Slowing Up

It's now the hardest leg of my recovery. No pun intended.

Last Friday, nine weeks and a day after my reconstructive foot surgery, I was back in the hospital, having a fresh set of x-rays taken. Three weeks prior, I was going through the exact same process. But back then, the x-rays showed two spots in my foot where the bones weren't knitted enough to support my weight, and so I was told to stay on my peg leg a little longer.

But on Friday, with the new x-rays displaying next to the previous image, we could see that one of the two spots was fully fused: the other, still showing a sliver of grey but deemed strong enough to support me.

I walked into the hospital with the use of my peg leg and walked out on both feet.

It was a great feeling, emotionally. I'm at a stage of the recovery where I just want the whole thing over, just want to be back to normal. Walking out of the hospital, my left leg still encased in the Aircast, my foot felt strange but I could slowly walk the main corridor, out the building, to where DW was waiting to drive me home.

The doctor told me that I was to return in four weeks, when another x-ray image would be captured and we could decide whether I could walk without the cast or would have to wait a little longer. Overall, I'm a month ahead of the worst-case prognosis for recovery, but I'm hopeful.

Once home, I walked around our family room and kitchen, to get used to the movement in the cast. The sole of the cast is thicker than any footwear that I own, and so I'm a bit off-kilter but manageable.

On Saturday, I was on my foot long enough to perform some household chores, and in the evening DW and I went to Hull for dinner with some friends. I walked a block, in frigid, snowy weather, and was fine.

On Sunday, I ventured to a local sports centre, to check out the possibility of going for a swim. My doctor said that I could do it as long as I kept the kicks at a minimum. I wanted to know how the family change rooms would accommodate me, and DW and I worked out a plan to get me to the pool.

We're going to try it next weekend.

With the weather unbearably cold and snowy on Monday, I worked from home, walking very little. It wasn't until yesterday (Tuesday) that the weather and road conditions allowed me to go into the office.

I wasn't ready.

I walked about as much as I would have with my peg leg, but the cast keeps me walking at about half the pace of the peg. And as the day wore on, my foot started to hurt: not necessarily from the surgery region, but from an area closer to my ankle. And, the pain felt more arthritic than anything else (I suffer from acute osteoarthritis in both feet).

One of my colleagues ran into me several times over the course of the day, and in the afternoon asked me if it was her perception, or was I moving more slowly.

I was moving more slowly.

In the last hour of my workday, after having made a trip to the washroom (which is on the opposite side of the building from my desk), I promised that the next time I had to walk anywhere, it would be from my desk to the car, and then from the car to my family-room sofa.

Long before I was ready for bed, before I was ready to sit in front of my laptop and write this post, my foot was done.

My next visit to the hospital seems so far away.

I know that I need to exercise this foot, that I need to practice walking on it. But perhaps a full day in the office is too much. Luckily today (Wednesday), the weather prohibits me from venturing outside. Tomorrow also seems unlikely to give me a break from the weather.

It's now a balance between cabin fever and enduring pain in the office. I need to weigh the pros and cons of both.

It's the most difficult segment of my road to recovery. I've slowed down, felt more pain, but at least I know I'm still headed in the right direction.