Foot Hold

One year ago today, I broke my foot. Weary-brain-convinced that I was on the first rise, I turned around on my staircase and stepped down. In fact, I was on the fourth of 13 stairs, 19th-century steep. I landed in a seated position on my foyer floor. My left foot was twisted under the right side of my derriere. My body was entirely unprepared. I had no time to use my hands to break the fall (probably just as well, might have broken an arm.) It was sickeningly painful.

I freaked out. I was afraid to move or be touched. As I screamed at Scott to stay away (he was trying to help) while my kid chimed in to "leave Mummy alone. Don't touch her!", the common wall neighbours were obviously perplexed. (I learned this a couple of days later when I met them on the porch...)

The next day my (very kind) manager came to take me to the hospital. Stupidly, I'd waited out the whole night at home as Scott had convinced me I was over-reacting. By the time the doctors saw my foot, it - and my ankle - had swollen to 3 times its normal size. They took xrays and ultrasound and told me I had a particularly bad sprain. They gave me crutches and a prescription for a boot cast. When things were practically as ugly a week later, my family doctor had a look and freaked out. She was convinced it was broken and sent me to a clinic to be retested. Those tests revealed a minor break, in addition to the torn ligaments and tendons the hospital doctor had already diagnosed.

I spent 3 weeks at home thinking constantly about, and documenting, ways to ameliorate the healing process. I did 90 minutes of non-weight bearing yoga per day. I lay with my legs elevated (often right up the wall) for hours. I took supplements to diminish inflammation, used analgesic creams, had physiotherapy three times a week for 3 months. I had a lot of time to think.

Before I broke my foot, I imagined I'd go crazy if I couldn't walk, as per usual, an hour plus per day. I did not imagine how hard it would be to get up and down the stairs on my ass or the complexity involved in making food on one limb. I did not imagine the near impossibility of taking a shower. I couldn't imagine that I'd have ongoing foot pain for 8 months (though totally bearable, rather unpleasant) or that my brain would be really fuzzy for a good 6 weeks.

But I'm here to say that I did not go crazy (at least not over relative immobility). I did become a proficient online shopper. (If only I'd known how to knit!)

The great thing about Thanksgiving is that you don't have to cebrate the holiday in order to celebrate the concept.

So, here's a list of the things (in no particular order) I continue to be grateful for, when I remember this time last year:

• That my workplace was incredibly accommodating and facilitated my ability to work at home.
• That my manager took me to the emergency room.
• That I didn't break something more serious.
• That I managed to find zen, in my own small way, in being unable to walk normally for a few weeks.
• That I had a great house in which to convalesce.
• That I healed incredibly quickly, in the scheme of things (according to doctors and my physiotherapist)
• That it didn't happen in January, which would have required me to negotiate everything in snow and ice.
• That my husband and kid were supportive (and very helpful with the logistics).
• That I had Xmas to look forward to.
• That I live in a place with universal health care.
• That I have good benefits.
• That I could afford the deductibles and supplemental care without stress.
• That I know how to use yoga therapeutically.
• That I was also able to use it to maintain my sanity and to give me activity and pain relief.
• That I have many friends, including those in my online community, who provided ongoing support.
• That the injury gave me perspective in a fairly benign way.

This Post is All Over the Map

A couple of updates before I consign myself to sewing:

The Foot:

Thank you all so much for emailing and commenting to find out how I've been feeling. Until about a week ago, while mobile, I had pain much of the time. Extremely happily, in the past week, that pattern has been shifting and the pain is greatly reduced.

I have regained most of my flexibility, though to use it all, I do hit patches of soreness even now. My strength is almost back to normal. I can walk long distances. Note: I generally don't walk more than one way to work i.e. no more than an hour a day. I find that a) the weather is terrible and it takes more consciousness to walk safely - foot injury or no and b) too much walking overtaxes the tendon where it meets my shin.

Balance is the weak point, it would appear. I'm fine when I stand on both feet, but when I do yoga to maintain/ increase balance on the left side, it's quite apparent that the left is not on par with the right side. Mind you, my left has always been weaker for balance than the right. It's just more evident these days.

What's been surprisingly hurty is my shin and lower leg in general. The tone there was very compromised in the 3 weeks I couldn't move. It's also the place where the injured foot ligaments and tendon attach to. That's the area that's finally calming down. According to my physiotherapist, whom I've now stopped seeing, at a certain point of injury healing, one hurts whether one moves or doesn't. In fact, the movement - which helps to redevelop strength and to create new muscle pathways - is necessary to finalize the healing. The key is knowing how far to go and how fast. Everyone is different. Even weekly, I noticed my healing was all over the map.

I'm not going to wear fun shoes any time soon. But, over all, I'd say I'm doing really well.

The Dress Form:

In a pique of frustration, I called the Fabulous Fit people yesterday to inquire about solutions to my foam fitting challenges. I am pleased to tell you that the woman whom I've been speaking with since the get-go (who intriguingly still didn't realize that my dress form had been shipped), offered excellent client service on the matter of fitting. She suggested I try a few things and then mentioned sending me a couple of extra breast foams (the one's I have are not up to the task, peeps). Apparently, she has cut up the foams if necessary, in the past, but she doesn't recommend that course of action so soon. Bizarrely, when I tried to put a bra on the form, the cups were swimmy but I couldn't do up the back. After hours of work and measuring, I was certain I'd recreated the correct underbust measurement, but it was somehow 2. 5 inches too big on the form. Let's just say it's not there yet. There's another option - not one I'm interested in pursuing at this point, which is a body wrap bustier. I don't think it's necessary, but at least it's there as a back up.


The Low Carb Experiment:

On the upside, I can't say I'm hungry. On the down side, I want to kill myself from boredom. How much meat and cheese can a person eat??? I've been extremely careful - almost non-consumptive - of sugar in its every form (you know, that thing I'd smack an old lady for, if she came between me and it). I've heard so many claims that this will diminish the urge to eat it after a couple of weeks. I regret to inform you, as I move into week 3, I want it as much as and as viscerally as I ever did. I now dream of cake. That other people eat.

Hilariously, when I do decide to eat a little treat - very rarely - I feel physically awful right afterwards. So I want it and it makes me sick. And I'm bored.

Have I ever mentioned that, in my book, boredom is almost the worst thing in the world.

I'm not going to go too far into this right now - I have a post brewing on the topic in detail - but I do feel there's something weirdly unbalanced about this. I am, while eating all the calories I generally do - though it's hard to get there some days, largely denying myself a whole food group. Of course, I eat the vegetables and the wine and the occasional bowl of berries. But seriously, I find it hard to vilify brown rice (a personal fave) and beans (something the old me ate much more frequently than I realized) and whole grain bread (and I don't even like bread).

Again, an experiment is just that. I'm intrigued by it more than anything else. BTW, note that I haven't mentioned any reduction in waist measurement as yet. (To determine this, I'm using, of course, a tape measure - my good friend, see above.) I'm not sure it's notable so far. I'm certainly not gaining any stomach mass, but it hasn't tipped into a visibly slimmer abdomen or looser waist fit in clothing. Remember, I'm not dieting and this isn't about weight loss per se. It's about a slenderer, more youthful, abdominal measurement.

So that's all I can say about me today.

Any thoughts or feelings about any of these items?

Feast or Famine

I'm writing this on my new MacBook Air, which is everything they say it is, and cute. If I were a computer, I'd want to be this one. My husband has really pulled it back from the edge after leaving me for dead (metaphorically) when I first sustained the foot injury. While he may not have taken it seriously at first, he's bucked up by massaging my ankle and leg, physiotherapy-style, for hours each evening, taking care of all the mobile-elements of family life (i.e., shuttling the kid) and gifting me with top of the line technology.

I think it's safe to say I'm going to postpone the divorce.

In the true spirit of Xmas, however, this post is not about the loot but about the food. For the last two days I have eaten a shocking variety of things that can only be deemed artery-blockers.

I'm not one of those people who frowns on gluttony. No ma'am. Give me your fried, crispy masses. Pastry that gleams with butter. My heart flutters at a perfect cake crumb. I can eat a round of brie.

Seriously. On Xmas eve, we had wild mushroom brie fondue that takes a pound of rinded cheese. Generally it serves 4 till they're stuffed beyond compare. M was sick, so she wasn't eating. Scott just humoured me by eating it. There was but a small amount left yesterday for me to pair with crackers while I drank a bottle of Vouvray (this is hard to find at a decent price and it's so clear and ringy, though far sweeter than the wine I generally choose). I drank it over 8 hours, fyi. This is to say nothing of the struesel cake I ate for breakfast yesterday morning. (Is anything better for breakfast than homemade coffee cake??).

The thing is that Scott's Xmas capon takes a zillion hours to cook. We were three, but he bought a 10 pound bird. Don't ask. In fact, we tried - on a whim, yesterday morning - to invite 8 people over to share it with us. Alas, they had already started to cook their own Xmas dinner at 10 am. Anyway, by 4 p.m. I was really hungry and I had to eat some ridiculous quantity of prosciutto.

By 7 p.m. the capon was juicy, delicious ready with roasted veggies. They managed to be soft on the inside and crunchy, oily on the outside. My fave combo. I won't lie - I ate an ounce of capon and half a pan of veggies - if you can call onions, carrots and potatoes soaked in grease "veggies".

The pan generally serves 6-8.

Scott and his friend of 35 years have a term to describe extreme, painful, disgusting first-world fullness. It's called "klunk" and you can use it as a verb or a noun or an adjective, your choice. To say I was klunk at this moment does not begin to express how I felt. I really thought I might throw up (which is a horrifying thing in my book). Scott felt my stomach and seemed alarmed by its distension.

At which point I decided I would never eat again.

I sense I'm about to break the fast (it has been 12 hours), but I'm going to do it with a hard boiled egg and a slice of cheddar. Though that cake continues to call. (Don't worry - I'm over it. I still feel vaguely nauseated, thankfully.)

Why am I telling you this? Why am I admitting to this horrendous level of gluttony? I'd like to say something like it's to make you feel better about your own holiday ingestion indiscretions, but who are we kidding?? I think it unlikely that any of you have crossed the line as I have. Maybe I'm looking for that one crazy reader who can match me in the stupid eating department? Maybe I am seeking absolution? Who can say.

So here's to hot water with lemon, green salad and chicken soup. Which reminds me, I have to transform those leftovers into a stew fit for a queen. Have I mentioned that my chicken soup is legendary?

A Booboo by Any Other Name...

As you know, but now reports can confirm, I have some things going on with my foot - namely a small break resulting from a rather severe (grade 3) sprain. That means my torn tendon and ligament actually caused a hairline fracture of my bone. Who knew that soft tissue rules??

Today I started physio therapy. My therapist, on hearing my story, seeing my test results and listening to my story was amazed at the state of my foot, ankle and leg. Don't mean to brag (or maybe I do, whatevs) but she said that "whatever I have done for the last 2 weeks" (i.e. yoga and yoga and elevation and ice and yoga and compression and 3000 mg of vit c and yoga) has resulted in tremendous healing over a very short period. Something tells me she's never broken part of her foot or she wouldn't say that 12 days is a "short period".

Perhaps I should hide this element of my personality (is that possible?) but I LOVE to excel. Give me a test and will problem solve till the bell rings. No mind if I haven't the vaguest idea of what's going on. Somehow, that doesn't seem to bother me.

I'm a strange sort of competitive - as I compete only with myself (and rich people I haven't managed to outpace :-)). I go into an enjoyable, almost meditative state when I decide I need to figure something out. And then I do whatever I can to achieve the goal.

Really I'm so thrilled that my yoga practice has worked to benefit my healing. Of course, I trust yoga - I've been espousing it for injuries I've never experienced lo these many years. But to experiment, so-far successfully on myself is a great gift.

My therapist has prescribed some exercises that I will do. Then I will repeat those actions in increasingly-weight bearing yoga poses, as my healing warrants. I was thrilled to learn that it is highly unlikely that I will intensify this injury with conscious movement, supported by rest and frequent elevation. I am so happy that my intuition was on the mark. Inflammation is my guide in the healing process, as well as discomfort. If I can act without too much (i.e. "bad") pain and that movement doesn't increase swelling, then I can proceed.

I suggested coming in 5 times a week but, alas, Ms. Physio said it would do nothing to expedite the process (there we are with those "ped" words again). Apparently, 2 sessions a week for the next 6 weeks (approximately), for ultrasound, review and manipulative therapy, will suffice.

Of course, when I asked how long it would be till I'll be sort of mobile again / quite mobile again / totally back to normal again, I got all kinds of answers I don't agree with. I won't put those yucky numbers into your minds.

I am grateful for this opportunity to learn about my body. I am hopeful for a swift, and complete, recovery. Let's leave it at that, shall we?

Rise Up

While I may be laid up (now I see why they call it that), in my dreams I'm sewing. The projects I had on the go, ready to begin just before the injury, are sitting in the sewga room like time capsules, calling to me as I do my yoga each day. Gotta say, the universe has really helped me to reconnect with my practice :-) Ain't no distracting me right now.

In case you wonder if I've lost my inextinguishable obsession - no way! I conspire to develop new systems to help me get back to the sewing as I heal, even if for short bursts. I've convinced Scott to help me cut out the fabric for my patterns. I tried to convince him to trace my patterns, but no dice. So I will have to cut the pattern to the sizes I envision and hope they're on the mark.

I have a new sewing chair, a loaner from Scott's office, which has wheels so I can shuffle around. Now I need to create a viable support for the healing foot (maybe my air cast will be enough, maybe I'll need to create a ramp to elevate my foot)?

When I've got it sorted, here are the things I'm working on next - the pants for V1166:


They're Very Easy, apparently, which is what I'm looking for in my first pants project. I have made yoga pants, but I don't think they're the same beast - at least from a fitting perspective.

Now we're going to see if my lower body is easier to fit than my upper body. And also how long it takes to determine the fit on pants when one's ability to stand isn't stellar.

The other thing I'm mentally working on is the next version of V8413, the dress I made originally in scary-cheap poly double knit (one of my few online fabric forays). I have some burnt orange double knit in my stash, specifically to remake this, and have just been waiting for an opp to get started. Who knows, I might even make a different version this time. Anyone have any suggestions about which version they think would be cutest on me??


Since I got the news about my foot yesterday I've been feeling very strange. I don't know if I'm in denial, or if I'm the arbiter of the extent of this injury as it has occurred within my own body, but I do not believe that this is going to keep me down for long.

I called the physio clinic immediately - according to many, the best in the city and the one my doctor recommended to me. (Sidebar: Ever had your doctor call clinicians to get you an emergency appointment for tests, request verbal diagnosis same-day and then call you an hour after the appt. on a day she doesn't work to give you the results and the name of a physio location (and therapist) which she directs you to a) call immediately and b) then respond to her to advise when your first appt. is so she can send the results over asap???)

I spoke at some length with the friendly physio clinic receptionist whom, I advised, that I am extremely engaged and motivated to work through this injury as quickly and competently as is humanly possible. I told her I would come in daily, I would do whatever exercises are required times 2 - with all the precision required, whereupon she (I detect, vaguely amusedly) responded that one needs to rest between sessions. Whatever. If I were an Olympic athlete she'd take me at my word. She doesn't know that I have the steely will of a skilled professional when it comes to healing. Perhaps y'all know this about me by now, I am utterly single-minded in my pursuit of things. Especially resolution. Especially in matters of my own health and well-being.

No mind, they'll be taking me seriously on Monday at my first appointment. Everybody does, eventually.