The Wheel of Time turns and today I found myself staring at this ungodly x-ray of the screws and plates in my leg. Two plates and – from what we can count – nineteen screws!

After such a long wait through registration and imaging at the hospital, the reality of it was overwhelming. An assistant cut off the temporary cast made of gauze and ace bandage around a plastic shell a little too quickly for my taste. Then proceeds to have the nerve to ask me to pick up my own leg out of the decimated wrappings! Lying on a hospital bed and lifting my leg was never so terrifying.

The surgeon did indeed make two incisions to piece my leg bones back together, each at least six inches long. They seemed to be healing well and without infection, but the next torture was to remove the staples. About three dozen in all, and they came out one by one by one. Ouch.

My toe muscles… well the muscles just below the toes actually – like the ones you don’t ever normally know exist – have been aching for awhile now and I couldn’t figure out why. But now ooglling at my foot sans staples and cast, I figured it out. The temporary cast allowed my foot to dangle down a bit, too far actually, into plantar flexion or pointing of the toes and foot. I remember the warning they gave us about that in nursing last semester. The foot naturally relaxes into that position but left to its own devices and unsupported can be detrimental to rehabilitation.

The assistant was as aware of this fact as I was and slowly pressed my foot back into dorsiflexion or pointing the toes and foot back towards the body, keeping it that way as he wrapped my new red-colored plaster cast on.

We had not gotten to see the original x-ray of the break and so asked to see it today, but it wasn’t nearly as impressive as this one. You could see a few of the splinters that were once my fibula, but an uneducated eye doesn’t immediately notice what was wrong with the tibia until shown.

When we inquired as to whether the apparatus holding my leg together would come out, they said probably not. I can just hear the bells and whistles going off at the next airport I visit. lol

The doc keeps sneakily lengthening the time I’m to be off my feet. Originally, the day of the surgery he said 6-8 weeks. When I saw him post-op, he said definitely 8 weeks with no weight. Today the tune changed yet again, as he said that it might be 8-10 weeks, depending on the healing process because “its not a usual ankle fracture, by any means.”

Before even seeing this x-ray, my husband had been teasing me with the infamous line from Star Wars referring to Darth Vadar, and we would laugh, but in reality I sort of am “more machine now than man.”

If only it were all an April Fool’s joke…

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