So many of my friends and family have been asking about what’s going on with my foot, especially after I dramatically vented on Facebook about all my woes. So, here’s the story.
This summer, I told myself that I needed to get in shape, and for some reason, decided that I was going to start running. Honestly, why I decided this is beyond me, since I’ve never liked to run. EVER. And always have thought that running must be the most boring sport. And on top of that, I’ve never been very good at it. So, crazy as it was, I started running, and even crazier was the fact that I really started to like it. Scott got me an arm band for my iPhone, and we even invested in a double BOB jogging stroller (which we LOVE).
I was running off and on, never super consistently, but I was definitely able to go further and further. Once Carter started preschool in September, I started running 2-3 times during the week with my friend Cameron, whose daughter is in Carter’s class. Now that I had a partner, I was running much more consistently, and Scott and I even started doing long runs together on the weekends. I’d do 3-4 miles each run during the week, and had done a few 6 mile runs on the weekends.
However, in late September, I started noticing part of my left foot hurting while I ran. It was never enough to make me stop, but I noticed it every step. At first, it only hurt when I run. A few weeks later, it started to hurt when I walked. About a week after that was the first time that it hurt when I was just sitting there. I realized that it was getting worse, and decided that I might actually need to do something about it.
While there are many downsides to being married to a resident physician (long hours, beepers that go off in the middle of the night, etc), there are some perks. We know lots of other residents, from many different specialties. So I called up my friend Leigh Anne, and asked if her husband Hal, an orthopaedic surgery resident, could take a look at it. He took a look and thought that I needed to officially go see someone and get some x-rays. Luckily, he just emailed one of his attendings and asked if he could fit me into his schedule the next day. Which he did! (THE PERKS!)
I saw Dr. Parekh in his office and had an x-ray, but there wasn’t much to see. Based on my physical exam, he thought I probably had a fracture in my 5th methatarsal…think, bone connected to your pink toe that runs the length of your foot. To make the next long month a short story, I then had an MRI and later, a CT scan. The radiology department and Dr. Parekh did not agree on my diagnosis, based on the scans. After my initial MRI, Dr. Parekh said that I would need surgery on my foot, resulting in 3-4 weeks of non-weight bearing time…think crutches or a knee scooter. (And yes, you can laugh out loud imagining me on a knee scooter. I did!) I would then be in a boot for another 4 weeks after that. That was when my freak-out happened. How in THE WORLD was I supposed to take care of my family in that kind of state? A CT scan later revealed that the fracture (which radiology still did not think was there) did not require surgery.
Next, Dr. Parekh prescribed me an orthotic that would be custom made to my foot, be worn in my shoe, and would be like a removable and walkable cast that would help my fracture heal. It only took FOREVER to get the orthotic, and then after a weekend of wearing it, it was just killing my heel. On the MRI, the radiology department saw a stress fracture on my heal (which Dr. Parekh did not, of course, agree with), but since I had not had pain there, there was “nothing to worry about.” That is, until I got an orthotic that pushed on my heel. I then went back to the orthotic place, had it adjusted to not hurt my heel, and left with high hopes. Only to realize that by the end of that day of wearing it, it STILL hurt my heel.
So, sadly, about a month and a half later, my foot saga is continuing. I may be going back to have my orthotic adjusted some more. I may be going back to Dr. Parekh to see about an alternate treatment plan. I may just find a large knife, a bottle of hard liquor, and just cut the foot off to end my misery.
I know, I know, it’s really not that bad. I don’t have cancer. This isn’t preventing me from taking care of my family. I’m not going to die from this. But it IS affecting my quality of life. Just when I was excited about running and being in shape, this stuff happens. I’ve been to a zillion doctor’s appointments, and finding someone to watch the kids is such a hassle. I haven’t had those endorphin highs from running, and I’ve also gained weight from not exercising. Put on top of all that, I am also one who eats when I feel sorry for myself. Not a good combination.
After a mini-breakdown, I am back on the wagon though. And I have put my rose-colored glasses back on. I may not be able to run the Derby mini-marathon in the spring like I had hoped, but I am going to stop feeling sorry for myself! Most of the time, anyway.
So, that’s the story of my foot saga. Turned out way longer than I thought, and I even felt like I was not including all the details.
For old time’s sake, I’m going to reminisce over these pictures that we took on my last long run before this saga started. Here we are at Herndon Park, where we ran with the kids one Saturday morning. Oh, the good times…