8/8/16. The post where I reward your patience.

8/8/16: this post has nothing to do with RSD. You've stuck with me for awhile. I subjected you to a picture of my foot.  You deserve a break. So I am going to tell you a silly story instead.  After which you may wish I had posted another picture of my foot instead.

Flashback to two years ago.  I would have sworn I told you this story, but I can find no recorded evidence of it.  While we were vacationing in Cinque Terre, I bought a beautiful handmade wrap skirt in a local shop.  In a combination of English, Italian, and Charades, the shopkeeper showed me how to wear it and it made sense. Until I got home and tried to wear it for the first time.  Few things will make you feel less intelligent than not being able to figure out how to wear a skirt.  I had several false starts and then I put it away.  On one of Mom's visits, she and I pulled it out and cracked the code, at least in theory, over a bottle of wine. But I was never brave enough to try it in the heat of battle.  

Back to the present.  Our house is on the market and I am contemplating the requisite downsizing that accompanies any move.  The first step in cleaning out my closet is an evaluation of my clothing.  I am trying to wear things that are not in my normal rotation, and at the end of each wearing I decide to either discard it or add it to the rotation.  Eventually, I made it to the wrap skirt.  Sunday morning I had plenty of time to get ready in a calm, collected fashion, so I decided to give it a try. It felt a little like this: https://youtu.be/-yqfUhc4FQY

And I did it. Basically.  I think it looked as good as you could expect for a three-yard long piece of fabric with random slots and sashes that was handmade in a small fishing village in Italy.  I can now say I am as smart as a wrap skirt.  And it stays in the rotation.

Unlike today's dress.  I spent all day wishing I hadn't worn it, and when I got home, I announced to my patient, long-suffering husband that I was discarding it.  He was supportive, as always.  A little too supportive.  So I asked his opinion.  His response? "Well, it makes you look like you are 50."  (Editor's note: while my patient, long-suffering husband is north of 50, I still have a decent amount of breathing room before I get there.)  He tried to soften the blow by suggesting that I shouldn't try to dress too young, either.  "I'm not saying you should wear jellies and a mini-skirt."  Jellies? And a mini-skirt? Is that what the kids are wearing these days?  I didn't think so.  Bottom line - the dress goes away.  But I am not replacing it with jellies and a mini-skirt.  And now I am seriously questioning my patient, long-suffering husband's sense of fashion.

8/6/16. The post where I have an accidental muse.

8/6/16: I think I can officially say my ankle is healed.  I am wearing normal shoes again and I have been back on my walking schedule for a week.  My foot was not especially happy about that development, but we had a talk and I made it clear it was non-negotiable.  It appears I have dodged a bullet and the RSD is not going to spread to my ankle.  I feel relieved and I am trying to be more careful these days, because I am not good with suspense.  

Which doesn't mean everything has been perfect.  It has been really hot the last few weeks. And while hot weather is better on my foot than cold weather, it has also been humid.  Like, I-Love-Lucy-in-the-steam-cabinet humid. And my foot hates hot, humid weather.  Know what else it hates? Grocery stores. I have no idea why, but walking in the grocery store will trigger a flare up in a heart beat. And Friday afternoon was a perfect storm.

After work, I got into my steam cabinet...I mean, car and drove to the grocery store.  Even though I qualified for the "10 items or less" line, it was enough to send my foot into a small tantrum. While I waited in line, I decided to take a photo for scientific/medical purposes. 

Note to self - don't take photos of your feet in the grocery store. Unbeknownst to me, the man in front of me noticed what I was doing and suddenly he was examining my foot. "Wow, that looks bad. Are you okay?"  I was mortified and it took me a second to think up a response.  Which consisted of a sheepish grin and a "Yes, sorry, I just have a medical issue and I have to take photos to update my doctor."  To which he responded, "No worries. These days people do all kinds of things - you could have a website or something and just be showing off your feet to your fans."  And I immediately thought, "Well that wasn't my plan, but now that you mention it, this would make a good post."  But I decided that was more information than he wanted to know, and he'd already had to look closely at my feet in a place where you purchase food. Instead, we exchanged a few pleasantries and went our separate ways.  

So, thanks to my accidental muse, you now have to look at a picture of my foot.  If you don't like it, you can thank the random grocery store guy.

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...

6/23/16. The post where this is not a drill.

6/23/16:  as you know by now, if you haven't heard from me in awhile, it means either things are going well or I haven't had a spare moment to post.  Recently, it's been both.  I went on a two-week road trip with my patient, long-suffering husband and my foot enjoyed the hot, dry weather.  (The rest of me was not impressed with the hot, dry weather.)  HAL has been working like a charm.  Which means it's time to worry about what might happen.

Having RSD means worrying constantly about injuries. At least that's what it means if you are me.  Most importantly, there are protocols to be followed after an injury to guard against a spread of the disease.  Like mega doses of vitamin C.  No ice to combat swelling.  And thanks to HAL, no MRIs for diagnostic purposes. (Seems like a small price to pay for pain relief.)  It's a lot to remember, especially after an injury.  There are also random questions - will HAL affect my judgment on how much an injury hurts? Has my pain tolerance changed after a couple of years of flare-ups?  I have spent way too much mental energy wondering about these things.

The good news?  I don't have to wonder anymore.  I'd like to say I injured myself rescuing children from a burning building.  Or sprinting in the Olympic trials.  But the truth is that I zigged when I should have zagged and wound up sitting on the ground in a parking lot with a sprained ankle and wounded pride. (Of course, it is my affected right foot.  Are you surprised?)  Nothing broken - fortunately I can still have x-rays.  My doctor was not in the office, but they assigned me a doctor who had at least a passing acquaintance with RSD and enough intellectual curiosity to do some research.  I am currently sporting an air cast and I've been reunited with my trusty, battle-worn crutches.  

And some of my burning questions are being answered.  I remembered the vitamin C rule and my intrepid doctor learned enough through his research to avoid ice and MRIs.  I think HAL has made a difference, because my pain level is not commensurate with my swelling and bruising.  Which is not to say it doesn't hurt.  Because it does.  But I can deal with it, at least for the short term.  I feel like I am in a race to heal before the RSD spreads. And it's hard to run a race with a sprained ankle.