7/22/16. The post where I am cautioumistic.

7/22/16: I have gone a week without wearing the air cast.  I was a little wobbly for the first few days.  I think I looked a little like this:  https://youtu.be/s3womp1b1I4  But by Thursday, I was getting around well enough to take a short walk before work.  It didn't feel great, but it didn't feel terrible, so I did it again today.  I am also finished with physical therapy.  Okay, technically, I wasn't released from physical therapy.  I just snuck out of the office on Tuesday without making another appointment.  I think I've gotten all I can out of the appointments and I feel confident in my ability to keep up with the exercises on my own.  I've had a couple of RSD flare ups over the course of the week, but nothing I can't handle.

The rest of my week has gone in a similar fashion.  Yes, some scary things have happened in the world. But I also had some fun times with my patient, long-suffering husband and some great friends. I found out today that Fabian Cancellara, the cyclist I've been rooting for the last two weeks, withdrew from the Tour de France.  But it is not because of an injury - he just figured out he can't win and needs to rest up so he can participate in the Olympics, which are only two weeks away.  So I have another chance to root for him.  My mom, who continues her own medical journey, had an uncomfortable procedure this week, but one that we hope will give her some relief from the even more uncomfortable situation she's been in for the last few months.

An awesome woman who has been my hair stylist and friend for more than fifteen years taught me a word that describes how I feel right now.  She calls it "cautioumistic" - an abbreviation of cautiously optimistic.  I'm not sure if that's the right way to spell it, but that is the beauty of a made-up word.  I am cautioumistic for me, for my mom, for Fabian Cancellara, and for the world. And I hope you all will be, too.

7/15/16. The post where I am reminded to keep pedaling.

7/15/16: my ankle has been improving over the last week.  My physical therapist is fascinated by RSD and continues to ask a lot of questions, which I am more than happy to answer.  I am going to try to jettison the air cast this weekend - while four weeks of flip-flops has been fun, I am ready to move on to more interesting footwear. Those summer shoes aren't going to wear themselves.  

My attitude, however, did not improve as much as my ankle.  I was able to get through much of the last week by imagining that my patient, long-suffering husband and I could sell all our things and move to one of our favorite spots in the world, Villefranche-sur-Mer.  It is a small village in the South of France on the Mediterranean Sea where we spent one of the happiest weeks of our life together. (And when you can call a week in which your patient, long-suffering husband walked through a plate glass window one of the happiest of your life, that is saying something.)  We have long dreamed of retiring there and last week, moving up our plans seemed like a great idea.  It is the best of all worlds - small enough to get away from it all, but conveniently located eight kilometers from Nice for those times you need the big city.  

We were reminded again last night that you can't escape the world.  We found out about the tragedy in Nice as we were leaving to celebrate Bastille Day with friends.  The celebration was a little more subdued, but also much more meaningful.  Since we are all cycling enthusiasts, we watched yesterday's Tour de France stage, where I learned another life lesson.  To set the stage, the finish line had to be moved at the last minute because of high winds, which resulted in more spectators crammed into a smaller area that was not sufficiently barricaded.  Chris Froome, the cyclist who was currently in first place (the yellow jersey, or "maillot jaune"), was with a group of riders near the front of the pack and was poised to retain his lead.  With less than one kilometer to go (for those of you who are metrically challenged, it was approximately half a mile) to the new finish line, the throng of spectators was so large it blocked the route and the motorcycle cameraman in front of the riders had to come to a sudden stop.  And then all hell broke loose.  

https://www.theguardian.com/sport/video/2016/jul/14/chris-froome-forced-run-up-mountain-stage-12-tour-de-france-video

A rider crashed into the motorcycle, causing a much larger crash. Froome's bicycle was not functional and the team cars carrying extra bikes were behind the crash.  Froome began running toward the finish line while the team cars caught up. (Editor's note: no, you can't win the race by finishing on foot.) When the cars caught up, the first bike he grabbed did not have pedals that matched the cleats on his shoes, which meant he could not clip into the pedals. He threw the first bike to the side of the road, grabbed a second bike and pedaled like his life depended on it.  He crossed the finish line, but lost most of his lead.  (Never fear.  The Tour has a long history of fairness to its participants and they froze the stage results at the time of the crash, so he did not lose the yellow jersey.)

The lesson I learned was not that fans can be real jerks sometimes. (That is a post for another day.)  No, the lesson was that you may not be able to escape trouble, but you have to keep pedaling. Or running.  So I guess I will postpone my retirement plans and put on my big girl bicycle shorts.  And hope the cleats match the pedals.

7/8/16. The post where I get a little emotional.

7/8/16: started physical therapy yesterday.  Since it was the first visit, there was a lot of measuring, testing, and touching of my foot.  Not my favorite thing. My physical therapist has at least a passing familiarity with RSD and is interested in learning more, so he asked approximately a thousand questions, most of which are unrelated to my current injury.  He gave me a few easy stretches and exercises to do until my next appointment and stressed that I should only do them to the extent it doesn't cause a flare up. 

Well, too late.  Between the first PT appointment, the oppressive humidity this week, and stress, I've got a pretty good flare-up going.  If you've been reading my blog since the beginning, you know that I am very careful about my privacy and that of my friends and family, so I share few details about my profession, my home, or my personal life.  I also rarely discuss current events.  But I will tell you that the events of this week have had particular meaning for me and I am physically, mentally, and emotionally drained.  So this evening, there was no TV or Internet (unless you count the Tour de France and my blog app).  But there was comfort food.  When you have the good fortune to be loved by a chef who can't stand to see you sad and in pain, you get cacio e pepe for dinner instead of the diet salad you were planning to eat.  For those of you unfamiliar with cacio e pepe, imagine grownup, Italian macaroni and cheese. Just what the doctor ordered and a good reminder that I am a lucky girl.

As long as I am talking about emotional things, I will also tell you about a film that was released today.  It is called "Trial by Fire" and it is a documentary about CRPS/RSD.  http://www.trialbyfiremovie.com/    I am very glad it exists, because I think education is one of the keys to a cure.  I have no idea whether it is a good film.  Because I'm not sure I can watch it.  And I definitely cannot watch it right now.  Rash optimism has been one of my best defenses so far, which has meant staying away from support groups or too much discussion about it.  I'm afraid that makes me a poor ambassador, but to quote one of my favorite movies ("Love Actually"), it's a self-preservation thing.  https://youtu.be/UB-r_yJtC5Q. Now that's a movie I can watch, over and over.  And sort of appropriate for this week, now that I think about it.  

Sorry this hasn't been a very fun post - I promise to do better next time.  My best recommendation for getting through the weekend?  Make some cacio e pepe.  Turn off the news and Internet for awhile.  And be good to each other.

7/6/16. The post where I tell you about an interesting coincidence.

7/6/16: went to the orthopedist today. After two and a half weeks, my ankle hadn't healed as much as I had hoped it would and my patient, long-suffering husband gently encouraged me to make an appointment.  And by "gently encouraged", I mean "incessantly nagged until he wore down my resistance."  The good news? The orthopedist was not too concerned.  Since an MRI was not an option, he poked and prodded my ankle and determined based on my reactions (which I am proud to say did not include cursing or slapping him, although I wanted to) that the sprain was most likely to my ATFL. Which is the anterior talofibular ligament. Obviously.  He was also very familiar with RSD and felt like the best strategy was to strengthen my ankle in hopes of avoiding additional injuries in the future. So, off I go to physical therapy tomorrow to learn some strengthening exercises.  The bad news? He told me it could take up to four more weeks to heal.  Guess I should get used to wearing the air cast and flip-flops for the near future.

The Tour de France started a few days ago, and since I am a glutton for punishment, I am watching it wistfully, remembering my cycling days.  Apparently I have not been watching it closely enough, though, because only today (stage 5) did I realize Fabian Cancellera is in the race. Why is that important, you ask? Because he was supposed to retire last year.  Until he had a terrible accident in the Tour de France and withdrew from the race with two broken vertebrae. (I chronicled the sad story last year in my 7/7/15 blog.)  After his recovery, he decided to hang around for one more year and he is the captain of his team for the 2016 tour.  

As I read last year's blog, I was amazed by the coincidence.  Last year at this time I was recovering from a strained trapezoid muscle, watching the Tour de France, and being inspired by Fabian Cancellera.  This year, I am recovering from a sprained ATF ligament, watching the Tour de France, and being inspired by Fabian Cancellera.  I hope the coincidence ends there.  He may not win, but I hope he finishes the race.  I won't know for another 18 days. At least the suspense will keep me occupied while I heal.

With any luck, this time next year he will be happily retired after a successful final race season and I will not be recovering from anything.  Stay tuned...