Conquering Vertigo

Stress fractures my life, or at least my foot

Well, so here's the truth according to the medical dictionary: A fracture is the breaking of a bone into two or more pieces.

Anyone who was not surprised when I developed a stress-related ulcer during my first year of pastoring, also will not be surprised that the fractured bone in my left foot is, yes, a Stress Fracture.

Ballerinas and professional athletes usually develop the sort of fracture I sport. Alas, I am neither. It was, though, a sports related injury. While in physical therapy for injuries received when run over by a Nissan Armada while riding my bycicle, I broke a bone in my foot.

There was this machine they use for Olympic skiers, see. You leap sideways from one foot, land on the other, and then slide (in a sideways crouch) along a slick surface while wearing cloth booties. Extra points for doing it eyes shut and not falling, and it strengthens your feet, ankles, knees and sense of balance.

The repetitve landing and sliding on the left foot caused the outside bone to begin to fracture and break.

I finished the therapy with good marks and a massage, wondering why the hell my left foot hurt when I walked or ran. I just iced it down and took the dogs around Rice University.

Look at a convenient naked left foot -- your own, someone else's, or the ones pictured above. The bone that runs along the outside of your foot, connecting with the little toe, is the one in question, known in august, learned circles as the 5th metatarsal.

Mine flares out abnormally as it stretches back towards the ankle, because it is broken. But did I realize it was broken?
No.
Did I see the doctor back in July and August, when it started hurting?
No.
Did I see the doctor in September and October, when walking or jogging with the dogs brought me home limping, in great pain.
No.
I went through my wedding, outside, on 3-inch sandal heels, trying not to limp.
I moved to San Francisco and took long walks up and down the hills, pretending my foot didn't hurt.

Finally, The Man noticed the increasing limp, and began to lobby for a doctor's appointment. Then, one evening while jogging up and down the logs on the beach cliff trail (see previous blog: The 244 Steps), I limped home in tears.

Richard sat next to me, "What's wrong?" he asked tenderly.
"My foot feels like it is breaking," I said, breaking being the only description that seemed to fit.
He removed my running shoes and socks. The outer edge of my left foot was swollen, hot and red.
Gentle probing brought more tears, as well as a doctor's appointment.

Next time I have a recurring, unexplained pain, I'm just going to go to the doctor and save myself 6 months of making things worse.
New Year's Resolution, #4.
Wonder how long until I break it?
:-)

posted by Woman In Love @ 10:37 AM