to a tall Ossur Rebound Air Cast Walker. I don’t think it is as fancy as some of yours, but I do like how I can remove the front plate — it is somewhat more comfortable for sleeping that way, more like a splint. Unlike the rest of my treatment so far, the air cast wasn’t covered by Medicare, but I do get extended health through work, so thankfully I will be paid back for it. These things are pricey! (The cast technician did point out that it works for either foot, in case I ever need it in the future. Gee . . . thanks.)
The air cast is far more comfortable than the fiberglass cast – that one had developed a couple of sore spots inside after I got water inside it in the shower. As an aside, I have NO IDEA how anyone can keep those things dry. I triple-bagged it, and still failed. As the water started running inside the cast, I panicked and started flailing, trying to get off my little stool and out of the tub, with shampoo still in my hair. What a disaster. Fortunately, I remembered shortly after that fiasco that my office has a handicap shower, and that has been a Godsend (even if my coworkers in the newsroom do give me strange looks as I crutch on by with my shower bag dangling from my wrist). I did notice a bit of stretch in my AT the first night in the air cast (two heel wedges) but was better by the next day. Also great: the doctor told me I can put weight on it, even my full weight, with crutches, so I have worked up to that. I am trying not to overdo it. Starting Monday I am allowed to take the cast off to wash my leg, and in three weeks, I see him again, and will most likely start physio. I CAN’T WAIT.
So that’s where I’m at. I had some questions about sore spots and pressure points, but you answered them in your posts, and I am better able to address them with the air cast. I was worried about never wearing heels again, since I’m a shoe addict; but that was answered too (thanks Janet!). Now I would like to know if anyone does yoga. It was my latest passion — I was feeling stronger and fitter than I have in years, and I want to know if it’s likely to be something I can do sooner or later after recovery. There is plenty of AT stretching that goes on in a yoga class of course, and I’m curious if that would be considered a good or bad thing. Finally, my last question is about Fluoroquinolones. I had taken antibiotics in this category in the months preceding my rupture – after reading the warnings after the fact it’s hard not to wonder if there’s a connection. Especially with all the yoga I’ve done, I would have thought my tendons were long and stretchy. Anyone else wondering about that?
Whew. My first post is a doozy. If you’re still with me, thanks! I look forward to sharing input and ideas, and continuing to pick up your tips. As I think you say here: Happy Healing!
Filed under Uncategorized | Comments (12)