You can tell from the glass on the floor and the strings that are breaking
Today kind of got away from me.
Had an orthopedist appointment this morning, wound up calling out of the remains of work to just take it easy and sort stuff out.
This was a belated appointment to follow up on the ankle MRI I got back in April or May. (Looks like I documented that not at all.) The idea then was specifically to rule out anything wonky with the ankle beyond the known recurring sprain, so if there was something intervention-worthy I could take care of it before my insurance runs out. (It's Tyler's insurance. So.) They said they'd call if there was anything of note. And they gave me a cortisone shot, which effectively removed my urgency about following up.
Today (after over an hour wait from my appointment time) the orthopedist slapped the MRI up on the screen and it appears I have a subchondral cyst in my talus - a growing fluid-filled hole that will destroy (or has already started destroying!) the bone and cartilage of my ankle joint unless it's treated. Treatment would start with all sorts of reasonable and conservative things, but I have already done all of them in the course of dealing with my knee, so we're on to surgery! Drilling in, draining, filling with bone replacement matrix, debriding away whatever's damaged. I'm a good candidate, high likelihood of positive outcomes. I like the surgeon a lot and I feel good about the way she presented information to me. Made an appointment on the spot.
Then I got poked hard with giant needles. At my own request! Cortisone shots in both left knee and left ankle. Not something I'd want to make a habit of, I've read up on the side effects, but seems like an excellent thing to do before Burning Man. I know my inflammation issues and I do a good job of managing them non-medically in normal conditions, but this felt like a wise precaution for a really abnormal condition and I was pleased the orthopedist seemed to agree. So that's a good thing, but the part today was the part where I got my joints perforated and pumped full of fluid. Ow.
Then I got to write an awkward 'It's cool if we finalize the divorce just a little later, right?' email to make sure I'll have insurance coverage for the surgery. Once again I thank the relevant gods and my own good taste that Tyler is a genuinely caring person who wants the best for me and is of course not going to begrudge this. I did not have a shadow of worry about him being anything but supportive. That speaks volumes to why I have so few regrets these days. Still: I had to ask a favor from my ex to deal with crappy health news, and ain't that just a fabulous thing to have all linked up?
Then I got to start in on a not insignificant administrative hoopjump with Kaiser about getting services in Oregon. During that process I started anticipating the logistics of surgery where I'll be and who I can ask to drive me home* and... My life has a lot of moving parts right now. It'll be fine. I have wonderful people, lots of 'em. I have good plans and good options.
It's okay. But it's a lot.
Short version: I'm scheduled for ankle surgery late September. That news hit me really hard. Also got poked with big needles and did a lot of paperwork. It was not a relaxing day.
*at this point the 'call your mom' reflex kicks in. Fuck that reflex.
Had an orthopedist appointment this morning, wound up calling out of the remains of work to just take it easy and sort stuff out.
This was a belated appointment to follow up on the ankle MRI I got back in April or May. (Looks like I documented that not at all.) The idea then was specifically to rule out anything wonky with the ankle beyond the known recurring sprain, so if there was something intervention-worthy I could take care of it before my insurance runs out. (It's Tyler's insurance. So.) They said they'd call if there was anything of note. And they gave me a cortisone shot, which effectively removed my urgency about following up.
Today (after over an hour wait from my appointment time) the orthopedist slapped the MRI up on the screen and it appears I have a subchondral cyst in my talus - a growing fluid-filled hole that will destroy (or has already started destroying!) the bone and cartilage of my ankle joint unless it's treated. Treatment would start with all sorts of reasonable and conservative things, but I have already done all of them in the course of dealing with my knee, so we're on to surgery! Drilling in, draining, filling with bone replacement matrix, debriding away whatever's damaged. I'm a good candidate, high likelihood of positive outcomes. I like the surgeon a lot and I feel good about the way she presented information to me. Made an appointment on the spot.
Then I got poked hard with giant needles. At my own request! Cortisone shots in both left knee and left ankle. Not something I'd want to make a habit of, I've read up on the side effects, but seems like an excellent thing to do before Burning Man. I know my inflammation issues and I do a good job of managing them non-medically in normal conditions, but this felt like a wise precaution for a really abnormal condition and I was pleased the orthopedist seemed to agree. So that's a good thing, but the part today was the part where I got my joints perforated and pumped full of fluid. Ow.
Then I got to write an awkward 'It's cool if we finalize the divorce just a little later, right?' email to make sure I'll have insurance coverage for the surgery. Once again I thank the relevant gods and my own good taste that Tyler is a genuinely caring person who wants the best for me and is of course not going to begrudge this. I did not have a shadow of worry about him being anything but supportive. That speaks volumes to why I have so few regrets these days. Still: I had to ask a favor from my ex to deal with crappy health news, and ain't that just a fabulous thing to have all linked up?
Then I got to start in on a not insignificant administrative hoopjump with Kaiser about getting services in Oregon. During that process I started anticipating the logistics of surgery where I'll be and who I can ask to drive me home* and... My life has a lot of moving parts right now. It'll be fine. I have wonderful people, lots of 'em. I have good plans and good options.
It's okay. But it's a lot.
Short version: I'm scheduled for ankle surgery late September. That news hit me really hard. Also got poked with big needles and did a lot of paperwork. It was not a relaxing day.
*at this point the 'call your mom' reflex kicks in. Fuck that reflex.