Praise The Lord that February is the shortest month of the year.
That pink cast was about to do me in. First let’s discuss its color:
Pink seemed like such a great ideas in the days leading up to surgery. I knew the little six year old girl in my house would love it. I knew a white cast would quickly become an unsightly shade of dirty beige. Pink seemed fun and perky.
In reality it was garish and attention-grabbing.
About a week post-op as I was already tired of seeing pink every time I looked in a full length mirror (by the way, I don’t even wear pink as a general rule due to my hair color yet I thought it would be a good color for a large piece of plaster on my leg??) I saw someone with a black cast. Why did I not think of that color? Black is the foundation of my wardrobe. Lesson learned.
The color of the cast was not the only thing bringing me down during the last four weeks… I was also literally brought down by the weight of that thing. We estimated that it weighed about ten pounds. I felt like I had a toddler on my leg anytime I had to walk somewhere.
For those of you who have been pregnant, remember those final weeks of pregnancy when you just want to be able to carry the baby in your arms as opposed to lugging it around in your womb? We all know that a held baby can be put down or at the very least passed off to someone. One cannot simply set down a pregnant belly to alleviate having to tote around the weight.
I so wanted to be able to set down that cast for a few hours to not have to cart it with me wherever I went. Unfortunately that was not an option.
Fortunately I have a husband who was willing to hold my cast in his hands sometimes as we watched television at night to give me a bit of relief.
(By the way, they should totally include such scenarios in premarital counseling.)
The color, the weight and the overall bother of the cast made last month drag on for quite the while.
Last Wednesday the day finally arrived in which I was set to bid farewell to Pinkie and return to a life in which I could wear jeans and bathe without a large plastic bag covering my leg.
An hour and a half before my appointment my local doctor’s office called and informed me they were not comfortable removing the cast (This was NOT the doctor who performed the surgery.). Cue instant hysterics from me as I blubbered on the phone with the nurse about how I had made this appointment two weeks prior, how I had talked to several people in the office regarding the cast removal and they said (at the time) they would remove it, and how they had all the paperwork from my surgeon . I am not one to cry easily but the tears were flowing as I attempted to explain that I could not live one more day in that cast.
( okay… I could have lived one more day. But by that point in the conversation I had passed into crazy lady land.)
As one does in any crisis these days, I quickly turned to my iPhone for help. I was just about to put a cry out on Facebook for any friends with cast removing skills (or at the very least a working chainsaw) when I thought of a dear professional friend who may be of assistance in removing Pinkie.
Fast forward one hour and I found myself in a procedure room having the cast removed and paying for this removal via expensive chocolate bars.
(Details remain vague to protect all those wonderful people who helped get my cast off in time of need.)
The following day the children and I faced the task of removing my stitches. Again I relied on the wonders of technology as I Facetimed with my parents so they could walk us through the process. The incision is quite long and there was an issue of scabbing. Being the intelligent person that I am, I opted for us to try this little science experiment right after lunch. Isaac held the iPad while repeatedly saying “My stomach feels weird.”, Evelyn hid under a blanket and I weakly removed sterri-strips, a scab, and stitches.
Obviously we will not be opening a traveling family medical clinic anytime soon.
(Notice we did this while the husband was at work. He has so many talents…dealing with medical procedures such as stitch removal is not one of them.)
The cast is gone.
The road to recovery is long. I healed so quickly last time, pushing my body to bounce back and relearn walking patterns. Currently my ankle is sore and stiff. My foot and leg swell quickly (I will spare you the pics but we now refer to my left leg as elephant leg.). I still walk slowly and with a limp.
This is part of my wardrobe for awhile
…which may have caused me to have a few cryfests lately about the fact that I have exactly two pairs of shoes to choose from at the moment.
Both are tennis shoes.
If you know me, you know I typically only wear tennis shoes when at the gym.
All trivial issues, I know. I will recover. I will resume an active lifestyle.
And I will figure out a way to fit that brace into cute shoes.
At the very least I will bedazzle it.
Onward and upward, dear readers.
Even if one small hobble step at a time.