What Goes Around, Comes Around

Well, I was told this day would come. It's just a little sooner than I anticipated or was prophesied to me, but hey, I've hit my deductible for the year, anyway, and who knows if I'll even be able to afford healthcare next year, so what the hell. I'm having foot surgery! Wooo

About a year or so ago, all the feeling in my Frankentoe came back and at first it wasn't much of anything. It meant the 24/7 buzzing was pretty much gone, but at times would come back like my foot was falling asleep. No big deal. Then it started itching sometimes. Okay, that's fine. Then it started feeling crawly every so often. Still not a big deal at all. Then it started burning. Oh, hey, I remember this feeling. This is still fine. Then it started throbbing. I mean, I haven't felt it for 5 years, what's a little pain to make up for lost time, yeah? Then it started burning and crawling and throbbing all the time. And aching after I walking for more than an hour. And it was keeping me up at night. And giving me back problems. And just generally being a giant asshole.

So I started wearing compression socks every day, and getting Cortisone shots every other week, and I got new shoes and in-soles. And then I rolled my ankle for the billionth time and my podiatrist said that we were just slapping Band-aids on the problems.

Apparently my big toe bones are still not aligned properly and one of my sesamoids (a pair of little pea-sized bones on the bottom of your big toe that absorb all your weight when you walk) is rotated and not even touching the ground when I walk and the other one is taking all the weight when I walk and there is a ton of scar tissue built up where they previously shaved down my bones on the ball of my foot and my ankle also has a ton of scar tissue and my "ligaments are shot." That's a direct quote, btw

And if you have scar tissue and calluses on the ball of your foot, that means bones are rubbing together. And those bones should not be rubbing together. So that means things are mis-aligned. And for all I know, they've been mis-aligned for 5 years, because I couldn't fricking feel them. Or something slipped at some point. Again, hell if I know, I couldn't feel it. Maybe that's what caused me to start feeling things again, for all I know.

So they're going to go in and repair the big toe again. And while we're at, it fix the ligament tear from 2 years ago, and just go ahead and reinforce all the ligaments in that ankle, since they just keep going out, one by one.

And that's the latest chapter in this 10 year foot saga. I'm told this fix should last me "about 10 years," so expect an update about the next venture in about 7 years...

I'm hoping they can just 4-D print me a new foot by then using my own spit.

Rad

Last month, my friend and I signed up for a color run, to take place next month, called Color Me Rad. The rad people at the run saw my post about it and sent me some free swag, telling me they were inspired by my story.

How rad is that?! Check it out! Thanks, Color Me Rad!

I've been trying to prepare for the run, seeing that the only physical activity I did for the last few years was Physical Torture (Therapy) and that ended over 6 months ago. I recently went hiking with some friends and landed in the hospital. Shocking, right? One day I'll learn... Probably not, but I'll keep saying it, anyway.

A friend of mine has been telling me about this great climbing spot and I've been dying to go, so we did. Only he didn't tell me what getting there entailed, and I didn't think to ask.

Idealistic, right?

I mean, look at this place; it's amazing! And it'd been a while since I hung out around a hospital, anyway- I was due for a visit.

To give you an idea of what I got myself into...

Steep hills

Traversing

*Blogger is being difficult and keeps re-sizing the section below. 

In my defense, aside from the fact that I still continue to think that I am capable of doing the same degree of things I did before I got sick, our other friend was also unprepared for our trek. So there!

The hilly hike wasn't so bad. Neither was hopping across a stream on slippery, wobbly, rocks. Our climbing was moderate and I paced myself. The real clincher, and really, to be honest, my favorite thing about this spot, was that you have to climb along a rock wall, around a body of water, and make it across a six foot gap, to get to the climbing area. At the end of the day, when we were ready to head back out, and it came time to make it back across the gap, I was pumped (that's climber speak for exhausted and weak). I realized when I was half-way across, that I'd forgotten to stretch. Rookie mistake. By that point, I just powered through it. The hike back up the hill to our cars felt like Everest.

I stretched when I got home, but it's apparent now that I waited much too long. Oh, and that I overdid it. Hindsight is 20/20!

The next day my ankle was swollen and my thigh was tight, so I iced/heated it all day. The second day after, I couldn't bend my knee, so I stayed in bed with it elevated. The 3rd day after, my toes looked like sausages and my thigh was rock hard. That's when I decided to ask my Mama what she thought.

Cue the blood-clot scare. If I had a dollar for every time it's looked like I had a blood-clot, I'd totally have two dollars! Remember this?

Don't worry, it wasn't a blood clot, it was just my leg being pissed at me. They released my muscles, gave me some meds, and sent me home.

Long story short, I'm going to be smarter this time and work up to the Color Run. My rad swag will be great motivation to do so and I can't wait to show off my tee and bottle around the neighborhood.

And of course, I'll be sure to stretch.


*I literally changed it a dozen times, in various ways, and it won't stop doing it. I'm going to stop trying now, or I really will give myself a blood-clot.

Pâtissierie pheromones

This weekend two of my dearest friends got married and I brought all their things home with me so they could whisk away to their Hawaiian Honeymoon. Included in these wedding items was the remnants of their cake. Three. Boxes. FULL.



Thus, I was left alone in an empty condo with 20lbs of contraband. The only thing keeping me from having my own honeymoon and making sweet love to that beautiful body of sweetness was the memory of throwing up at the wedding after having a little bit. Yes, I snuck some bites, I'm not gonna lie and say I learned my lesson a few weeks ago. At least this time I was able to limit myself (probably because my friends were there telling me I was making a horrific mistake) and promptly slipped away from the festivities ("I need to pee") to take a nice brisk walk through the moonlit vineyard (aka: high-tailed my ass out of earshot and tossed my cookies on some grapevines)

I took one box to work Monday and fed a chunk of it to the kids ten minutes before I left. It was win-win, really; I got rid of the goods and got the satisfaction of knowing their sugar frenzy kicked in as soon as my car rounded the corner. I pawned another box off on my women's group last night and the last box went to the other kid today. I'm glad it's all out of my hands because I don't trust myself to be alone with it for another day. The chemistry between us is just too much to bear and I can only be good for so long.

Pure Torture

Did I:
A)Dive face first into a bin of candy?
B)Burst into tears when offered free samples?
C)Die on the spot?
D)Murder any small children?

Surprisingly, no.


Will I be visiting The Jelly Belly Factory again? HELL NO.