I must be better -- I jaywalked today. Crossed the street on red, then made a right turn, going across the second street before I even reached the sidewalk. Pain in the ankle is pretty much gone. Now it hurts on the top of the foot, above the toes. This pain I can tolerate. When I had ankle sprains or blisters in the past, I'd limp for a while, then the limping would start affecting my other leg and back and I'd get mad and stop limping, forcing myself to walk through pain. This inevitably led to fairly rapid improvement. Optimistically, I think I am at that point now. I can walk tolerably through this pain on top of the foot. It affects my gait, but not so much. I'm getting better.
I saw Dr. Jake last week, the rendezvous preceded by another x-ray. This one was different, taken standing up for the first time. All looks well. I finally had a good look at my third, unscrewed fracture in the back of the joint. Contrary to what I'd thought, this one is not behind my Achilles tendon, but in the back of the outside ankle bone. So, in fact, I broke that bone in two places: back and outside. The outside was fixed. The one in the back is still there. The bone did not break off, but splintered and it looks somewhat like a narrow "Y." Dr. Jake said it'll take some time before bone fills in that gap. I hope it does before I see him again -- in October.
On Saturday, I did a decent outdoor ride -- Redwood-Pinehurst, a hilly 25 miler. Three months ago, this was a warm up. On Saturday, it was plenty. I was pleased with how the ride went. I had good energy and adequate legs, considering I hadn't done a ride of that distance since March. In the afternoon, I required a two-hour nap, however, so it appears I'm some time away from even a metric century, never mind an English double. Small steps. I'll get there eventually.
.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Rehab VIII: Walking and Wheeling
I had a jogging dream the other night. In it, was walking along, then I thought, "how would jogging feel?" So, I tried it, very lightly. A gentle jog, just prancing, focusing on the form, not on speed. It felt fine, just right. Then I woke up and remembered that I wasn't quite there yet. After lunch with Howie, as I told him about the dream, I tried jogging. The attempt lasted one painful step. You can fake walking -- limping, compensating, leaning, reducing the load on the bad foot. You can't fake running -- too much weight coming down on each foot. With each running step, because of the momentum and the fact that we come down from a height, there is more impact on the foot. It'll be a while before I try running again.
On good news front, I took my first outdoor ride yesterday. As much as I've struggled in VeloSF classes, I had very low expectations, hoping I wouldn't struggle too much on the five-mile climb up Tunnel-Skyline (OK, there's about one-third of a mile that's flat). It went as well as I could have expected. I tried to spin, shifting down when grade increased, focusing on keeping my cadence up because I wasn't confident about standing up to pedal -- it felt awkward and hurt a little. Spinning didn't hurt a bit. I rode at a decent clip without overexerting myself, chasing riders I could see up the road.
I met Howie at the top of the hill and we rode along Skyline, freezing, under-dressed for this foggy, windy, mid-50s afternoon. We descended Joaquin Miller and stopped for coffee in Montclair. Fifteen miles and the foot felt good during the ride, though it swelled quite a bit after I took off the compression sock. Wayne said it would keep swelling for six months, as blood vessels repair themselves from the initial injury and the surgery, so this was not surprising. I am very encouraged.
.
On good news front, I took my first outdoor ride yesterday. As much as I've struggled in VeloSF classes, I had very low expectations, hoping I wouldn't struggle too much on the five-mile climb up Tunnel-Skyline (OK, there's about one-third of a mile that's flat). It went as well as I could have expected. I tried to spin, shifting down when grade increased, focusing on keeping my cadence up because I wasn't confident about standing up to pedal -- it felt awkward and hurt a little. Spinning didn't hurt a bit. I rode at a decent clip without overexerting myself, chasing riders I could see up the road.
I met Howie at the top of the hill and we rode along Skyline, freezing, under-dressed for this foggy, windy, mid-50s afternoon. We descended Joaquin Miller and stopped for coffee in Montclair. Fifteen miles and the foot felt good during the ride, though it swelled quite a bit after I took off the compression sock. Wayne said it would keep swelling for six months, as blood vessels repair themselves from the initial injury and the surgery, so this was not surprising. I am very encouraged.
.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Rehab VII: Tilting at Sidewalks
The second day of one-crutching around went as well as the first, and I learned something. Sidewalks in San Francisco's financial district slope from buildings toward the streets. The slope makes me pronate or suponate, depending on the direction I am walking. Pronating (foot rolling inward), which my feet do naturally, hurts. Suponating (foot rolling outward) doesn't. Now I walk on the right side of every street, suponating as much as the sidewalks allow.
Does your city have sloping sidewalks?
Living up to the blog's title, I will report that today I did a mellow and happy hour at VeloSF.
And one more thing, it's uncanny how my body reacts to things Wayne recommends. He says use one crutch and roll the foot, "It's easier to get rid or a crutch than a bad habit." I use one crutch and roll the foot almost comfortably. The foot hurts while he manipulates it and I tell him, so he presses another part of the foot or lower leg and the pain wanes. He tapes my arch with Leukotape and the foot hurts less. He gives me a compression sock, I put it on in the morning, and the foot feels better immediately. How does he know? He knows. I guess that's why he has four diplomas on his wall.
.
Does your city have sloping sidewalks?
Living up to the blog's title, I will report that today I did a mellow and happy hour at VeloSF.
And one more thing, it's uncanny how my body reacts to things Wayne recommends. He says use one crutch and roll the foot, "It's easier to get rid or a crutch than a bad habit." I use one crutch and roll the foot almost comfortably. The foot hurts while he manipulates it and I tell him, so he presses another part of the foot or lower leg and the pain wanes. He tapes my arch with Leukotape and the foot hurts less. He gives me a compression sock, I put it on in the morning, and the foot feels better immediately. How does he know? He knows. I guess that's why he has four diplomas on his wall.
.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Rehab VI: Locomotions
During my first crutch-less week, walking wasn't getting noticeably better. I was limping to protect the foot, anticipating pain with every foot fall. It hurt in the same places: across the top of the joint and below the outside ankle bone. So, today Wayne said, "use a cane." I tried a cane in his office and didn't like it -- too unstable. So, Wayne said, "use a crutch." The theory is the crutch will protect the foot by letting me take weight off of it when necessary, but also allowing me to roll from heel to toe, strengthening the calf and muscles of the foot. I went back to a crutch. It was much better. Putting theory to practice, the foot hurt less and I really rolled from heel to toe. That Wayne, he knows what he's talking about.
Last Sunday, I switched cars with my parents, going back to my Mazda 6 with a standard transmission after driving my mom's automatic Civic for six weeks. I've always known that my Mazda's clutch is tight. Driving around it's not a problem. Where it is problematic is while starting the car. The pedal feels as if it tightens progressively. The farther I press, the tighter it gets. The farther I press, the more it hurts. The pedal wants to be pressed all the way to the floor before the car agrees to start. Since I only have to do that once per trip it's not a big deal, but I have to brace myself for the upcoming stab in the foot every time I turn the key. Shifting requires about 2/3 of pedal travel it needs for starting, so it's painless. But as I sat in uphill traffic for 15 minutes in downtown San Francisco on the way home today, shifting from first to second, back to neutral, and again to first was annoying, making me pine for the Civic. My driving desires are starting to show their age; or my age?
Today, I went to VeloSF for the second time since the injury. Did 50 easy minutes with a minute of one-broken-legged pedaling every five minutes. One-legged went pretty well, I pedaled pretty smoothly and circularly. I ventured briefly into low Zone 2 (165 watts) to see how that would feel. Two months ago that barely caused me to break a sweat. Today, I broke a sweat and was almost out of breath. In March that didn't happen until I got into mid Zone 3 (~220 watts). Deconditioning, thy name is trimalleolar fracture. But I am glad to be back on the bike and glad to be able to do 50 minutes. Will try to replicate the effort tomorrow.
No boating, horseback riding, or skating (god forbid) tales to tell, just the above three ways of getting around.
.
Last Sunday, I switched cars with my parents, going back to my Mazda 6 with a standard transmission after driving my mom's automatic Civic for six weeks. I've always known that my Mazda's clutch is tight. Driving around it's not a problem. Where it is problematic is while starting the car. The pedal feels as if it tightens progressively. The farther I press, the tighter it gets. The farther I press, the more it hurts. The pedal wants to be pressed all the way to the floor before the car agrees to start. Since I only have to do that once per trip it's not a big deal, but I have to brace myself for the upcoming stab in the foot every time I turn the key. Shifting requires about 2/3 of pedal travel it needs for starting, so it's painless. But as I sat in uphill traffic for 15 minutes in downtown San Francisco on the way home today, shifting from first to second, back to neutral, and again to first was annoying, making me pine for the Civic. My driving desires are starting to show their age; or my age?
Today, I went to VeloSF for the second time since the injury. Did 50 easy minutes with a minute of one-broken-legged pedaling every five minutes. One-legged went pretty well, I pedaled pretty smoothly and circularly. I ventured briefly into low Zone 2 (165 watts) to see how that would feel. Two months ago that barely caused me to break a sweat. Today, I broke a sweat and was almost out of breath. In March that didn't happen until I got into mid Zone 3 (~220 watts). Deconditioning, thy name is trimalleolar fracture. But I am glad to be back on the bike and glad to be able to do 50 minutes. Will try to replicate the effort tomorrow.
No boating, horseback riding, or skating (god forbid) tales to tell, just the above three ways of getting around.
.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Rehab V: Pedestrian and Cycling Musings
Back to on-topic matters.
You know how when a good thing happens you think that it will happen again and again and become the norm. With my rehab I have a good day and think the next day would be just as good, maybe better. Alas, not necessarily. A good day often means: "Oooh, the foot feels good, let's try more and new things on it." Inevitably, this results in overdoing and more pain the next day than the day before. Though the day after is better still. The foot is improving, but it's not straight-line improvement, more of a jagged line with a general upward trend. Sort of like Dow Jones average in a bullish market.
I tried wind trainer twice over the weekend, then did not get on the bike for the next three days because things have been busy at work. Yesterday, I finally managed to go to VeloSF for a class, my first class in eight weeks and two days.
People there are like a family; you don't get that in other gyms. We know each others' names and we bond because we suffer together. So, Dave and Jeff and Danielle and others were glad to see me and asked how the ankle was. It was a tough 90-minute class with some Zone 4 and 5 riding. I was not going to ride in Zones 4 and 5. I was firmly entrenched in Zone 1 and I stayed there for 45 minutes. After a 15-minute warm-up, every five minutes, I unclipped my right foot and rode one-footed for a minute to build up my weak side. After four or five of those the foot started hurting, so I stopped. Rode for another 10 minutes, then decided 45 minutes was enough for a first time in two months and two days. I climbed off happy that I managed 45 minutes and that the 45 minutes felt pretty good.
Walking is funny. When healthy, I am a very fast walker. I daresay, I am the fastest walker on the sidewalk. Seriously. I am competitive when I walk the streets. By no means am I as fast as race walkers, the best of whom can do 6:30 miles for 30 miles, but among people walking to work and around town, I am the fastest. But not now. It hurts to walk fast. It used to hurt on the outside, under the ankle bone -- stabs and jolts. Thanks to my PT-ist Wayne, that pain is gone. Now I have duller, but still significant pain across the top of the ankle, where it flexes, in the place where the shin become the foot. If I try to walk fast, the foot flexes often and it hurts more often. As the doctor in the well-known joke says, "don't do that." So, I don't do that, at least not often, and, as a result, I walk slowly. I am the slowest walker on the sidewalk. Pedestrians zoom past me walking at a pedestrian pace. I am a sub-pedestrian. Instead of trying to scurry across the intersection as the light timer counts down the seconds before it will change to "DON'T WALK STUPID!" I look at the time, calculating how long it would take me to reach the street and slow down instead of speeding up. Slowing down has an additional benefit of allowing me to focus on my technique -- rolling the foot from heel to toe rather than dragging it along in balletic First Position, which I do when I am in a rush. (First Position walking minimizes flex and pain, but is a bad habit.) I stand there, waiting with patience of a philosopher, for the light to change with no cars in sight, while everyone else jaywalks. Then the light changes and I start across, hoping to make it to the other side before the light goes back to red, treading the thin line between speed and pain.
I reach my car, get inside and suddenly feel completely whole -- I am moving painlessly -- forgetting about my injury. Then I park and realize that I will have to stand up and walk and remember...
.
You know how when a good thing happens you think that it will happen again and again and become the norm. With my rehab I have a good day and think the next day would be just as good, maybe better. Alas, not necessarily. A good day often means: "Oooh, the foot feels good, let's try more and new things on it." Inevitably, this results in overdoing and more pain the next day than the day before. Though the day after is better still. The foot is improving, but it's not straight-line improvement, more of a jagged line with a general upward trend. Sort of like Dow Jones average in a bullish market.
I tried wind trainer twice over the weekend, then did not get on the bike for the next three days because things have been busy at work. Yesterday, I finally managed to go to VeloSF for a class, my first class in eight weeks and two days.
People there are like a family; you don't get that in other gyms. We know each others' names and we bond because we suffer together. So, Dave and Jeff and Danielle and others were glad to see me and asked how the ankle was. It was a tough 90-minute class with some Zone 4 and 5 riding. I was not going to ride in Zones 4 and 5. I was firmly entrenched in Zone 1 and I stayed there for 45 minutes. After a 15-minute warm-up, every five minutes, I unclipped my right foot and rode one-footed for a minute to build up my weak side. After four or five of those the foot started hurting, so I stopped. Rode for another 10 minutes, then decided 45 minutes was enough for a first time in two months and two days. I climbed off happy that I managed 45 minutes and that the 45 minutes felt pretty good.
Walking is funny. When healthy, I am a very fast walker. I daresay, I am the fastest walker on the sidewalk. Seriously. I am competitive when I walk the streets. By no means am I as fast as race walkers, the best of whom can do 6:30 miles for 30 miles, but among people walking to work and around town, I am the fastest. But not now. It hurts to walk fast. It used to hurt on the outside, under the ankle bone -- stabs and jolts. Thanks to my PT-ist Wayne, that pain is gone. Now I have duller, but still significant pain across the top of the ankle, where it flexes, in the place where the shin become the foot. If I try to walk fast, the foot flexes often and it hurts more often. As the doctor in the well-known joke says, "don't do that." So, I don't do that, at least not often, and, as a result, I walk slowly. I am the slowest walker on the sidewalk. Pedestrians zoom past me walking at a pedestrian pace. I am a sub-pedestrian. Instead of trying to scurry across the intersection as the light timer counts down the seconds before it will change to "DON'T WALK STUPID!" I look at the time, calculating how long it would take me to reach the street and slow down instead of speeding up. Slowing down has an additional benefit of allowing me to focus on my technique -- rolling the foot from heel to toe rather than dragging it along in balletic First Position, which I do when I am in a rush. (First Position walking minimizes flex and pain, but is a bad habit.) I stand there, waiting with patience of a philosopher, for the light to change with no cars in sight, while everyone else jaywalks. Then the light changes and I start across, hoping to make it to the other side before the light goes back to red, treading the thin line between speed and pain.
I reach my car, get inside and suddenly feel completely whole -- I am moving painlessly -- forgetting about my injury. Then I park and realize that I will have to stand up and walk and remember...
.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Rehab IV: Giddyup!
So, that was Thursday and Friday. Today, Saturday, I decided to be careful. And it's easy to be careful in the morning. The foot is usually stiff and achy and I'm not completely awake. I came down the three stairs from the bedroom to the living room with a crutch and settled in. We had a breakfast at a cafe and I continued getting around with a crutch, but the foot felt good. When we got home I started getting around without a crutch. It was awkward and kind of ugly. Later, someone told me I could play Frankenstein with that walk, but I was taking full steps with my right foot, rather than abortive half-steps that bolts and jolts of pain required just three days earlier. This was a major breakthrough. So, I continued walking without a crutch. All day. I even managed to walk down stairs almost like a normal person. Oh, the foot swelled quite a bit. By the evening it was aching and I was tired from the new activity, but how pleased I was, I cannot describe. It was a day of breakthroughs.
There was one more breakthrough. During my PT visit, Wayne had told me to get on a stationary bike to increase the range of motion. Now, not in another week. Well, OK! I hadn't had the time to do it on Thursday and on Friday my foot just didn't feel well enough to attempt a ride, but today... I set up my bike on the trainer and changed into shorts. I could barely get my left foot into the cycling shoe. Once it went in, it felt good. I gingerly climbed on the bike. I had no idea how clipping in and out would feel, but it didn't feel. It was absolutely painless in and out. Riding was a bit odd, though. I tried to pedal smoothly, yet leg strength imbalance was such that after 15 minutes my circles turned to squares. Because of the two compression socks and the still-swollen ankle, my foot rubbed against the crank arm, but I didn't mind -- I was on the bike again! And it felt great and so familiar and emotional. I stayed on for 25 minutes. By then the foot had had enough. It was a great start. More riding tomorrow, assuming the foot feels OK after such an active day. Velo SF, I'm back, baby! I'm back!
.
There was one more breakthrough. During my PT visit, Wayne had told me to get on a stationary bike to increase the range of motion. Now, not in another week. Well, OK! I hadn't had the time to do it on Thursday and on Friday my foot just didn't feel well enough to attempt a ride, but today... I set up my bike on the trainer and changed into shorts. I could barely get my left foot into the cycling shoe. Once it went in, it felt good. I gingerly climbed on the bike. I had no idea how clipping in and out would feel, but it didn't feel. It was absolutely painless in and out. Riding was a bit odd, though. I tried to pedal smoothly, yet leg strength imbalance was such that after 15 minutes my circles turned to squares. Because of the two compression socks and the still-swollen ankle, my foot rubbed against the crank arm, but I didn't mind -- I was on the bike again! And it felt great and so familiar and emotional. I stayed on for 25 minutes. By then the foot had had enough. It was a great start. More riding tomorrow, assuming the foot feels OK after such an active day. Velo SF, I'm back, baby! I'm back!
.
Rehab III: PT1
The first week of weight on the foot was rough. As I described in the last post, my foot was acting criminally, shooting and stabbing, mostly below the outside ankle bone. Advil helped significantly, but my home supply ran out and there never seemed to be a convenient drug store or I didn't remember to pick up a bottle, and with a new job (oh, yes, I started a new job this week!), I just did not have proper pharmaceuticals to ease the pain. Day after, I hobbled with a crutch in my right arm pit, listing precariously to the right to ease the weight and the pain on the left foot, my lean exaggerated by the two-inch thick sole in my medical boot. On and on this went without improvement and I looked forward to my first physical therapy appointment on May 18.
The appointment was with Wayne Diamond, whom I've known since his kids were to pre-school with Sophie. He treated Jessica successfully for back and hip problems and I requested him specifically when the time came to make an appointment. On the morning of the appointment, I took the last dose of Advil in the house, put on two tennis shoes, leaving the Big Black Boot at home, and headed to Kaiser. After I waited for a brief period, Wayne came out and motioned me in. I hobbled in on one crutch, noticing that Advil was working. As we entered a long hallway, Wayne said: "Let me see you walk." I tried walking and I wasn't bad at it. Wayne was mildly impressed, but he also told me not to try so hard, as it was obvious I was hurting. We came into the examining room and talked for quite a while about what hurt and where and what caused the pain. I lay on the table and he started manipulating. I was nervous: my range of motion was limited and, though I tried working on it, I expected a return to the Woyld of Hoyt. But no. Wayne bent my foot in directions I couldn't imagine it would be willing to move, yet it followed obediently and willingly. There was a minor jolt of pain in the usual spot once, but that was the only time during the several minutes of work.
Wayne was pleased. He thought the foot moved well and was encouraged by the absence of pain. He gave me a exercises to do five times a day: seated calf raises for strength and child pose to increase for range of motion. With passage of time, I'm to add resistance to calf raises by pressing down on my knee with both hands. He told me to increase my daily water intake by one glass to help healing. In theory this is great, but is difficult to implement in practice. Walking to the water cooler involves walking and hurts. Drinking more involves walking to the bathroom and hurts, so it's hard to motivate myself to drink more, but I'll have to. Wayne also gave a compression sock to wear all day and told me to ice the ankle every evening. Since I arrived wearing compression socks, I left his office wearing three of them.
I went to work and as I sat at my desk I did calf raises. My desk has a center drawer and my knees nearly touch it when I sit, so I did two or three sets of resisted calf raises, pushing up with my knee against the bottom of he drawer. Which is dusty, as I discovered when I saw a brown line on my pant leg, above the left knee. The calf raises felt pretty good, though toward the end of each set my leg would begin to shake -- a reminder of its weakness and the work that lay ahead. Nonetheless, I felt encouraged.
I arrived at home after work and, with a crutch in my arm pit, began climbing stairs up to the house. For some bizarre reason, I stepped up with the left foot. I cringed as soon as I realized what I'd done, expecting a bolt of pain, but it didn't come. I stopped, flabbergasted. It didn't hurt. I processed that. Then, I took another step up with the left foot and that felt OK. It ached, but nothing worse than level 3. Thrilled, I walked up the stairs like an uninjured person, alternating feet, and carrying the crutch in my right hand. At the top of the stairs, I took a normal step and that didn't feel so good. On flat ground, the foot has to flex. On the stairs, a peg leg suffices. And a peg leg is what I had. But hey, a functioning peg leg on which I can climb stairs is a dramatic improvement over what I'd had for the week since I started putting weight on my foot and I couldn't be more excited about the improvement.
Wayne had written me an e-mail, summarizing what we'd discussed, explaining the exercise regimen, and cautioning that the next day would be painful because of all the manipulation the foot had undergone. I responded excitedly with a description of my ascent. "Wayne Diamond," I thought, "you are brilliant!" A thrilled text message went to Jessica. Ten minutes later, it was time to pick Sophie from school. I tried walking down stairs and that was not happening. Stepping down with the left foot produced unwelcome level 6-7 pain and I decided not to push it. After returning home with Sophie, I demonstrated my recovered skill to her and she was as excited as I.
Wayne was right about one other thing, the next day was a bear. I had such a hard time that I decided that it would be a two-crutch day. I had to go to court first thing in the morning and it was 10:30 by the time I arrived at the office. I helped myself to the office supply of Advil and settled in. I kept my foot elevated as much as possible and used crutches. As the day wore on, I felt better, but I remained cautious. As with everything else, this would not be a linear progression toward improvement.
.
The appointment was with Wayne Diamond, whom I've known since his kids were to pre-school with Sophie. He treated Jessica successfully for back and hip problems and I requested him specifically when the time came to make an appointment. On the morning of the appointment, I took the last dose of Advil in the house, put on two tennis shoes, leaving the Big Black Boot at home, and headed to Kaiser. After I waited for a brief period, Wayne came out and motioned me in. I hobbled in on one crutch, noticing that Advil was working. As we entered a long hallway, Wayne said: "Let me see you walk." I tried walking and I wasn't bad at it. Wayne was mildly impressed, but he also told me not to try so hard, as it was obvious I was hurting. We came into the examining room and talked for quite a while about what hurt and where and what caused the pain. I lay on the table and he started manipulating. I was nervous: my range of motion was limited and, though I tried working on it, I expected a return to the Woyld of Hoyt. But no. Wayne bent my foot in directions I couldn't imagine it would be willing to move, yet it followed obediently and willingly. There was a minor jolt of pain in the usual spot once, but that was the only time during the several minutes of work.
Wayne was pleased. He thought the foot moved well and was encouraged by the absence of pain. He gave me a exercises to do five times a day: seated calf raises for strength and child pose to increase for range of motion. With passage of time, I'm to add resistance to calf raises by pressing down on my knee with both hands. He told me to increase my daily water intake by one glass to help healing. In theory this is great, but is difficult to implement in practice. Walking to the water cooler involves walking and hurts. Drinking more involves walking to the bathroom and hurts, so it's hard to motivate myself to drink more, but I'll have to. Wayne also gave a compression sock to wear all day and told me to ice the ankle every evening. Since I arrived wearing compression socks, I left his office wearing three of them.
I went to work and as I sat at my desk I did calf raises. My desk has a center drawer and my knees nearly touch it when I sit, so I did two or three sets of resisted calf raises, pushing up with my knee against the bottom of he drawer. Which is dusty, as I discovered when I saw a brown line on my pant leg, above the left knee. The calf raises felt pretty good, though toward the end of each set my leg would begin to shake -- a reminder of its weakness and the work that lay ahead. Nonetheless, I felt encouraged.
I arrived at home after work and, with a crutch in my arm pit, began climbing stairs up to the house. For some bizarre reason, I stepped up with the left foot. I cringed as soon as I realized what I'd done, expecting a bolt of pain, but it didn't come. I stopped, flabbergasted. It didn't hurt. I processed that. Then, I took another step up with the left foot and that felt OK. It ached, but nothing worse than level 3. Thrilled, I walked up the stairs like an uninjured person, alternating feet, and carrying the crutch in my right hand. At the top of the stairs, I took a normal step and that didn't feel so good. On flat ground, the foot has to flex. On the stairs, a peg leg suffices. And a peg leg is what I had. But hey, a functioning peg leg on which I can climb stairs is a dramatic improvement over what I'd had for the week since I started putting weight on my foot and I couldn't be more excited about the improvement.
Wayne had written me an e-mail, summarizing what we'd discussed, explaining the exercise regimen, and cautioning that the next day would be painful because of all the manipulation the foot had undergone. I responded excitedly with a description of my ascent. "Wayne Diamond," I thought, "you are brilliant!" A thrilled text message went to Jessica. Ten minutes later, it was time to pick Sophie from school. I tried walking down stairs and that was not happening. Stepping down with the left foot produced unwelcome level 6-7 pain and I decided not to push it. After returning home with Sophie, I demonstrated my recovered skill to her and she was as excited as I.
Wayne was right about one other thing, the next day was a bear. I had such a hard time that I decided that it would be a two-crutch day. I had to go to court first thing in the morning and it was 10:30 by the time I arrived at the office. I helped myself to the office supply of Advil and settled in. I kept my foot elevated as much as possible and used crutches. As the day wore on, I felt better, but I remained cautious. As with everything else, this would not be a linear progression toward improvement.
.
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