Going from Hard, to Soft.
“I am agreeing to remove the cast after only 4 weeks because you promised to be good and I know how much you want to get in the water with your little girl.”
Light-wrap job before I slide into the dreaded “boot.” (sorry about the disgustingly-dry, crackly cast-skin view)
Today, after 1 solid month, Dr. Tellam agreed to remove the hard cast, early. Thanks, doc!
I never get used to that electric saw, though. I am convinced he is going to slip and cut deep into my foot or take off a few toes. More than once, at the slightest sensation of the blade coming too close to my flesh, I jerked my foot out of his hands, uncontrollably.
He doesn’t seem to like that too much.
Two Weeks in a Soft Cast
While it feels like progress losing the hard cast, I still cannot weight-bear, most likely for another 2-3 weeks; and I have to get back into that sh*tty soft cast (the nasty, terrible, horrible “boot”).
The Good
I am healing incredibly fast, and well.
I can now get in the pool for short stints with #babyKai.
While I still have to use crutches, they can assist my right foot (Unless it starts barking at me).
I can drive in a week.
I can use a CBD topical now.
That light at the end of the tunnel appears even brighter, now.
The Bad
None. I am choosing to stay positive. This, too, shall pass. I am strong.
Next Steps
Self-rehab. Move and twist and shake my foot while seated as much as possible.
Nutritional supplementation. Continue to heal my body with CBD, EAAs, and electrolytes.
Head back to the doc in two weeks, July 7, 2020, for the next assessment.
August 1, My Birthday
I will be 50 years young in a month, and all I want for my birthday is to be able to walk to the beach, unassisted. That’s all. 5 blocks from my front door to the sand. That will be my win.
Laugh if you want to, but small goals become big goals, and it won’t be long before you are looking over your shoulder and seeing me breathing down your neck at a 5K, obstacle course race, or 100-miler.
I will never, ever take mobility for granted again, and I expect those who really care for me to keep me accountable. (Although, I don’t think you’ll have to.)
Giddy-up. Can’t stop me now.