I’ve been hobbling around on my foot for a year and a half, which I thought was just a twisted ankle taking too long to heal. PSYCH! It was really a partial rupture to my Achilles that after every conservative therapy possible, required surgery on May 31 to repair/rebuild. And removal of the bone spur jutting out of my heel. Go big or go home, right, bitches?
I learned a number of things during my post-surgical recovery:
- the anesthesia you can get will be so good, you’ll have no idea who dressed you after surgery, how you got into the car after surgery, and whether or not you were wearing a bra the first few days after surgery
- when entering your house after surgery via the practical (for the temporarily one-legged) but not very graceful method of butt scooting, refrain from placing your hands on the metal door frame on a hot, Summer day
- if you must enter your house butt-scooting and placing your hands on the metal door frame plate on a hot, Summer day, be sure to do it when there is plenty of anesthesia still coursing through your body so that you barely feel the burn
- Christian Louboutin is missing out on huge bank by not catering to the post-surgical market
- just because you’ve had surgery, doesn’t mean you can’t play “who wore it better?”
- dogs make the best nursing assistants
- never start taking pain killers if you don’t also take stool softener
- the maximum number of days one can go without a shower before smelling oneself is no longer than 3 days — tops!
- there will always be some entrepreneur that will make you feel guilty about recovery, and shame your (literally) lame ass to get off of it
- your knee scooter makes an excellent margarita caddy, after a long day of sitting around a baseball field watching your kid play
- when your friends extend kindness – accept it
Because I was going to be fairly immobile — and not able to use my left foot at all — for 6 weeks, my friend Rebecca set up a Meal Train for me. She invited friends from many of the sports families in our community to participate. I protested this and Rebecca replied with “just shut it and let people do something nice for you for a change.”
So I shut it. The kindness started the evening of my surgery, with a delivery of fried chicken, mac ‘n cheese, and probably some other yummy stuff that I can’t remember now. I barely recall my friend Michelle bringing it by, but I’m pretty sure I gave her a hug from my horizontal location on the couch. Sorry, Michelle, if I was braless…I can’t seem to remember if I was wearing one after surgery.
There were kind gestures and messages…
There were also special deliveries…
We were well fed 31 days – everything from full meals to gift cards for local restaurants:
On July 3, the final delivery from the Meal Train arrived. One of my friends replied to a post with this:
What a fabulous reminder of the kindness, compassion and community outreach that was exemplified by our last supper. All our suppers, really.