Getting the boot
There's been a lot of happy stuff going on in my life lately, so I'm going to go ahead and do some complaining now. Not about being married, though. That's still pretty awesome.
This complaint actually runs parallel to a lot of the wedding planning of the past year, though it has nothing to do with it. Around this time last year, a little later (like October/November), I noticed a weird pain in my foot. It seemed like I must've slammed it into something and forgotten about it, so I thought it would eventually go away. It got somewhat better, but never did quite go away, and if I turned my foot a certain way, it would hurt in a bruise-like way. Eventually, I got my act together to visit my doctor and get a referral to a podiatrist -- I think this was around February or March of this year. So I went in and he diagnosed probably tendonitis, maybe from running. He showed me how to tape up my foot, gave me some heat lotion, and said to see if it helped after a few weeks. It did, as have several other treatments of sorts, but the pain has never completely gone away. After a few months, it more or less plateaued and we've been trying to figure out how to get rid of it completely ever since.
So I've been going there regularly for the past six months or so. I like the doctor a lot, but he has one overriding quirk, and that is a slight inconsistency. Basically, every time I go there is more or less akin to my second visit ever; he knows what the problem is, and offers options, but with no real consistent reference to my previous bunch of appointments. Usually, he'll mention two or three of the following courses of action:
--just continuing taping/using a soft foot brace thing I got around visit four or five
--taking prescription anti-inflammatories
--wearing a boot over the foot for several weeks
--physical therapy
--short course of oral steroids
--needle steroids (he is actually way against this, as am I, but he sometimes mentions it, I guess as a matter of due diligence)
--some kind of protein injection thing
But never the same two or three things at two consecutive appointments. At first, this sort of made sense; he was basically saying, OK, well, do you want to keep waiting and seeing, or move on to something more drastic/expensive, with escalating possibilities for the latter, especially as some of those options (the anti-inflammatories, the small brace) have not done the job one hundred percent. But the last few visits have felt more like a random solution generator.
For example, during my last visit before today, he laid out some options again, and I said, OK, we've talked about taking a short course of oral steroids before to knock out the last bit of pain/healing, and I don't want to do that before my wedding, so how about I'll check in again after the wedding, and if it's still not better, I'll try those steroids. He said, sounds good. But when I came back for that visit today and mentioned that it hadn't really improved, he noticed a little swelling and took a sonogram thing of my foot. Based on the results (that last tendon section looks frayed and may even be partially torn), he recommended this boot thing. Which I am wearing right now. Not taking steroids.
It's not totally weird; I guess the main difference was some swelling that didn't happen last time (although it doesn't really feel worse so much as still-not-better), and it's not like I was in love with the idea of chowing down on steroids, even for just four or five days. The new plan is: boot for three weeks; if foot still hurts, do an MRI and figure out which even more expensive procedure may be needed. So there are worse things. Nonetheless, this boot is a little more than I bargained for.
When the doctor asked if I thought I could handle wearing the boot pretty much all of the time for a few weeks, removing it only to sleep and shower, I said yes. After all, he described it as akin to a ski boot. It turns out never going skiing has had a somewhat negative impact on my ability to decide whether wearing a ski boot for eighteen hours a day is a feasible operation. This thing is like no boot I have ever worn. It is basically a large base on top of an even larger platform. It does, however, feature a pump that inflates the brace for better immobilization. So it turns out that those Nike Pumpables (I won't deign to look up the actual name) that I never cared about as a kid and would've remained more expensive than any shoes I've ever bought had I not seen fit to purchase these as a post-wedding gift to myself, and even then, the Nike Pumpmasters might still win, were maybe somehow really good for kids' feet?
Anyway, before I tried on the boot and realized the full extent of its limposity, the doctor exited and the nurse (are podiatrists' assistants nurses? Sub-question, is that a horrible thing to ask?) came in and helped me get situated into this thing. I had already asked the doctor about whether I could exercise in it, and his answer -- a thoughtful no except possibly on a stationary bike -- made me think that it wouldn't be crazy to ask the nurse what kind of walking I could do in this thing. She asked me how much I walk in a typical day. When I told her around two and a half miles (Actually a conservative estimate! I have the rough stats to back me up! Last month I averaged 3.2!), she looked at me with this mixture of surprise and pity, as if I had told her that most days, I crawl across the Williamsburg Bridge on my stomach in order to get to work.
She informed me that I should not walk 2.5 miles in this boot (wearing this thing to walk from the office to the bedroom, I would concur). She further informed me that the most they recommend walking at a time in this boot is four city blocks. What struck me about this number is how perfectly reasonable this seemed to her, and how, again, surprised and maybe slightly alarmed she seemed when, due to a brief misunderstanding, she thought I was saying that I live ten blocks from the closest subway. I don't at the moment, but I used to! And lady, this is New York City. It is big. There are a lot of subway lines, but not that many. I was tempted to ask where she lives. Even if she's in Manhattan, surely she must have noticed that many apartments are situated as many as five, six, sometimes twelve blocks away from a subway station! Has she ever seen the Upper East Side?
I don't mean to get all down on the suburbs, but here is where I get a little bit down on the suburbs, in the sense that sometimes people from the suburbs forget there are other ways. Yes, spending three weeks never walking more than four blocks at a time is feasible (if somewhat depressing) if you drive to work (and I should point out here that my wife drives to work, and still probably approaches ten miles walked some weeks). Technically, it might be possible for me, if I was willing to use the G train to get everywhere. Now, I will defend the G train to many people. There are certain routes where taking the G train to the E train is actually incredibly speedy (assuming neither line is closed for repairs). But I would not recommend taking the G train to get to Union Square to anyone, probably not even someone living inside of a G train.
Anyway, I listened carefully to the nurse's advice, paid my doctor bill, went downstairs to the nearest bank vestibule, took off the boot, and walked two miles.
OK, that was probably kind of a tool move, and I don't mean to sound like an idiot. I will wear the boot. I'm wearing it right now! I will even take the G/E combo to work tomorrow. I will wear it to work. Sitting, in fact, is what often seems to irritate this tendon the most, so I'm motivated to keep the boot on my person. But when I go to the One Story meeting after work, I'm gonna have to change into shoes, because the closest subway to those offices is about half a mile away, and I'm not going to start taking cabs everywhere until I'm closer to an amputation situation. There are going to have to be some times in the next three weeks, particularly in the next four days, where I'm going to need to go ahead and do some actual walking. In a sense, I am taking the nurse's advice, because she was focusing on how if you walk too much with this boot, you could fuck up your other foot/leg (again, I believe it; I almost wish I had two, because most of the physical awkwardness of this thing is how much higher it holds up my left foot). I will certainly not walk several miles in the boot. I will always change into real shoes first, which does, OK, pretty much contradict the doctor's actual orders(although: I don't have to wear it while sleeping. Sleepwalk loophole?!). But seriously: how in living fuck am I supposed to go three weeks on approximately eight blocks per day? Especially when I'm also not supposed to be doing any real exercise. (Great, now I have to re-learn how to do sit-ups.) I'll do my best, but this nurse's guidelines were essentially not much different than telling me I'd need to rock a wheelchair for a month. Not that there's anything wrong with wheelchairs; they just represent a pretty substantial lifestyle change even for someone as unathletic as I.
So this post is not, in fact, an elaborate explanation of why I will have Frankenstien Foot next time you see me so much as an elaborate explanation of why I might just be wearing those droid sneakers instead of the much-hyped boot. Actually, though I initially found the irony of being prescribed to wear a Godzilla Boot the day after I received my new favorite sneakers borderline cruel, I have to admit, the garish two-droids-in-one design actually makes them pretty ideal for that rare single-sneaker situation. Now I just have to suss out whether I can get away with wearing one giant boot and one Star Wars Adidas to work on Friday. Hey, doctor's orders! Also, I just got married! I can do what I want!!
That said, I should get to bed, which just became super fun bonus hour, because it means I can take off the boot! Huzzah!
Stuff I still haven't covered: a couple of movies; the new Weezer record; and Tom and Maggie's wedding. But now that I'm semi-sedentary, I may well get there soon.
This complaint actually runs parallel to a lot of the wedding planning of the past year, though it has nothing to do with it. Around this time last year, a little later (like October/November), I noticed a weird pain in my foot. It seemed like I must've slammed it into something and forgotten about it, so I thought it would eventually go away. It got somewhat better, but never did quite go away, and if I turned my foot a certain way, it would hurt in a bruise-like way. Eventually, I got my act together to visit my doctor and get a referral to a podiatrist -- I think this was around February or March of this year. So I went in and he diagnosed probably tendonitis, maybe from running. He showed me how to tape up my foot, gave me some heat lotion, and said to see if it helped after a few weeks. It did, as have several other treatments of sorts, but the pain has never completely gone away. After a few months, it more or less plateaued and we've been trying to figure out how to get rid of it completely ever since.
So I've been going there regularly for the past six months or so. I like the doctor a lot, but he has one overriding quirk, and that is a slight inconsistency. Basically, every time I go there is more or less akin to my second visit ever; he knows what the problem is, and offers options, but with no real consistent reference to my previous bunch of appointments. Usually, he'll mention two or three of the following courses of action:
--just continuing taping/using a soft foot brace thing I got around visit four or five
--taking prescription anti-inflammatories
--wearing a boot over the foot for several weeks
--physical therapy
--short course of oral steroids
--needle steroids (he is actually way against this, as am I, but he sometimes mentions it, I guess as a matter of due diligence)
--some kind of protein injection thing
But never the same two or three things at two consecutive appointments. At first, this sort of made sense; he was basically saying, OK, well, do you want to keep waiting and seeing, or move on to something more drastic/expensive, with escalating possibilities for the latter, especially as some of those options (the anti-inflammatories, the small brace) have not done the job one hundred percent. But the last few visits have felt more like a random solution generator.
For example, during my last visit before today, he laid out some options again, and I said, OK, we've talked about taking a short course of oral steroids before to knock out the last bit of pain/healing, and I don't want to do that before my wedding, so how about I'll check in again after the wedding, and if it's still not better, I'll try those steroids. He said, sounds good. But when I came back for that visit today and mentioned that it hadn't really improved, he noticed a little swelling and took a sonogram thing of my foot. Based on the results (that last tendon section looks frayed and may even be partially torn), he recommended this boot thing. Which I am wearing right now. Not taking steroids.
It's not totally weird; I guess the main difference was some swelling that didn't happen last time (although it doesn't really feel worse so much as still-not-better), and it's not like I was in love with the idea of chowing down on steroids, even for just four or five days. The new plan is: boot for three weeks; if foot still hurts, do an MRI and figure out which even more expensive procedure may be needed. So there are worse things. Nonetheless, this boot is a little more than I bargained for.
When the doctor asked if I thought I could handle wearing the boot pretty much all of the time for a few weeks, removing it only to sleep and shower, I said yes. After all, he described it as akin to a ski boot. It turns out never going skiing has had a somewhat negative impact on my ability to decide whether wearing a ski boot for eighteen hours a day is a feasible operation. This thing is like no boot I have ever worn. It is basically a large base on top of an even larger platform. It does, however, feature a pump that inflates the brace for better immobilization. So it turns out that those Nike Pumpables (I won't deign to look up the actual name) that I never cared about as a kid and would've remained more expensive than any shoes I've ever bought had I not seen fit to purchase these as a post-wedding gift to myself, and even then, the Nike Pumpmasters might still win, were maybe somehow really good for kids' feet?
Anyway, before I tried on the boot and realized the full extent of its limposity, the doctor exited and the nurse (are podiatrists' assistants nurses? Sub-question, is that a horrible thing to ask?) came in and helped me get situated into this thing. I had already asked the doctor about whether I could exercise in it, and his answer -- a thoughtful no except possibly on a stationary bike -- made me think that it wouldn't be crazy to ask the nurse what kind of walking I could do in this thing. She asked me how much I walk in a typical day. When I told her around two and a half miles (Actually a conservative estimate! I have the rough stats to back me up! Last month I averaged 3.2!), she looked at me with this mixture of surprise and pity, as if I had told her that most days, I crawl across the Williamsburg Bridge on my stomach in order to get to work.
She informed me that I should not walk 2.5 miles in this boot (wearing this thing to walk from the office to the bedroom, I would concur). She further informed me that the most they recommend walking at a time in this boot is four city blocks. What struck me about this number is how perfectly reasonable this seemed to her, and how, again, surprised and maybe slightly alarmed she seemed when, due to a brief misunderstanding, she thought I was saying that I live ten blocks from the closest subway. I don't at the moment, but I used to! And lady, this is New York City. It is big. There are a lot of subway lines, but not that many. I was tempted to ask where she lives. Even if she's in Manhattan, surely she must have noticed that many apartments are situated as many as five, six, sometimes twelve blocks away from a subway station! Has she ever seen the Upper East Side?
I don't mean to get all down on the suburbs, but here is where I get a little bit down on the suburbs, in the sense that sometimes people from the suburbs forget there are other ways. Yes, spending three weeks never walking more than four blocks at a time is feasible (if somewhat depressing) if you drive to work (and I should point out here that my wife drives to work, and still probably approaches ten miles walked some weeks). Technically, it might be possible for me, if I was willing to use the G train to get everywhere. Now, I will defend the G train to many people. There are certain routes where taking the G train to the E train is actually incredibly speedy (assuming neither line is closed for repairs). But I would not recommend taking the G train to get to Union Square to anyone, probably not even someone living inside of a G train.
Anyway, I listened carefully to the nurse's advice, paid my doctor bill, went downstairs to the nearest bank vestibule, took off the boot, and walked two miles.
OK, that was probably kind of a tool move, and I don't mean to sound like an idiot. I will wear the boot. I'm wearing it right now! I will even take the G/E combo to work tomorrow. I will wear it to work. Sitting, in fact, is what often seems to irritate this tendon the most, so I'm motivated to keep the boot on my person. But when I go to the One Story meeting after work, I'm gonna have to change into shoes, because the closest subway to those offices is about half a mile away, and I'm not going to start taking cabs everywhere until I'm closer to an amputation situation. There are going to have to be some times in the next three weeks, particularly in the next four days, where I'm going to need to go ahead and do some actual walking. In a sense, I am taking the nurse's advice, because she was focusing on how if you walk too much with this boot, you could fuck up your other foot/leg (again, I believe it; I almost wish I had two, because most of the physical awkwardness of this thing is how much higher it holds up my left foot). I will certainly not walk several miles in the boot. I will always change into real shoes first, which does, OK, pretty much contradict the doctor's actual orders(although: I don't have to wear it while sleeping. Sleepwalk loophole?!). But seriously: how in living fuck am I supposed to go three weeks on approximately eight blocks per day? Especially when I'm also not supposed to be doing any real exercise. (Great, now I have to re-learn how to do sit-ups.) I'll do my best, but this nurse's guidelines were essentially not much different than telling me I'd need to rock a wheelchair for a month. Not that there's anything wrong with wheelchairs; they just represent a pretty substantial lifestyle change even for someone as unathletic as I.
So this post is not, in fact, an elaborate explanation of why I will have Frankenstien Foot next time you see me so much as an elaborate explanation of why I might just be wearing those droid sneakers instead of the much-hyped boot. Actually, though I initially found the irony of being prescribed to wear a Godzilla Boot the day after I received my new favorite sneakers borderline cruel, I have to admit, the garish two-droids-in-one design actually makes them pretty ideal for that rare single-sneaker situation. Now I just have to suss out whether I can get away with wearing one giant boot and one Star Wars Adidas to work on Friday. Hey, doctor's orders! Also, I just got married! I can do what I want!!
That said, I should get to bed, which just became super fun bonus hour, because it means I can take off the boot! Huzzah!
Stuff I still haven't covered: a couple of movies; the new Weezer record; and Tom and Maggie's wedding. But now that I'm semi-sedentary, I may well get there soon.