1/31/14. The post where I tell you about the perfect ten.

1/31/14: after a couple of days of respite, the pain began to ratchet up again.  Based on my reaction to the previous appointment and the fact that I was already struggling, my PT decided to back off a little bit.  (Apologies to those of you who were hoping to see a photo of me in the harness on the treadmill.  Maybe next week.)  She decided to concentrate on therapy to increase my overall blood flow without aggravating my foot.  I did some core exercises and got to use the arm stationary bike (that is my made-up name for it), a bizarre contraption where you "pedal" with your arms.  

As the afternoon wore on, the pain continued to inch up.  I started to think about skipping my book club.  I've been in a book club for ten years with some very close friends.  Each person takes a turn choosing a book and hosting dinner for the rest of the group.  I love book club and hate when I have to miss it.  I decided if I was going to hurt, I'd rather hurt while eating a delicious dinner and spending time with my friends.

It was a nice evening.  I got to catch up with some friends I hadn't seen since before Christmas.  Our host had whipped up a fantastic Mexican food feast and served some wonderful wines.  We had read the book "Unbroken" by Laura Hillenbrand and a lively discussion ensued.  It was a biography of Louis Zamperini, a former Olympic runner who survived a WWII plane crash, lived over a month on a life raft in shark-infested waters, and was a POW in Japan for two years before the war ended. (He is still alive today, aged 97.) I can't imagine surviving in the conditions he did. After reading it, I resolved to try to complain less about my situation. (Spoiler alert: I will break this resolution before the end of this post.)

Near the end of the evening, I realized the pain was rapidly spiraling out of control.  I can't really remember what happened the last thirty minutes of the event, or what book we are supposed to read next.  All my concentration was focused on not crying or rolling up into a ball on my host's living room floor.  Fortunately, I had carpooled with friends, so I did not have to drive myself home.  

I managed to get into the house without assistance and got ready for bed.  When I pulled my shoe off, my entire foot was swollen and bright red, almost as red as my toenail polish. (OPI's "Color So Hot It Berns" from the Swiss collection, in case you're wondering.)  I laid down and propped my foot up on a wedge pillow to try to get the swelling down.  My patient, long-suffering husband asked me questions to try to distract me and endured me gripping his arm hard enough that I'm sure it left marks.  I think I finally hit the perfect score.

While I tried to occupy my mind, I thought about writing a post, but I decided when I first started this blog that I should never write a post during the heat of battle.  I hope a little distance and perspective will help me keep my resolution not to complain.

Fortunately, things finally calmed down enough that I could get some sleep.  I'm probably down to an 8 right now, which is a relief in comparison to last night.  Think I'll take it easy this morning while my patient, long-suffering husband takes a long bike ride and tries to regain the feeling in his arm.  Two final thoughts on the day:

1. Should I have gone to book club? Maybe not, but I'm glad I did.

2. I would never make it as a POW.