|I'm trying to convince people its the newest |
fashion statement. It's not going well.
1. Parachuting behind enemy lines to bring food to starving children
2. Fighting a bear
3. Pulling children out of a burning building
4. Running with the bulls
I'm adding hang gliding in Venezuela next, because you wouldn't believe the attention this fancy foot is attracting. People I don't know, have never seen before, are stopping me, asking what happened (which is a little weird.)
So, the unglamorous truth is that I was standing in the middle of the kitchen, perfectly still, cutting vegetables for dinner on a Wednesday night, and my foot started to hurt. It didn't stop. It was stiff and sore on Thursday, but weird pain, right? It will go away.
I woke up Friday morning and couldn't walk.
Like, crawling (literally) around the house, just about screaming, and most definitely crying and throwing myself one heck of a pity party. It was ugly, and shameful, and included things like "first my knee, then my back, and now I can't walk! Things are going to start FALLING OFF OF ME!"
After an eternity of calls (seriously, does NO ONE in the medical profession work on Fridays?), I made an appointment, took a pity nap, then hobbled to the doctor's. They took x-rays, decided that it was, with 95% confidence, a stress fracture, put me into the boot (which is obviously this year's Manolo Blahnik's little black stiletto,) and referred me to a specialist to clear up that other 5%. They told me that the specialist would decide if I needed surgery, a cast, or nothing. I wasn't thrilled about those odds.
After a weekend of hobbling around, I was able to get in to see the specialist's nurse practitioner Monday. She took a look at the x-rays, took more, and decided I needed an MRI. I asked about skiing the next weekend. Seriously, I didn't know, and frankly, I really wanted to ski. Well, she laughed, the nurse thought I was crazy, but they agreed to schedule me later in the week for a follow-up consultation with the specialist, if I could get the MRI done in time.
Off I went to the MRI Wednesday night. I had NO idea what an MRI entailed. I thought it was an in-and-out deal. I didn't know that an MRI was like a 40 minute, LOUD, can't-move-a-muscle-even-if-your-nose-itches ordeal.
Thursday, I went to the specialist. I was nervous, mainly because the words surgery and cast had been used, and well, that doesn't jive well with "half-marathon in August." Or "bought cute shoes." Or "ninja-like stealth." But guess what?
Saturday I went skiing!
|Ridiculously happy on Monarch Mountain|
|Me, Danielle, and Heidi|
The no running, slowed walking thing, while not so convenient, should also help my knee and my back heal, since I can't harm them at my turtle-esque pace.
I'll take it!