Since my reconstructive foot surgery on November 15, I've been relegated to a bathtub. Actually, it was November 30 that I was first able to soak in a tub, when I was promoted from a fibreglass cast to my Aircast.
No matter how much you can scrub yourself clean in a bathtub, you still lift yourself out of water, from where soap and dead skin float. I would always emerge from the tub feeling that a layer of film still clung to me. I was clean but not squeaky clean.
When I was finally able to put my peg leg aside and walk on my Aircast, permitted to put weight onto my protected foot, I felt that real progress was being made with my recovery. And while it still felt strange to support myself on my left foot, there was no pain (although, the nerves are still causing discomfort).
The doctor, after looking at my latest x-ray, deemed that four more weeks in the cast were needed, but that I should take my foot out of the cast whenever I wasn't walking and practice moving my foot: pointing my toes, rocking the foot from side to side, and drawing the alphabet with my toes.
After three weeks, the doctor said, I could try putting weight on my foot to see if I could support myself. Take baby steps. Take it easy.
I haven't followed his instructions quite the way he wanted.
After a week, I tried standing on both feet. I favoured my strong, right foot, but applied some weight to the left. There was no pain, so I took one step. Again, no pain.
I walked from one side of our family room to the other. No pain. Mind you, I was making sure that the majority of my weight was directed to my heel, away from the surgery. I wasn't about to place any pressure on my metatarsals and phalanges. The screws and plate, I believe, are attached to the cuneiform bones, while I think don't move much, anyway.
Over the next week, in the evenings, I would carefully practice walking from my bed to the bathroom and back. I would lean as much as I could on the bed, and would support myself along the bathroom counter, but I would still let my foot carry some weight.
Last week, I would go all day, walking barefoot, taking delicate baby steps, using my cast only for attending to chores and navigating stairways. Until last Friday, when I climbed the stairs while my Aircast stayed with my winter boot.
I know, I'm pushing my luck.
On Saturday, before going out to dinner with some friends, I was about to fill the bathtub when I thought, you know? I'm confident enough to stand in the shower.
Our ensuite shower stall is so small that you can't extend your elbows without touching each side of the enclosed space. I applied most of my weight to my good foot, pivoted ever so slightly.
I emerged both clean and elated. My days of bathing are over.
I still have less than two weeks before I visit my surgeon again, when we'll take more x-rays and determine whether I can go without a cast. I'll tell him what I've been doing and am hopeful that I can wear my other winter boot for the first time this season.
There is light at the end of the tunnel and it looks bright.
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