Going for broke.

This post is not going to be about flying.

That's because I haven't flown since before my last post. Actually, I haven't flown since July 15, because I am a klutz. If you put me in a straightjacket and a padded room, I will figure out a way to accidentally knock myself out.

A few weeks ago, while I was recovering from some kind of black plague I inherited from one of my first officers, I was walking down my hallway to the bathroom to get another tissue and maybe some OTC drugs that NEVER seem to work. Does that shit work for anybody? Anyway, ever since I broke my right ankle, tibia, and fibia 10 years ago, that ankle has been weak. Any uneven ground at all, and it gives. I tumble, usually in uniform at the airport, and usually in front of a crowd of people. Anyway, the rug in the hallway had a small wrinkle in it, unnoticeable to a normal person, but lethal to my ankle. As I tried to regain my balance, I heard and felt a "POP!" somewhere in my foot. Oh GOD the pain....... I shouted the F word about 10 times, then shouted the S word until Donnie peeked his head around the corner. I said, "I'm ok. I'm ok."

But I wasn't ok. I waited a few hours just to be sure it wouldn't start feeling better on its own, then called my podiatrist's office. As luck would have it, they had room for me the next day. I still managed to carry the laundry up and down our stairs, because in my denial I thought I was still commuting to work the next day after my appointment. I drank a bottle of wine and toughed out the pain.

The x-ray clearly showed a break in the 5th metatarsal head of my right foot. I looked at my doctor, and had just enough time to think, "how long?" when he answered my unspoken question - "4 - 6 weeks. You probably can't drive with a giant boot on, can you?" I said, "Well.... when I broke my leg 10 years ago, I waited until my boyfriend was out of the house, jumped in my car, threw the leg into the passenger's seat, and drove away like a thief. But that was an automatic;  I'm driving a standard now." He said, "no.... I meant, 'drive the plane.'"

Oh.

"Well, I could use a vacation," I said. He said, "you know.... since you're not going to be working anyway.... you might consider having surgery on your left foot to remove that Neuroma." I took some time to think.... and he's right.

In fact, I've been thinking a lot. At first, I was so pissed at myself for breaking my foot. And in such a stupid way, too! What a LAME way to become lame. I've been trying to come up with a badass story of how I broke it when people ask. I twisted it putting it up the ass of someone who really deserved it! I am on the Jefferson City curling team, and one of my teammates accidentally dropped one of those stones on my foot during practice. I was rescuing a crippled dog from a burning building, when the ceiling caved in. We both barely got out with our lives.

Nope.... I tripped in my own hallway. Weak. At least when I broke my leg 10 years ago, I was doing something awesome. You know what they say.... if at first you don't succeed, skydiving is not for you! Although, I couldn't tell my parents that I was skydiving. They'd freak. My boyfriend at the time and I cooked up a story that I broke it falling off a ladder while hanging Christmas lights on the house. My folks never really bought it, and kept asking questions. Only after I had healed up well enough to run away, did I come out with the truth. I haven't seen them laugh so hard in a long time!

So, the surgery to remove my neuroma is tomorrow. What is a neuroma? It is a non-cancerous tumor that grows on a nerve. It's painful. It's the thing that's kept me from running after my race in March. I thought that giving it time off from running would help it. It's only gotten worse. Now, each step is an explosion of pain. Not all the time... it's always a surprise. But, since I broke the right foot, the left one is doing double-duty and it's complaining. I tried physical therapy, 3 cortisone injections, chiropractic care, different shoes, and a second opinion, but nothing worked. It's like it's laughing at me! I'll show it.... I'll remove the little bastard.

You know what the worst thing you can do is? NEVER google "Morton's neuroma surgery." I am haunted by bloody, terrifying images and horror stories of how people are worse off after the surgery than before it. So.... this is a gamble. But I don't know what else to do. The timing is perfect.... time to shit or get off the pot!

I hope I'm doing the right thing. I hope breaking my foot was a blessing in disguise. I know if I hadn't been forced to take time off, then I never would have scheduled the surgery. I am comforted that I tried the conservative approach before resorting to this. I feel so lucky to have Don here to take care of me! He's been so sweet and helpful with my one-legged, gimpified state. And... to tell you the truth.... I am thankful for this extra time at home with him and our cat.

I told Don to take a picture of me with both feet wrapped up in their respective boots so I can refer to it on cold mornings when I'd rather sleep than go for my morning run. I am not looking forward to these next few weeks. I have already gained back 20 lbs since I stopped running. I so desperately miss being fit, and the endorphins that swam around my head after a 10 mile run. I am essentially at square one again. I hate the feel of the fat that has returned to my legs hips, face, and belly! Already, my right calf has atrophied into a floppy version of its old self. I am really regretting giving all of my fat clothes to Goodwill. The skinny girl inside me is screaming to go for a run!!

Will this be the rock bottom for me? Is it all uphill from here? Please God, let it be so.