Tuesday, March 27, 2012

"Planter who's a fuck it?"

My left foot is doing A LOT better but it was touch and go there for a few weeks. At the worst moment - some time mid January - as I was crawling around my apartment, refusing to cry, I had to remind myself that no one ever died from plantar fasciitis.

"Planter who's a fuck it?" you ask?

It's ok - I had no idea what it was either. I explained to someone why I was limping, she said it sounded like plantar fasciitis and when I responded "Planter who's a fuck it?" she said to google "my foot hurts."

At this point there had been a mild to moderate pain and stiffness in my foot that had not gotten better after two weeks of "walking out" the pain. Actually it had gotten worse. Go figure. I had an ace bandage that provided some relief but mostly the thing that made it feel better was not being the fuck on it.

So, I web-diagnosed myself and the verdict did, indeed, come back with the dreaded PF. After extensive research (I think I went to like 8 or 9 websites) I decided that I could recover without seeing a doctor. I just needed to wear supportive shoes, stretch the muscles and buy shoe inserts! I was as good as healed.

So I stretched. I stretched it EVERY way there was to stretch. Sitting stretches, standing stretches, walking stretches. There was relief. At first. Maybe I was over-zealous (who??  ME???) and I went bat-stretch crazy. When I heard (and felt) a loud "POP!" one afternoon, I didn't think too much of it. Then my foot started to hurt a little bit extra. And no amount of stretching was making it feel better. In fact, the stretching was now making it feel worse.

"Could it be broken?" Asked a co-worker. I assured him that I had gone to WebMD and was certain that it was Plantar Fasciitis. "You're lucky,' he said "every time the internet diagnoses me I have terminal cancer."

It was the next evening that I abandoned using my feet. Crawling was my mode of transport. My foot was so swollen and couldn't stand any... ANY sort of weight to be on it. I cried myself to sleep. It was pathetic. The next day, after confessing to Megan that my food looked a little pregnant, I went to see a doctor.

She confirmed the Planter who's a fuck it diagnosis but said that I also had a pretty bad sprain of my inside deltoids as well. I relived the POP I had heard a few days ago. I hadn't even sprained my ankle in a cool way. I sprained it STRETCHING. Least sexy injury ever. Maybe second to getting whiplash from a mega sneeze. The sprain had to fully heal first before I could get the PF any better. She gave me an air-cast and I borrowed a cane from a friend and I had a new lease on walking! I was still way slow and gimpy, but I could move!

My sprain is good and healed and my foot as a whole it doing a lot better. I still have to wear sneakers with support insoles. One of the most important things to heal properly is to stretch the foot (maybe a bit more gently this time). The Doc prescribed stretching every day and showed me a few stretches to do. "Also, write out the whole alphabet with your foot. That will be a great exercise."

You guys... and this is the whole point of my story... every time I start in on my foot-alphabet, I get to the  "K" and I start spelling my last name. And don't even notice for another 4 or 5 letters. EVERY. TIME. Somewhere around the "H I J K" I fall into auto-mode and start spelling "Derka Derka Muhammad Jihad Allah"

Surprised? Amused? Concerned? I haven't decided.

1 comment:

Llewelyne said...

Happens to me all the time.