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Friday, May 8, 2009

Whereas my usual routine used to be going to the Infectious Disease office to get my blood drawn and to collect my cooler of antibiotics, I now take a usual pilgrimage to the Physical Therapist office at Baptist Hospital. 

Just like at the Wound Care Center, there is a lovely collection of people with terrible stories to tell. There is a guy I see regularly who lost his leg in a hit-and-run accident 24 years ago.  He wants my scooter so he can use it in the middle of the night to get to the bathroom without bothering with his wheelchair.  He is pretty much in a constant process of strengthening or “repairing” one part of his body.  Just when one thing gets better, another part starts to deteriorate.  Nevertheless, he is always in a great mood. 

Margarita shows me the most mind-blowing things about my foot.   Each tiny bone and tendon functions together so beautifully—until someone smashes one part to smithereens in a freak ladder accident.  Then all of a sudden, it is like a big line of dominos standing up on end . . . someone knocks over one domino and the rest fall down in defeat.  So now, we work each day to slowly tinker away at each part of the foot until it performs in perfect unison once again. 

I have a whole selection of exercises designed to strengthen all of the affected areas of my foot.  Some involve surgical tubing, while others employ the use of wooded wedges.  Each piece of equipment is ingenious in its simplicity.  My favorite tool is this big blue plastic saucer.  The saucer has a ball screwed into the bottom of it.  My job is to roll my foot forward and back so that the front and back edge of the saucer gently touches the ground.  Later, I do the same thing side to side.  It is a killer but it really works my foot in so many places.

Anyway—Margarita says that she has never seen an injury like mine in the 28 years that she has been doing physical therapy.  She is pleased by my progress and thinks that (if everything proceeds without incident), I should be walking in about 6 months.   Patience . . . patience . . . patience . . .

I feel like I am making things up because every day I have a different pain than the day before.  Thank the Lord, the majority of the pains seem to have fairly innocent explanations and are just part of the process.  Let the healing begin.

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