My Follow-Up

Get ready to hear Chatty Cathy. I mean Debbie. I just got back from my follow-up appointment today at 2. I have felt so excited about washing my hair, shaving my legs for the first time, and putting on make- up and jewelry. I relished the trip to the doctor's office and just have a new appreciation for trees and the day-to-day activities of life. It was great to see people in their cars at the red lights and just know that you made their day when you flashed them a smile. I almost heard the high-pitched, "ting" and saw the light flash from the brightness of my teeth. It was a good beginning. (Let me take this moment to apologize for not writing yesterday. I was too excited about today coming!)

First things first. I perused the waiting room to make sure no one was wearing a swine flu mask or sniffling, because that was the pre-determiner of where I would sit. We didn't have to wait long, but long enough for me to strike up a conversation with a fellow surgicant. She had just had a bone biopsy done on her big toe and she was already in a shoe. I was impressed, but it made my foot hurt even thinking about having it enclosed in a REAL shoe. We did some quick comparisons. We both had just shaved our legs for the first time since the surgery, but she had washed her hair multiple times and even vacuumed, which I sure couldn't beat and didn't want to. She did say she'd paid for the vacuuming with pain. (The whole house, mind you.) Her husband had stepped outside, or he would have gotten a look from me. I did mention that it was probably good for him to learn how to take care of himself and her, as it's never too late to teach an old dog new tricks. (No, I only thought the last part.)

All the patients in the room had a foot contraption on of some kind or another. Scarlette, forget what I said about the weight. We saw a couple of modes of transportation that, yes, looked cumbersome, BUT did help the person in question, to stay mobile. One was a motorized wheelchair, and the other was a knee scooter, where the occupant, bent the operated-on- knee and rested it on the scooter; then walked the other foot. The little wheels on the scooter just went with the flow. This would be my vote, as the wheelchair was wide, and the scooter wasn't. Caution, though, you maybe could tip the scooter, but no way with the wheelchair, as it didn't appear to go over a foot per second, and it was more difficult to maneuver through doorways.

The nurse took off the bandage and I was so pleased at how good my foot looked. Yes, there's about a four inch incision going down from my big toe downward, and there was a tinge of dried blood, but that's all I saw at that point in time, along with all the thin strips of tape holding everything together. After she'd asked if Randy had been exercising my big toe, and I told her I'd thought he was a little too rough, she took it between her fingers and bent it back and forth with a force that almost made me jump out of the chair. Needless to say, after she told me that would be all the doctor was going to do-- to check the mobility of my toe--I told Randy it couldn't hurt as badly as what she had just done and I was ready to tattle to the doctor that her beside manner could use some work before the next patient came in. I could already see myself back on pain pills after I'd been so good about not using them very much. We had to have new x-rays, and then the wait.

To make things worse, there was a building right across the way, that had an upstairs window where people could see you, but you couldn't really tell if there was anyone on the other side or not. I decided to make the best of it, so I waved and entertained, just in case someone was watching, because most of the patients out in the waiting room didn't look as though they had apparent senses of humor. How monotonous day-after-day, to look down and see the same thing. " That can't be a good testimony for foot surgery," I thought. (Remember my pre-surgery commitment to have a good attitude through it all?") Randy even sent out pictures to the family of me in the chair and I was smiling.

THEN, the doctor came in. So help me. He had Dr. Welby's bedside manner and that other TV doctor's, whose name I can't remember, who was short and balding, looks. He showed me his wonderful handiwork through the x-ray, which I probably would have done a little differently had I been in charge, and told me he'd take the two pins out if they ever hurt me. (I hope and pray I NEVER drop anything on that foot considering this is the only ONE TIME cosmetic plastic surgery I have ever considered.) Then he proceeded to take my toe and...well, I have to interrupt here so you can get the full measure of what I experienced. Remember the "This little piggy" nursery rhyme, which is pretty harmless in and of itself, that we have all either had done to us or did to a little child? He took my toe, without reciting the nursery rhyme, and bent it back and forth at a speed you could not even imagine. I think he was cackling and his eyes were twinkling maniacally. He was having the time of his life! I started howling where everyone in the whole office must have heard me, and I raised my voice a little like when I used to teach school and told him to stop. My good attitude went right out the door. I gripped the sides of the chair and felt the pain of childbirth again, with the baby coming out of my foot this time. Randy was laughing his nervous laugh right beside me.

I am serious...once the stars had cleared from my vision, I looked down at my foot and could not believe that he had not ripped open every single surgical stitch, (which absorbs into my body, thank the Lord! If there's a silver lining, that's it.) and there wasn't blood squirting all over the place like a leaky water pipe with the water flowing full force. I told him to get me back into x-ray pronto because I knew he had just re-broken my repaired foot. He seemed to think that was funny, too. I hastened to take a look at the ceiling for blood, and another look at my foot to see if it was swelling, and did point out to him that it did appear to be bruising right before our eyes...you know, BLOOD UNDER THE SKIN, in the toe area and all around the whole foot. He didn't give it another glance. He just kept smiling and told us he'd see us in 3 1/2 weeks. And then he warned me that he was going to take my toe the next time, (Let's pause here again for a moment.) and he took my pinky toe, and just like we've all done millions of time with the "This Little Piggy" game; you know where, when it comes to the last toe and we add speed and apply pressure for extra measure, and we say, "And this little piggy went wee wee wee, all the way home;" he shook that little toe back and forth like there was no tomorrow. (I determined right then that I would figure out how to exercise that toe myself.)

We got marching orders and my new shoe I get to graduate into in another 10 days, and headed for the car. I know you can visualize what I was telling Randy on the way home. If he even thought for one second that I would allow him to touch me like that, he had another thing coming. I told him I would hurt him if he even thought about it. This, to my wonderful care-giver and husband, who gave me ice on my foot 5 days post-surgery, even though they had underlined that it only had to be done for 24 hours. (I did call the doctor's office once, after I had requested the post-surgery instructions from Randy, so I could see for myself what was allowed or not allowed. I wanted to make sure the ice wasn't hindering my recovery. You know the body seems to know whether heat or ice is needed to alleviate pain and swelling, and I certainly didn't want to run the risk of doing who-knows-what-kind of internal damage by not being cognizant of what to apply and when.)

All this to say, I get to wear this new bandage for another 10 days, then I get to discard the bandages and boot and take a shower, without covering my foot. From there, I put on a sock, not too tight, and introduce my NEW flatter, more stylish, orthopedic version of a shoe, and back to the torture chamber 3 1/2 weeks from now. I am already working myself up about that visit and how I am going to get that toe flexible without pain and destruction to my foot. I have developed a tic in my eye, in fact. Therefore I will be signing off for now, as it just beats faster the more I type. Thanks for your prayers. Please don't stop. I think I need them now more than ever!