My left foot: The story of how I broke it.
I need to rant and since my colleagues are as exasperated with my incessant whinging as I am with my foot, I have decided it is now time to inflict virtual pain upon people who are unfortunate enough to sporadically peruse my LiveJournal.
I have a broken foot. Not through doing anything fantastically courageous or sporting, but through something as mundane, yet unavoidable, as walking. What began as a stress fracture, developed into a fully fledged break. I can't begin to explain how deflating it is when people squint at me like I am inherently retarded when I tell them I broke my foot walking.
Apparently, this all happened back in Japan where I spent hours every day cavorting about the pavements of Tokyo, Osaka and Kyoto, but it took 7 separate specialist appointments for someone to conclude that my foot was broken. As a result, I now have very little faith in the medical profession and even less for my Doctor.
Initially, the aforementioned Doctor thought I was finally getting my comeuppance for wearing high heels for a prolonged period and that I had a benign tumour in my foot. This sounded completely absurd, not only because I abhor wearing high heels, but because I am the last person to want to teeter about like a new born lamb regularly in the name of vanity. Ultrasounds are apparently "much more detailed" than x-rays and I was shuffled off to a clinic for a foot ultrasound. Again, I was regaled with lectures about my purported wearing of high heels and that I should look after my feet, but after 20 minutes of prodding with a lubed-up stick, I haemorraged $200 only to receive a two line report that said I was completely normal.
Following the non-outcome of the ultrasound, my Doctor now decided I had an inflammation in my foot. The kind people get from wearing high heels too often, apparently. I was prescribed pills, but the pills did nothing. It was back to the Doctor, who now treated me as if I was crying wolf and suggested I was simply walking abnormally and should either buy an orthotic from the chemist or see a podiatrist for an assessment.
So I arranged to see a podiatrist a week later. After 10 minutes of poking and flexing my foot, the podiatrist looked at me as if I was completely, utterly, mentally deficient and told me it was broken. Like, that I should have known it was broken and that I was being foolish for walking all that time. She mummified my foot up with bandages and I lumbered off to get an x-ray to confirm a break. By this stage, I was in so much pain I was limping everywhere and the pain in my back was resonating through my body from having to compensate for my lame leg.
I get an x-ray which has a report that tells me there is nothing abnormal and that I have a "bone island" in my foot. I spend the weekend googling "bone islands" on teh interwebs and concluded that I have a rare, exotic and insidious form of cancer in the foot. This may be Google's default response for any medical issue, but I spend the rest of the weekend convinced it will all end with flayed skin, medical mallets and toxic injections. It is also at this point my foot feels like it is burning and I spend the entire train trip home on Friday bawling because of the acute pain seering through my body. As soon as I arrive at the station I tear off the bandages and hobble home.
Monday morning arrives and the pain is so bad I feel ill. I arrange to take the afternoon off to see the podiatrist. She looks at the x-rays and the report and tells me that they (the x-ray people) seemingly missed THE FACT THAT MY FOOT IS F*CKING BROKEN. The result is that I have to wear a walking boot for 2 months to immobilse my foot from the ankle down.
In the scheme of things, wearing a large, bloated ice-skate-inspired boot isn't that bad, but they completely neglect to tell you that the motion of walking when wearing a boot that has a sole 10cm higher than the shoe on your good foot is unmitigated agony. My back feels like it is being pulled every which direction and the pain surges through my whole body, regardless of whether I am walking or sitting stationary upright. I feel sick and I want to lie down, because the muscles in my body feel so fatigued from holding me up. I have tried taking the boot off, but it makes no difference. I have taken fistfuls of pills, but I feel so strongly about taking a holistic approach to pain, rather than just masking it. I am seeing the podiatrist again tomorrow, but I don't think I can take much more of this horrible boot.
The moral of this story is that walking is dangerous and we should all be given mobility scooters like the elderly to avoid ever being pedially incapacitated.
End of rant. /
I have a broken foot. Not through doing anything fantastically courageous or sporting, but through something as mundane, yet unavoidable, as walking. What began as a stress fracture, developed into a fully fledged break. I can't begin to explain how deflating it is when people squint at me like I am inherently retarded when I tell them I broke my foot walking.
Apparently, this all happened back in Japan where I spent hours every day cavorting about the pavements of Tokyo, Osaka and Kyoto, but it took 7 separate specialist appointments for someone to conclude that my foot was broken. As a result, I now have very little faith in the medical profession and even less for my Doctor.
Initially, the aforementioned Doctor thought I was finally getting my comeuppance for wearing high heels for a prolonged period and that I had a benign tumour in my foot. This sounded completely absurd, not only because I abhor wearing high heels, but because I am the last person to want to teeter about like a new born lamb regularly in the name of vanity. Ultrasounds are apparently "much more detailed" than x-rays and I was shuffled off to a clinic for a foot ultrasound. Again, I was regaled with lectures about my purported wearing of high heels and that I should look after my feet, but after 20 minutes of prodding with a lubed-up stick, I haemorraged $200 only to receive a two line report that said I was completely normal.
Following the non-outcome of the ultrasound, my Doctor now decided I had an inflammation in my foot. The kind people get from wearing high heels too often, apparently. I was prescribed pills, but the pills did nothing. It was back to the Doctor, who now treated me as if I was crying wolf and suggested I was simply walking abnormally and should either buy an orthotic from the chemist or see a podiatrist for an assessment.
So I arranged to see a podiatrist a week later. After 10 minutes of poking and flexing my foot, the podiatrist looked at me as if I was completely, utterly, mentally deficient and told me it was broken. Like, that I should have known it was broken and that I was being foolish for walking all that time. She mummified my foot up with bandages and I lumbered off to get an x-ray to confirm a break. By this stage, I was in so much pain I was limping everywhere and the pain in my back was resonating through my body from having to compensate for my lame leg.
I get an x-ray which has a report that tells me there is nothing abnormal and that I have a "bone island" in my foot. I spend the weekend googling "bone islands" on teh interwebs and concluded that I have a rare, exotic and insidious form of cancer in the foot. This may be Google's default response for any medical issue, but I spend the rest of the weekend convinced it will all end with flayed skin, medical mallets and toxic injections. It is also at this point my foot feels like it is burning and I spend the entire train trip home on Friday bawling because of the acute pain seering through my body. As soon as I arrive at the station I tear off the bandages and hobble home.
Monday morning arrives and the pain is so bad I feel ill. I arrange to take the afternoon off to see the podiatrist. She looks at the x-rays and the report and tells me that they (the x-ray people) seemingly missed THE FACT THAT MY FOOT IS F*CKING BROKEN. The result is that I have to wear a walking boot for 2 months to immobilse my foot from the ankle down.
In the scheme of things, wearing a large, bloated ice-skate-inspired boot isn't that bad, but they completely neglect to tell you that the motion of walking when wearing a boot that has a sole 10cm higher than the shoe on your good foot is unmitigated agony. My back feels like it is being pulled every which direction and the pain surges through my whole body, regardless of whether I am walking or sitting stationary upright. I feel sick and I want to lie down, because the muscles in my body feel so fatigued from holding me up. I have tried taking the boot off, but it makes no difference. I have taken fistfuls of pills, but I feel so strongly about taking a holistic approach to pain, rather than just masking it. I am seeing the podiatrist again tomorrow, but I don't think I can take much more of this horrible boot.
The moral of this story is that walking is dangerous and we should all be given mobility scooters like the elderly to avoid ever being pedially incapacitated.
End of rant. /