Frankenfoot

YES

This has been an interesting week. Fortunately, I don't remember much of it. Between the Morphine every 6 hours and the agonizing post surgical pain I believe I entered into a dissociative fugue state that left me with partial amnesia for events experienced during the fugue state time frame.

That's my theory anyway.

I remember the first night after surgery when the nerve block wore off about 10 hours too early. I was not prepared for the intense pain. Didn't I breeze through back surgery? Didn't I have abdominal surgery? Didn't I give birth to two children both of whom had complicated deliveries? Didn't I break this foot not once but three times recently?

Walks in the park compared to Frankenfoot.

On the morning after surgery I remember nausea overtaking me so suddenly that I projectile spewed all over the dining room table (yes, you heard me correctly), floor and kitchen cabinets since I could not run (let alone hobble) to the bathroom in time. Instantly, after I cleaned the barf up with bleach those familiar words came drifting down the stairs which I had not yet been able to even think about navigating...

"I went POOOOOOOPIE?"

I remember calling up to The Teenager asking if she made it to the potty this time?

"Sort of."

Uh oh.

I don't remember going up or down those stairs hauling bleach but I do remember cleaning up the "pooooooopie."

On day two after I had pressure washed my kitchen with puke I remember someone delivering a big Thanksgiving dinner to my door that my friend BJ had so carefully arranged for us to receive. Unfortunately, it was all frozen, including the turkey which also needed to be cooked. BJ was livid.

"That's what you get when you leave a man in charge," she fussed.

Before I knew it she was banging on my door with a huge pot roast, potatoes, carrots, gravy, rolls and a giant ham with pineapple rings decorating it and still fuming about the "damned frozen turkey."

Two days after the surgery was Thanksgiving day and I felt well but not well enough to go to dinner at Mama Mia Maria's. I was able to make breakfast and lunch for the kids.

Around dinner time, however, agonizing ankle pain overtook me and i was unable to weight bear.

At all.

The teenager was crying because she was hungry. After all it had been nearly four hours since lunch.

Dear Lord.

I popped a Morphine, 600mg of Motrin and walker-hopped to the stove and made grilled cheese sandwiches for Thanksgiving dinner.

Around 7 pm neighbors delivered a real Thanksgiving dinner to our door which we were all too tired and too full of cheese to eat.

And the ankle pain was relentless. I figured I had a blood clot until BDDW called me and told me he had had a revelation regarding the ankle pain.

'It's the boot. Take it off. Ice and elevate your ankle and try as much range of motion as you can tolerate."

Scuba diving anyone?

I so love it when I have friends who practice medicine on the side. BDDW was 100% correct. Within 24 hours I could walk again.

Today I got my gross dressing changed and my first glimpse of Frankenfoot. The doctor was not pleased with the boot induced ankle pain story especially when he saw the flipper boot that I had been given pre-operatively.

I left the office with a boot that actually fit my size 6 1/2 foot and a nice, clean dressing.

WOOT!

In the past few days since I've been off the pain medicine and able to ambulate without agony I have passed the time by watching The Last Of The Mohicans, My Left Foot, Alice's Restaurant, The Constant Gardener, The Stand, and the first seasons of Storage Wars, Law and Order SVU and The Walking Dead. Yes, the first seasons in their entirety.

I'm beginning to relate to the zombies who are referred to in The Walking Dead show as, "the walkers." Not only do I have a Frankenfoot that would qualify me for the job I am also brainless after three days of Netflix.

Next week sutures come out. In the meantime, the foot specialist instructed me to move my toe as much as possible. I told him I could already move it up and down but not side to side.

The doctor nearly fell off of his stool laughing.

"Toes don't move side to side," he howled.

"I beg to differ! I'm certain I could move my toes side to side!" I informed him.

"Bwahahahaha." The man is choking with laughter now.

"It's been so long since you've had any movement in that foot you can't even remember how toes are supposed to move," he informs me.

Yeah well...I bet my zombie friends can move their toes from side to side.

Those who have toes, that is.