Return of the boot !

Ello, ello, ello,

Yes it's been a while hasn't it ?
I was so astonished to see that I'd had over 4000 hits when I logged on last night !
Thanks to all of you that have read my woeful tale :-) I have been quite miserable in some of the posts I've made ,I noticed, but then It's been a crap year for me ! A Lisfranc fracture is not funny & I'm not superstitious but I do find myself being careful around mirrors & ladders these days !
It has been probably the most difficult & challenging year of my life, not just because of the foot....
Where shall I start to bring you all up to date?
I think where I last left you will probably make the most sense....

Sadly I haven't been away pirouetting on the foredeck, or trekking up Mount Kilimanjaro :-(

When I returned from my road trip to the US last October, I learnt that my dear Grandfather Pete was seriously ill, so ill in fact he died just three weeks later. This event was devastating to me, more so than the consultation with Mr Ritchie last April when I learnt the full extent of the damage to my right foot.

We were best friends you see, really true best friends.
When together we were always in cahoots, giggling together about the silly daft things that our mutual sense of humours connected on, often hiding away together when I was a young child in his woodworking shed from my quite strict Gran when she was on the war path !
In fact I think my Grandfather gave me my love of the sea & all things salty ! As soon as I was old enough to walk he got me a life jacket & took me sea fishing with him off of the coast of Hastings in East Sussex. This was the way I would spend most of my summer holidays with him right up until the age of 13 or 14. My grandfather taught me all of the essential things that a young lady should know, like how to thread lugworm onto a fishing hook, how to cast a decent line, how to tell the difference between a Flatty & a Plaice (fish!) & of course how to tell a decent pint of beer from a wrong 'un', although not this lesson until I was of the legal age to consume alcohol of course :-)
I experienced my first man overboard with him on Emma 1 (of course it was me) & my first rescue by the RNLI when the new radio he'd installed on Emma 2 failed when we were out at sea. My grandfather found this event most exciting & whilst I was being uplifted from the boat by the RNLI, he got his camera out to photograph the entire proceedings- LOL

So it all came as a huge shock to me, to lose him so quickly & unexpectedly, the foot actually became second priority to my grief for the best part of six months. He'd appointed me as his executor in his will as my Gran had died 14 years previously. I carried out all of his wishes as best as I could & then after much soul searching I decided to leave my birth place- Tunbridge Wells for a fresh start. I found a house in Addlestone, Surrey, closer to my work, my son, the rest of my family & my man. Yes, my man did hang around (see earlier posts about my worry & self doubt) & he has proven himself to be my rock during this difficult period. I often wonder at his unwavering support & faith in me as he'd only known me for a few months before my life was turned upside down.
I moved to Addlestone on April the 4th, the house is lovely but a project. It needs extensive redecoration & repair as well as having a garden that needs designing from scratch. So I spent the first three weeks in April decorating & cleaning the house with my man in earnest & we travelled to London on April 22nd to watch a great friend of mine compete in the London marathon. The foot was behaving well, a little tender at the end of the day but that was about it. I discussed climbing Mt Snowdon with my friends that evening, I planned to join the local gym the following week & my man had just booked me a trip to Hawaii in October this year to celebrate my 40th birthday.

Then on April 27th after a few days of feeling a little more tender than usual I got out of bed & upon standing I experienced acute pain through my 2nd & 3rd toes. I presumed that I'd just overdone it, I took some Ibuprofen (Aadvil to all you Americans ) & continued with my day hoping for the best.  On the Monday evening (30th) I caved in & drove myself to the local hospital casualty department, by now walking was extremely difficult, I couldn't bend my big toe at all & the pain wasn't responding to the Ibuprofen. I had a standard X-Ray & it didn't show any fractures (neither did the one I had last September) but the doctor decided to refer me to the fracture clinic the following Friday as a precaution in view of my history. I declined the offer of Tramadol & decided to persevere with the Co Codamol & Ibuprofen that I had stocked up at home.
After driving some 700 miles for work over the next three days I arrived at the Fracture clinic sore & feeling slightly unwell. I met Mr Monk- an Orthopaedic & Trauma consultant who browsed my X-Rays with considerable interest & read the letters I'd taken with me that detailed the details of my original injuries, previous surgery & then the second fracture in September. He informed me that he was very experienced in Lisfranc injuries & expressed sympathy at my latest predicament. He recommended an MRI examination & a referral to his private clinic as the current waiting list for the NHS service was around six weeks. Luckily my health insurance provider approved this & it was arranged for the following Tuesday (8th May). Mr Monk also strapped my foot back into an Aircast boot & presented me with another pair of crutches, precautionary but essential as was the ban on driving he explained :-)
Oh the irony wasn't lost on my either, the date ? Well it was the 4th May, exactly 13 mths since my original injury..........
So I had the MRI & met with Mr Monk this evening for the results, the good news, no fractures detected, the not so good news was that the radiologist omitted my toes from the scan ! Mr Monk puzzled over my symptoms, he commented that I was a mystery as both he & the expert radiologist he'd asked to interpret & report on the MRI were convinced as was I that I'd developed a stress fracture in either my 2nd, 3rd or 4th metatarsal. A second MRI of the front of my foot has now been booked for next Monday (14th May) with a further follow up consultation booked for the 15th with Mr Monk.  Morton's Neuroma was also mentioned by Mr Monk as a possible diagnosis;

Morton's neuroma is a condition that affects the nerve between the toes. The nerve becomes irritated and compressed, which results in severe pain on the ball of the foot and at the base of the toes.
Morton's neuroma usually affects the nerve between the third and fourth toes. It is rare for more than one nerve or foot to be affected apparently.

So A further week of minimum weight bearing, in the Aircast & no driving awaits me now. I have limited Internet access at home due to no WiFi as yet so I re subscribed to SKY TV today just to relieve some of the boredom. I will have to sit on my hands to stop myself from getting up & grabbing a paintbrush or doing any more of the various DIY jobs that are outstanding in the house. I must admit I'm now doubting myself, I pondered on the way home if the pain really was that bad or was it just me being nervous about the foot ? When I got home I removed the boot & tried to walk around the house, yes the pain is still there, between my 1st & 2nd metatarsal, maybe not as acute as it was but enough to prevent me from walking normally. So I will just have to await the verdict on Tuesday.

I also received the results from my bone densitometry scan (DEXA) that my GP referred me for a month ago this week. It appears that I do have signs of Osteopaenia in my lower spine so it's a lifestyle change for me, from now on a careful diet & a lifetime's supply of Acal D3 (Prescription Strength Calcium & Vit D)! When my time comes to enter the Menopause then I will need a rescan & possibly more of the Alendronic Acid that I had following the fracture last September (Oh the joy !).

The positives; Well it's an Olympic year here in Blighty, Oh & we have the Queens Diamond Jubilee to look forward to ! Yay !!!!!!!!!!!!!

Good old NHS

With an icepack on my foot & it supported by the crew members coats, Peter the skipper drove me the 2 hr journey back to the local A & E in Tunbridge Wells, I found a seat & still in Musto & Dubarry's along with my bag of foulies & sailing gear I began to wait.....
After a while I hopped over to the reception desk & enquired if I should sign in or something ? The receptionist beckoned to a seat in front of her & began to take down my details, the foot was growing nicely at this point, along with the throbbing. After completing a few basic questions, nature of problem, name address etc, she then informed me I'd need to make my way to the minor injuries unit, which was a five minute walk or so through a few corridors. I politely asked if there was a wheelchair available, "no, sorry we're short of those today" she replied, so I picked up my bag & began to hop whilst holding on to whatever secure props along the way i could reach. Luckily, a rather nice chap saw the size of my now rather colourful & odd shaped foot & offered me his arm. On arrival in the MIU, he also found me a wheel chair & sat me down, passing the paperwork I'd been given to the reception desk, by now it was around 3 1/2 hrs since I'd done the deed.
After about another hour or so, I was feeling pretty sick with the pain, a Dutch woman (who was there with her daughter who'd fallen from her horse & had suspected concussion) noticed my discomfort & highlighted this to the medical staff. Along came a young doctor who after enquiring about allergies etc, gave me a couple of co codamol, all the while still no one had looked at or examined said foot !
Eventually after a takeaway from Wagamamas (also kindly provided by the Dutch lady) I was taken through for assessment, by now it was almost 10pm, 4 hrs after I'd arrived ! After X-ray lovely young doc, confirmed I'd broken a metatarsal & prescribed a back slab plaster, some co codamol & an outpatients appt at the fracture clinic in 4 days time.
Shortly after this, I was greeted by the lovely smiling face of a chap from the Phillipines, "Hi I'm Johnathan & I'm your plasterer" was his opening line, I resisted the urge to respond with a quip about his screeding skills. After a brief discussion about the size of the cast, I explained that the sailing trousers I was wearing were new & I was reluctant to lose them due to them not being able to be removed, Johnathan scratched his head for a while & looked a little embarrassed. A flash of inspiration then led me to explain to the lovely Johnathan that I had my very baggy foulie trousers (heavy duty sailing waterproofs) in my bag & suggested that if I removed the ones I was wearing until he had finished his 'plastering' I could then put these foulie's on to go home in !
Johnathan left me in the cubicle, I proceeded to squirm around on the hospital bed, whilst trying to wriggle my trousers down until they fell off of my feet. I then grabbed the hospital gown that had been left to spare my blushes, wrapped it around my waist & waited........
When Johnathan reappeared he looked a little embarrassed & explained that he needed me to lie face down on the bed, with the offending foot hanging over the end. Again I squirmed myself into position & found myself face down, with the hospital gown covering my bum & thighs & one leg bent up at the knee with Johnathan now sitting at the end of the bed with his bucket of water & plaster of Paris at the ready to begin his sculpture. Up to now, my foot had been permanently in a pointed toe position that would make most ballet dancers proud, Johnathan did his best to bend it back into a normal angle/alignment with my ankle & proceeded to slab the plaster around the back & heel to hold it in place. I grimaced & gulped, blushing red with embarrassment, becoming tearful & emotional with the pain in front of everyone was not an option, I'd already decided.
Plastering finished, I then pulled my foulies out of the bag, bright red dungarees with the grey all weather bum & knee patches, normal for sailing but obviously not really Tunbridge Wells fashion, there was no choice I concluded as I pulled them on, again squirming, a few grunts escaped as I managed to wriggle into them & sat upright. Armed with crutches I then wobbled precariously out of the cubicle, fully appreciating every pound of the 9 3/4 stones I weighed. How on earth am I supposed to be able to support myself & be mobile I wondered to myself as my biceps throbbed & shook in protest !
Dutch lady had become quite concerned about me & so kindly offered to take me home once my cast had set. Home is a maisonette contained within a three floor converted Victorian building, requiring a steep flight of stairs to get to the front door & then further conquering of another staircase to get to the loo...........
After getting me inside, Dutch lady left me with her contact details, along with a bar of Galaxy chocolate (emergency provisions) & departed. I was indeed deeply grateful for the kindness this lady who had in fact been a total stranger up until a few hours earlier, had shown me. Thank god for the good Samaritans on this planet !