This

On Saturday, despite predictions of cool, wet weather, a warming sun emerged mid-morning. Brian hustled to mow the back lawn before guests arrived for my niece’s bridal shower. Kids, brothers and uncles spent the day playing soccer, hitting baseballs and chasing each other across the lawn. The leaves on the locust trees finally appeared. It was a good day with family, and a chance to think about something besides my ankles.

On May 13, I saw my new doctor, whom I affectionately call the “Bloody Sock Doc,” as he tied Schilling’s ankle together so he could pitch in the 2004 World Series. I may yet have my own bloody sock. I had a nerve study/EMG last Friday. Monday evening my phone rang with “Boston Red Sox” on the caller ID, and I thought, did I win something? But, no. It was my doctor. The nerve study came back normal, so now on to a cortisone shot in the ankle next Wednesday.

When my other doctors suggested cortisone, I kind of quaked with fear and glared at them. This time, I was all, “Sure! Sounds great! Will do!” Such is my attitude shift seven months into this. Of course, having my own celebrity doctor doesn’t hurt either.

He does not believe I have PTTD, which is good. I still have this needling fear that it is PTTD, that I’ll spend the next five years watching my ankle(s) deteriorate, only to face painful surgeries with year-long recoveries on each of them.

The thing perpetuating this fear is that my “good” ankle is having aches and shooting pains in the same spot. I try to ignore it, though, and take this one day at a time. If anyone can fix my ankles, the Bloody Sock Doc can.

Last Sunday I completed four weeks of wearing a Cam air brace on my left leg, and Bloody Sock Doc said I could take it off. For the past four days I’ve worn two sneakers. It feels so great not to be clunking around in that thing. It made my ankle feel worse. For those of you wishing you had leaner calves, all you have to do is get yourself a few Cam air braces and wear them all day long for a month. Your calf will shrink to the width of a baseball bat. I don’t recommend it.

In the seven months since this “ankle thing” began, I have not been particularly strong. I have done a lot of Googling and stressing and crying. I don’t sleep well. I dream about my feet every single night, I shit you not. Brian disconnects the Internet before he leaves for work, so I don’t spend hours freaking myself out in foot surgery forums.

This mini-ordeal has brought me some clarity, at least, in terms of what I want out of life. And it goes beyond healthy ankles.

I want to play with my kids in the yard. I want to serve breakfast, lunch and dinner to my family – and snacks! I want to freeze batches of cookies and muffins. I want to do the laundry and see that it all gets put away. I want to keep the clutter at bay so we can all enjoy our home. I want to frame and hang pictures. I want to chase my toddler through the fields during her brothers’ baseball and soccer games. I want to grab my camera and snap pictures of her every time she plays dress-up or gets into my make-up. I want to go to the grocery store and buy my 8 year old an ice cream cake for his birthday, and bring him to the toy store with his birthday money. I want us to eat pizza at Lynch Park on a weeknight, followed by a game of hide-and-seek among the flower gardens. I want to troll for antiques with Brian. I want to take turns with him trudging up the stairs to tuck the kids in. I want to tackle that sink full of dishes, and even mop the floors.

Gone are the days when I felt like something was missing. Today I look at my life and I know just what I want.

I want this.

Good News and Bad News

I saw the podiatrist yesterday for my MRI results. He walked into the room and said, "Well, I have good news and bad news."

And I said, "Wow, doctors really SAY that?"

Good news, according to him: No obvious tendon tears, tumors or other gross abnormalities. Just some fluid on some tendons and in the subtalar (ankle) joint.

Bad news, according to him: There's no obvious answer to my problem, and he still recommends a cortisone shot.

Good news, according to me: There's no obvious tendon tears, tumors or other abnormalities.

Bad news, according to me: There's fluid on my posterior tibial tendon, the one that is involved in the degenerative PTTD condition that I mentioned. This podiatrist and the radiologist deemed that fluid normal, but I don't think so. Not considering that that's where my pain is.

My take on the situation now is that I have early PTTD, and since it's a rare condition in my age group and demographic, not many doctors have seen it. I'm hoping that when I go to Mass General on Tuesday, that that doctor is very familiar with PTTD so I can get some answers.

The more I've learned about PTTD, the more I've realized that it's not the surgery itself that is so scary, although it is extensive. What's troubling is the many months of "conservative care" that most doctors put you through first: casts, crutches, walking bracing, cortisone shots. Which to me equals several months more of SUFFERING with this ankle. I can deal with crutches and all that if I am healing, but if it's just to put off the inevitable surgery, that's harder to take.

I'm very happy that, if I do have PTTD, it seems to be in the early stages. I'm glad there are no tumors or anything potentially fatal. I'm glad my next appointment is only four days away. I'm glad I get to impress my boys by telling them I'm going to see the Red Sox's foot/ankle surgeon. And yeah, they are VERY impressed by that. Let's hope he impressed ME when I finally meet him.

Come Holy Spirit

Have you ever gone to church and felt that the priest’s sermon was written just for you? That happened to me on Sunday. The topic was patience.

Patience and trust have become my words for 2008. Patience to get my foot back into working order, and trust that I can get through this, and that all of it will be for good in the end.

Last month a had a surgeon advise me to go ahead with tendon repair surgery on my ankle or first put a walking cast on for six weeks to see if that helps. I went for a second opinion, and that doctor didn’t think it was a tendon at all.

Trouble is, while waiting for my second opinion I talked with my physical therapist. He is the owner of the clinic, a senior, well-certified guy, and with his advice I did some *ahem* weight training. And I think I hurt my ankle worse than it was to begin with.

I have on this stupid Cam Walker air-cast brace thingy. Although it is more comfortable than a plaster walking cast would be. My ankle hurts, a deep burning sensation. Today was hard because my other “good” foot is killing me. Chasing my two year old = pain.

My aunt’s podiatrist, whom I saw for the second opinion, turned out to be a cool guy. Even though I told him I’m going to Mass General for a third opinion, he agreed to order a MRI with contrast, on his hospital’s super 3.0T machine, and to do some weight-bearing X-rays, which he couldn’t believe no one had done before now. I had the MRI Monday, and I go in for the results and the X-rays tomorrow. This way, when I go to Mass General on Tuesday, I will have these results in-hand. A lot of doctor’s would have blown me off as soon as I told them I was going to someone else. He didn’t do that. He decided to help me, and I’m very grateful.

I’m also very apprehensive to get the results. One of my fear's is PTTD, which would mean my arch is collapsing and I’d need foot reconstructive surgery. My other foot could have the same thing. So tomorrow is the Big Day in terms of a diagnosis.

Of course when I got home from the MRI Monday, I popped the CD right into my computer to take a look. There’s a big bright spot that wasn’t there in January on my first MRI, and the bright spot goes right through my ankle joint. Since I’m not a radiologist, I don’t know what that is, but I know it’s where my pain is.

So back to church: Sunday, the priest talked about patience, and how we all get impatient. He suggested that when we find ourselves waiting, we should pray, “Come holy spirit.” I’ve been saying “Come holy spirit” a lot under my breath this week. Sometimes through tears.

I also keep reminding myself that God loves me, and I try to trust Him to take care of this, and to trust that good things will come of it. I also keep this running list in my mind of things that would be worse than what I’m going through. But I’m not so sure that last one helps. Perhaps a list of things I can do with my kids while sitting down would be more useful.