Sand
I'm starting to think it's inevitable: sand WILL get under that bandage. If you look closely at this picture you'll see traces of Kua Bay's white sand, and this photo was taken after a hose down, a shower, and a probably-unnecessary dousing with hydrogen peroxide. I peeled off the multiple layers of waterproof bandages, relieved that under it all was this other mysterious stuff: Skin Shield, an invisible, flexible, waterproof "bandage" that I had painted on and let dry. I'm feeling reasonably protected from flesh-eating bacteria, but I have to say that the locals think that we haoles are ridiculously paranoid. Locals swim with little cuts and abrasions ALL the time, applying no bandages, liquid or otherwise. Nevertheless... If it protects my foot and allows me to have more fun at the beach, why not? (As a postscript: I later found the Bandaid brand waterproof bandage to be far superior to the other type I had brought with me!)
Rock & Roll
My foot took on some challenges today--- an afternoon in the surf at Kua Bay, and then an evening at Laverne's dancing to a great classic-rock band. So, for you dancers out there contemplating this surgery, let it be said here that this patient attempted, relatively successfully, to bust a move on the two-week anniversary of the surgery! I'm pretty pleased that I managed four or five dances--- not full energy, and ever-protective of my foot. Range of motion is a limitation, and pain centered under the ball of my foot. My worst fear was being stepped on. Fortunately, no one did, and fortunately, my husband continues to tolerate my foot across his lap, and I even get a little massage, too.
Sandals in Paradise
There are a lot of shoes and sandals in my closet at home, but not a lot that complement this recovery process. These Birkenstocks actually work because, as you can see, the central leather piece just misses the incision line. Still, walking is a laborious, thoughtful process, feet carefully placed, and constant attention given to trying to walk normally. Easier said than done: heel strike, normal transfer of weight from back to front across that problematic ball of the right foot. Every so often, particularly when my attention falters, I experience a sharp pain in the ball. Those sesamoid bones, I suppose. Perhaps something's trying to break free. Please, let it happen soon. Sauntering through the tourist zone in Kona, I needed frequent intervals with leg elevated. I am getting impatient!
Bandaged for the Beach
Confession... Just about every medical person I consulted discouraged swimming before the entire incision line was entirely healed--- 3-5 weeks. Now, I don't mean to take lightly the potentially horrific consequences of flesh-eating bacteria that proliferate, relatively speaking, in tropical water, but seriously folks, I was going to Hawaii and I was going to get in that water. So, the question was how best to protect myself. Here's some of the more realistic feedback... From my ER doc brother: "Slather it with Neosporin and go for it." From my physical therapist friend (who discouraged swimming): "The orthopedic office might have some Tegaderm." Ah, hah! A lead... Then, the PA at stitches-removal (who also looked askance at swimming) provided some of this magical Tegaderm film, a highly-adhesive transparent waterproof film. So, here I am bandaged for the beach. You can see the steristrips covered by a bit of gauze, with the Tegaderm film over all. Long story short: I went in the water, swam about and floated for a bit, and the dressing was not compromised. For an extra precaution, when I got out of the water I wiped down the entire dressing with an alcohol wipe. Survived my first swim! (Postscript: the Tegaderm film became compromised at the point where it contacted the thong of my sandal as I walked back to the car. After this day, I relied completely on over-the-counter liquid and adhesive bandages.)
I finally got to ride in one of those sweet little airport golf carts--- and what a relief! Walking slowly on the hard surface of Vancouver's beautiful international airport turned out to be more stressful than I had anticipated. By the time I climbed onto this rig, I was ready to elevate again. This was my first day without ice. Traveling and icing just seemed too complicated, and I hadn't want to risk confiscation of my favorite ice packs. Relying solely on elevation for pain relief worked just fine. It was easy to elevate on the car ride to Vancouver, at the restaurant with our son in Bellingham, Washington, and then on this jaunty golf cart. Fortunately, I got lucky on the plane...
Serendipity! As it turned out, my husband and I scored an empty window seat next to our two seats. This was an amazing piece of luck, allowing me to fidget about, curl up on one hip, switch to the other hip, sit in the window seat with my legs across the middle seat, elevate my leg on my husband's lap, lie down--- contort myself into just about every position but stand on my head. Actually, I think the flight would have been torture without the extra seat, and I would have had to get up constantly to prowl the aisle.
To reduce my risk of blood clots with air travel I took aspirin morning and evening for two days, and put the compression sock on before boarding the plane. Looks like I made it! Let the relaxation begin!
Driving
Yesterday I took a little one-mile test drive in my rural neighborhood. Stepped on the gas, stomped on the break, and that all felt fine. Perhaps it had something to do with the way my foot normally contacts the pedal--- and my Prius is an automatic, so really, there's very little for my right foot to do! When I thought of taking that 30 minute drive this morning to get my stitches removed, my main concern was the discomfort of pressure building up in my foot, and the accompanying pain. Obviously, there's no way to elevate the right leg while driving! My husband had more than enough to do today, and driving myself seemed like a reasonable risk, so I decided to go for it. No problem! Actually, the need to move my right foot motivated me to finally learn how to use my cruise control. It worked at 34 mph and also on the freeway, so my right foot was able to dance, stretch, and tap a jazzy beat, to help pump that blood out of my foot. I did fine!
Suture Removal
Mostly pain-free, I'm pleased to report. The sutures that were at the less mobile parts of the incision seemed to adhere, so there was a bit of pain when those were removed; most slid out painlessly. The PA who I met with seemed pleased with my healing progress. She put a few steri-strips on for good measure, and then I was off on my next adventure: acquiring a compression sock at a local prosthetics office.
Compression Sock Magic
I had no idea that acquiring a sock would be such a production. I thought I'd walk in, pick one off the rack, pony up the money, and be on my way. Well, no. It's an insurance-billable item, so they had to collect all the relevant info, I had forms to fill out, electronic signatures--- the works. After waiting a long time in an elegantly-appointed gold and burgundy waiting room (classical piano music, no magazines), I was ushered into a treatment room. More waiting. (In their defense, I could have made an appointment if I'd been less ignorant.) My "server" eventually arrived to take detailed measurements of my foot and leg. Finally, a medical-grade compression sock was stretched onto my leg, and WOW, I never would have guessed how good it would feel. Truly magnificent! Usually, a person acquires two socks at a time per leg; one for the leg and one for the laundry. Makes sense, but I'm glad I thought to inquire about the cost before sauntering out the door with two. That would have cost me 30% of the insurance-billed $140. Gasp! Considering it's limited period of usefulness in my life, I thought, one sock would be quite sufficient, thank you. Whew, narrowly missed that unnecessary charge.
As a relevant postscript to my driving comments, the drive home was absolutely amazing. I could not believe how comfortable my foot and leg felt, all because of one very expensive compression sock. Who knew?!
Air Travel
Confession: tomorrow is my birthday. Second confession: some days ago my husband and I happened upon some cheap fights (direct) from Vancouver, Canada to Kailua-Kona, Hawaii. It just so happens that we have good friend who lives in Kona. What better place to recuperate than on a friend's couch, yard, and at the beach? The five hour flight is the primary reason for the compression sock. I've also increased my aspirin intake. Medical folks worry about a blood clot, so I'll need to be up and about and stretching the foot on the flight. I'll have to figure out how to elevate the leg. Wonder if the folks in front of me will mind my foot in the air hovering over their heads...
Not much change to report, but each day my foot seems a bit better. Today I spent hours helping my parents prepare to sell their house, although my role was small and I took frequent ice and elevation breaks. As I sat on a plastic chair scrubbing the kitchen cabinets inside and out, I suddenly realized that I'd been sitting for quite awhile--- twenty minutes or more, perhaps--- and my foot had not developed it's usual throb and cry. It's easy for me to get frustrated and impatient, but I have to remind myself that it's only been nine days since the surgery. While I'd like to put my dancing shoes on and join my team for practice today, that's not realistic, and I'm actually recovering quite nicely!
