This is the inside of Inside Cat's right ankle. I am particularly pleased by the orderliness of the repair. You can see the plate and all eleven screws. I have so many in my thin little tibia there because I broke it in two places. As the doctor said to me, "When you do something, you commit, huh?" Yeah.
So Friday we went to the part of Pill Hill that is by the river. You know, the part you can get to by gondola. See, a long time ago someone donated the top of a westside Portland hill to the University of Oregon. The university built a medical teaching hospital on it. And a dental school. The Veteran's Hospital, too. And the Shriners built their facility on it. And the famous Doernbecher's Children's Hospital was built up there for children with cancer. And there's the Casey Eye Institute. I think there are a couple other institutions of a medical nature crammed up there, too. The whole thing is lousy with hospitals and parking garages. You drive up this steep winding road in a long line of cars to get to "Pill Hill." I know it well. Our son had four surgeries up there when he was a boy, four summers in a row. Finally, a few years ago, additional property was obtained at the bottom of the hill, by the river. Another medical center went up, and a Swiss-style gondola was built right over Interstate 5 so that people could float up and down, high over the houses and I-5, from the hospitals at the top to the medical center at the bottom. I got to ride on the gondola for my first doctor's visit, because the young woman who set the appointment for me failed to tell me exactly where my appointment was, so silly me, I went to the main hospital. I didn't see much, I was in a wheelchair and so my view was basically of sky. Rick said it was nice.
Eeeeeenyway, Friday at the bottom of the hill I got my cast/splint thing off and x-rays taken and my stitches pulled out and the surgeon came in and looked at the x-ray and declared it Fine and rattled off a bunch of instructions for me (both times I have met with him he has never touched or even looked at my actual foot. I assume he had to come into some kind of contact with it during surgery. Though he did have a resident in there with him who could have done it instead, so I suppose it is possible he has never touched my foot. I can't blame him, it is not a pretty sight).
Though my poor foot really was frightful, I was happy to see it again after three weeks. Yes, it's been three weeks; I can't believe it either. I'd show you a picture of the bruises and stitches and iodine stains with wisps of cotton stuck on but you'd just say ick and try not to look at it, so what's the point. Then the nurse came in and fitted me with The Boot. It's a fine thing, black and velcro all over. It has snazzy little air bags in it you can inflate and deflate for support, just like Air Jordans. It only weighs ten thousand pounds.
If it's been a while since you've broken anything, let me tell you how the world has changed. It used to be that doctors would use wet plaster and cotton and place a cast on you that remained for weeks and weeks. You would feel itchy underneath the thing and have to try using a long stick of some kind to get in there and get some relief. It used to be that you could not get your plaster cast wet or it would fall apart. It used to be that your cast would be signed by friends and family with snarky or sometimes sincere little get well wishes, and drawings by your talented friends. It used to be that your cast got grubby and an unfortunate smell would waft from it as the weeks went by. Then, finally, the doctor would scare you to death coming at you with his/her zippy little saw blade and the cast would be cracked open all the way down. You would get your appendage back and learn how to use the shriveled limb again.
Not any more, friends. We're well out of the Dark Ages. Now, long before healing is complete, you get The Boot. You are encouraged to take The Boot off and stretch your stiff muscles and work at regaining range of motion. You are allowed to remove The Boot to shower. You don't need to wear The Boot when you sleep. You can remove The Boot, prop your foot up and watch TV. You can scratch all you want. Seriously, it feels like a magic trick every time The Boot opens up and reveals that white cotton sock. There's my foot! I feel like I am cheating. It's wonderful.
Four more weeks of not putting any weight on it at all, though. Still a looooong way to go.
love,
cat
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