Tuesday, March 9, 2010
As September progresses, I was also progressing. Range of motion, strength and balance were all making a return to my life. Anyone who asked how I was doing got a sunny, cheerful response. I bought myself new shoes to celebrate moving out of the brace (omg, I felt naked without it!). I should have won an academy award for the amount of acting I was doing. The only people who knew I was still in a LOT of pain were my physical therapists and my surgeon, who prescribed a topical anti-inflammatory to help with the pain. I guess as far as everyone else was concerned, I just didn't want to talk about being in pain anymore. I was at the 9-10 month point, and starting to notice the changes in myself from the chronic pain. I wouldn't call it full fledged depression, but I did notice that while I might PRETEND to be interested in a friend's story, in my head, I couldn't believe some of the things people were complaining about. The pain was starting to change my perspective on life. And whether that's a good thing or not remains to be seen. So back to the pain. Ever since the day my ligament was repaired, all I had heard was that the pain was "normal". Normal, normal, normal. But as October began to slip away, and the topical prescription was having no effect, I bumped up my next appointment with my surgeon. If there is one thing that I plan to take away from this experience, it's to trust my body, and trust my brain. My body was telling me that my ankle still hurt. And I don't mean like, oh, maybe I'll take a Tylenol. I mean, pain no different from BEFORE I went through that surgery. Nothing was different, and nothing was better. And my brain was telling me that something was still very, very wrong. Dr. McGorgeous came into the exam room where I was prepared for a battle. And he took the words right out of my mouth. He said when he saw my name show up on his patient list that day, he thought about canceling the appointment and just sending me straight for an MRI. And this is why I love Dr. McGorgeous so much. Because even when I doubt myself, he doesn't. He BELIEVES me when I say it hurts, and I've seen enough doctors to know that he honestly wants me to get better. So at the end of October, I ended up back in the MRI machine. Only this time I was at a different hospital. No soothing music, no warm blanket, no nice nurses. I was so cold, and shaking so hard, that the tech came over the speaker and told me to "quit moving, the pictures are coming out terrible". Awesome. This is after they ran 1.5 hours late, and told me to "go for a walk". Hilarious. And I spend another night wondering what those pictures were going to show, and waiting for Dr. McGorgeous to tell me my fate.