In a land far, far away (even further than Elba, Ohio), there was a princess who sat on her throne. This particular throne happened to be a wheelchair with a nice, comfy cushion. She ruled her kingdom which happened to be her apartment and her spunky orange tabby cat, Sir Watson Edward Charles Louis Stewart. However, she preferred to call him at time, "No, no bad kitty!"
Well, she seemed to have it all, a brother whom she deemed as the Court Jester, a nice kingdom to rule and most of all ... complete control over ye ole remote control.
At the same time, she seemed unhappy and frustrated by wearing a torture device known as a boot. It was very heavy, but good for kicking someone. However, the good thing about the boot was that it was protecting her ankle post-surgery. She calculated the time from surgery to inpatient rehabilitation to cast to boot which made up a whopping 3 1/2 months-time spent.
She did make some poor decisions along the way. She walked on her non-weight bearing cast. She declared herself a moron and said, "kids, don't try this at home." So naturally she was nervous regarding her upcoming appointment with the surgeon.
The long trip up to Columbus was nerve-wracking for the princess. She was scared that the ankle did not fuse correctly and that her poor judgment regarding her recovery may have defeated the purpose of the surgery.
As eh hobbled into the large complex where her doctor practices, she was taken back to the room for X-rays and what turned out to be a seemingly long wait for Dr. Berlet to arrive.
The princess' father, the king, was present to hear the news. So, here it goes, Dr. Berlet issued the decree ... "the ankle has perfectly fused together and you can transition into a sneaker."
Wonderful reality set in. The fairy tale was no longer necessary. Besides you probably thought I lost my marbles and a polka dot straight jacket would be necessary. Briefly, sometimes resorting by pretending to live in a fairy tale can be necessary for long-term sanity. It can be a break from the hustle and bustle and trying times in the real world.
Anyway, back to the incredible news. I felt like broadcasting the information. "My ankle has fused! My ankle has fused!" I was giddy with excitement at the same time; holding back tears of relief and happiness.
Dr. Berlet proceeded to ask me, "do you want physical rehabilitation on your ankle?" How did I respond. Of course I want physical rehabilitation! No kidding ... it is just like asking if a pig can oink.
I realized I dodged a bullet with not following non-weight bearing rules. At that point, I knew exactly what I wanted to accomplish. 1. Work it like I mean it at physical rehabilitation; 2. use every plausible avenue of help available to me.
The day after my dad and I returned home, I transitioned into wearing my sneaker. It felt "weird" not wearing a brace. With my physical therapy order in hand, I went to Marietta Memorial Hospital's first floor physical therapy department. I was evaluated and set to begin the following week.
The day came to attend my first session of physical therapy. I'm glad I decided to go there. Everyone is really nice and takes a vested interest in your recovery. I was excited to begin and felt exhilarated to work hard and succeed. My first activity was to use the recumbent bike for 5 minutes. Then she asked if I could do 5 more minutes. Why, yes ... I do believe I can - so off I peddled even more until I reached 1 mile for distance. Then we worked on some balance issues and finally, an exercise to gain some flexibility in my ankle. It was a great session and I'm looking forward to the next one.
I also decided to call in the calvary. An appointment was made with the dietitian. I call it a re-fresher course to help me get back on track. I also was re-acquainted with the wellness center. I used the machines and the nautilus equipment. This is all very exciting and promising to me, especially since I have a new weight number to report. During those 3 1/2 months of torture, I had gained weight (unfortunately) to 309 pounds. I weighed myself today, Wednesday the 24th of July, and I weigh 297 pounds. Hey! I'm on the right track. I have a new lease on life - and you can bet your sweet cinnamon roll that I'm going to accomplish this lifestyle lesson to ultimately improve my well-being. Until next time ...
Casi Stewart can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. A Weighty Issue appears every other Monday on the Life page.