Whazzup!?

I wanted to do a few things before I started blogging again.

I wanted to declutter my house.

I wanted to get a new design because, hello, my wedding rings don’t fit and my belly is big and round but I’m not pregnant and I’m not letting anyone photograph it.

And I wanted my ankles to be healed so I could be like, “Hey, everything’s all set!”

Over the months I’ve gotten a few emails saying “What the hell’s going on, woman?” The first priority, then, is to update you on the ankle thing.

Last June, I reached a point with my ankles where I could not speak about them. I’d say that coincided with my referral to neurology. I had gotten so used to the pain being an orthopedic one that the mere suggestion that it was systemic or neurological brought immediate breakdown.

And let’s face it, I’d exhausted my brain and my heart by trying handle things myself, to get the “right” doctor and the “right” diagnosis. Calculating when I’d return to daily walks and workouts. Calculating when I could walk on the beach with my kids. That referral in June said one thing to me: You’ll never do those things. June, July, August and even parts of September? Pretty much a cry fest.

Those months brought many tears, and many medical tests. Getting through a battery of medical tests to arrive at a diagnosis is something that, as Americans, I think we want or expect to happen in a few weeks. It doesn’t work that way, of course. And the waiting sometimes hurts more than the physical pain we’re trying to diagnose.

In September, after all of my medical tests came back normal, I met with my neurologist. I came armed with my husband, a page-long list of questions, my fancy digital audio recorder, and a few Ativan in my system for good measure. I most wanted her to give me hope that I would heal and be normal again.

The neurologist believes that I suffered small nerve damage when I twisted my ankles multiple times. However, she could not completely rule out peripheral neuropathy, which may or may not improve and may or may not spread.

Then she gave me a pep talk about the body’s overwhelming propensity for healing.

Then she told me that I’m almost 40 and shouldn’t expect to feel like I’m 20.

I took a break from thinking about my ankles after that. And when I was ready, I got my package of records together and mailed it to Dr. Lee Dellon in Baltimore. He called me THE NEXT DAY and surmised that I had stretched my saphonous nerve. A nerve that with all of my googling I had never heard of.

Fortunately, there is a “Dellon Institute” about 15 minutes from my house. That doctor didn’t zero in on the saphonous nerve until I showed her in writing what Dr. Dellon had told me. So, she agreed to do a few nerve blocks to the saphonous nerve to see what happened. The second time I brought my kids so they could see me get a huge needle in my leg without even a wince. “Don’t forget, guys, your mom’s a ROCKSTAR!” They rightly impressed.

The pain relief I got from those blocks was enough that she thinks it’s the cause of my pain (diagnosis). I can either live with and medicate the pain or get surgery to kill the nerve so I have numbness in that area instead of pain (solution).

So, it appears that I have a diagnosis, and a treatment plan!

Next Tuesday, I see my neurologist. I’ll tell her about this peripheral nerve/plastic surgeons I’ve consulted get her take on the diagnosis and treatment option they gave me. I fully expect that the neurologist will disagree and that it will throw me into a bit of despair.

The thing is though, that since last fall, my ankles have slooooowly improved. Some days when they don’t hurt at all, sometimes I just feel pressure or heaviness there and then sometimes they hurt. But the slow improvement seems consistent with what I’ve heard about nerve damage. That it can heal but you measure your improvement in months and years, not days and weeks.

So, probably regardless of what my neurologist says, I will see the peripheral nerve/plastic surgeon again in the summer. We’ll decide if the pain’s still improving or not. Then, if I do decide to have the surgery, I will probably run everything by Dr. Dellon in Baltimore and have the surgeries performed by him early next year ...

… after I get my massage therapy license. I’m getting my massage therapy license!

School starts April 13, and I’ll finish up December 13.

It’s something I’ve wanted for a while. In fact, I remember some of the schools calling me back last spring and having to tearfully tell them I’d run into some health problems so I couldn’t do it.

Now, I’m doing it. Slow-healing ankles or no. I’m doing it.