You would think that being (f)unemployed would be conducive to making a lot of blog posts. Except I’m too busy doing things like applying for jobs (as of this morning I’ve applied for 68) and eating fruit snacks. I was joking to Katie that after I work out for the day I get really bored. Like, well, I’ve accomplished the one thing I need to do today, now what? In a horrible stroke of bad luck, it looks like Working on my Fitness might also be taken away from me for the time being. About three weeks ago my right foot started to hurt. It would mostly ache went I moved my foot a certain way, but I ignored it (duh). It’s gotten progressively worse and has caused me to both walk strangely and whine about it a lot. Due to the whining thing, Bryce has told me I have to go to the doctor. I’ve been avoiding it because of the whole no job thing, even though I still have insurance for a while. It’s just I’d rather spend my co-payments on things like muumuus and burritos.
Anyway, pretty much exactly two years ago I broke my butt. Well, no, I suffered a hamstring avulsion. Three of them. I’m going to post some stuff I wrote during that time in my life in a second, but out of this horrible stupid move on my part I met a wonderful doctor who I’m convinced saved my leg. Not like I was ever going to get my leg amputated or whatever, but the injury I suffered has a super small window in which surgery can be performed before the muscles retract and limited mobility becomes an issue. A lot of doctors would have told me to suck it up, but this dude believed me when I told him something was super wrong and he took action. Fast forward to now and my hurt-y foot, I knew that if I was going to spend my burrito and caftan money on someone, it needed to be him. I called this morning and since he’s The Best, I wouldn’t have been able to see him until the end of July. His new associate, who I haven’t met, could take me this Friday, so I’m seeing her. I’m sure she’ll be great since she works with a master, but I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t totally bummed that I’m not going to be able to see my favorite doctor and give him a life update. Hopefully my foot is no big deal and I’ll just have to wear a walking boot for a few weeks. In the middle of summer, fun.
Here’s a bit of my writing from my 2009 injury. It’s not particularly relevant, except for being slightly cringe inducing as well as mildly amusing:
Originally written on June 23, 2009:
Ugh, so, Jenny’s bachelorette party was on Saturday and it was really fun! The scrapbooking portion of the night was kept to a minimum and the fun was at a maximum.But then we went back to the house we were all staying at and we started having a dance party and I decided it was time to do a kick line. So I’m doing my high kicks and decided it would be really great to go into the splits from a high kick like I used to do. You know, like I used to do OVER A DECADE AGO. Jesus Christ. Anyway, I did some serious damage to… something. Upper hamstring? Gluteus maximus? Minimus? Medius? Everyone has a different opinion. All I know is that I can’t walk. I just drag my leg behind me like something out of a horror movie. This dragging gimpish motion, in turn, has screwed up my back and my other leg by trying to compensate. Basically, I’m a giant mess. Oh, and I dread peeing because the toilet seat is really hard (the ONLY time I would ever be an advocate of those gross squishy toilet seats is if you broke your butt like me) and I need to lower myself like an old woman, wincing the entire time. I can’t get into see a doctor until Thursday morning so until then I’m coming dangerously close to overdosing on ibuprofen and giving my ass frostbite. But, in really exciting news, the sports medicine doctor I’m seeing is the 1985 National Spelling Bee champion. So even if he can’t fix my butt he’ll be able to spell my diagnosis and the muscles involved correctly and enthusiastically. I just hope he doesn’t ask me the origin of the word or air-spell it on his palm.
Originally written on June 25, 2009:
Things I’ve done today: gotten a shot of novocaine in my butt, had a mri, eaten a canister of pringles.
I went to the doctor this morning. You know, to see the 1985 National Spelling Bee Champion. He’s a really cool dude and I like him a lot (well, until he tells me they need to amputate), so I’m glad my google searching led me to him. He has this like, assistant person? I thought he was a nurse, but now I think he might be a medical student or an intern or something because the doctor would ask him things like “So what do you think we should do next?”, quizzing him and stuff. Anyway, he (assistant person) was really friendly with me, flirty-ish friendly, which was nice (though sort of uncomfortable because I was so not attracted to him) because it made me not so nervous about the fact that my butt muscles might be completely detached from the bone, but also weird because then they had to give me a shot of novocaine in the butt (to numb me up to see if the reason I can’t move my leg is because I’m in too much pain, which would be rectified by the novocaine) and he had to like, prep my butt with iodine. So he like, moves my underwear to my crack, tucking it in, (ughhh) and then starts like, cleaning my butt cheek with iodine. As Stacie said, “Only you, Anna, only you.” So then they gave me about 5 giant shots and HOLY COW I had no idea shots in your butt hurt so much!! Anyway, I still couldn’t move my leg in the way they wanted me to, which is a bad sign. Then I had a MRI. Longest 20 minutes of my life. It’s like, here, lie in this tube and we’re going to have a bunch of loud magnets that sound like a bad techno remix bang around your body. I mean, that’s annoying in itself, but whatever. I’ve had an MRI before, but that was when I was a poor college student and let people look at my brain and shit for money and free food. This time was awful because I had to lie perfectly still on my broken butt muscles while they’re twitching and aching and throbbing. Hot, I know.
Anyway, I go back to El Doctor tomorrow afternoon and they’ll tell me how bad it is. He says it’s rare that I’ll need surgery, but I’m already thinking the worst. I was supposed to go back on Tuesday and they just called me to tell me to come in tomorrow instead, so I’m automatically assuming it’s because my butt is being held together by Pringles fat and iodine stained granny panties alone and they need to get me on an operating table STAT. Oh, and I start physical therapy tomorrow.
Long story short: I’m an idiot.
Originally written on June 30, 2009:
Alright, so, where did I leave off? With the creepy assistant at the doctor’s office iodine-ing my butt in order to prep me for a shot of novocaine to the rump to numb everything up to see if I had any ability to move my leg after the pain subsided? And I still couldn’t do it? Yeah, that sounds about right. So, I went back to the doctor the following day to have him let me know the results of my MRI. It was just as he suspected. I’ve managed to tear my three hamstrings tendons (the semitendinosus, the semimembranosus and the biceps femoris) off of my pelvic bone where they come together and are anchored right under my butt.
So, basically, I don’t have any working muscle on the back of my left leg. I went to an orthopaedic surgeon yesterday and he confirmed what the 1985 National Spelling Bee Champion saw on the MRI: a big mass of fluid and detached muscle (ughhh), which obviously isn’t just going to reconnect itself. I could let it scar over and then have physical therapy to regain some range of motion or I could have surgery to reconnect the tendons to my pelvis, which is what I’m opting for. I’m not entirely sure how this happens, something with roughening up the bone (UGHHH) and sutures and dissolvable screws. And a 3-4 inch scar from my butt down. And then 4-6 weeks of crutching around and then a buttload (get it?! BUTTload?!) of physical therapy. All in all, incredibly sexy. This should all be going down a week from today if they can secure an operating room. I don’t think it’s really set in that I’m going to be heavily drugged and cut into and am having a fairly major operation of a “pretty rare” injury. I just want it to be fixed. Seriously, I just want to be able to move normally and not have to put my underwear on like an old person and dance to bad remixes at over-crowded bars and be able to dodge speeding cabs while crossing the street. Anyway, send me some good thoughts (and puppies and candy) because I’m going to be really loopy and out of it and probably crying because of both the general anesthesia (it makes me emo) and the fact that I quite literally have a pain in the ass.