I broke my foot a while back, and truth be told, this is such a big fucking bitch. I will say, back when I was thirteen, I broke two toes, but very high up in the metatarsals. (The top of your foot). They were two stress fractures, and it just wasn’t a huge deal. My doctor put me in a cast, and I couldn’t put any weight on my foot for three weeks, but after that I had physical therapy for about two or three weeks, and I was back to gymnastics, my sport of passion and choice. Bear in mind that these were hair line fractures though, and they healed up without a hitch.
If you want to read about how I broke my foot this time around, there’s a post about it here. I wanted to make this post not to talk about details of how I hurt my foot itself, but to kind of break some of the stereotypes surrounding toe and foot injuries and breaks. As always, I am no doctor, and if you hurt yourself you need to see a doctor and not go by what someone on some blog you’ve never met says.
Technically, the break is actually in my toe, at the very base of my big toe, right in between the phalanges and metacarpals. It is also on my big toe. This poses a problem for several reasons. For one, when I broke my toes before, they were middle toes. Middle toes can generally heal without much issue because you don’t put the bulk of your weight on them. Again, it depends on how severe the injury is though. You can absolutely have injuries on the middle toes which are serious and involve more treatment, mine healed up quickly though, and I was fine in no time.
So, how has my treatment gone?
First, I was told to use crutches (see above), and put no weight on it.
Then, I was told I could put weight on it.
Putting weight on it made everything worse, so I wound up with this cool scooter thingie. Hereby known as the “Gimpmobile.”
About two weeks after that, I was told to use one crutch and I could walk on my foot as tolerated. The Gimpmobile went away.
I wore the boot for a total of six week 23/7. (I was allowed to take it off to have a bath).
After that, I was told that I could wear a shoe to bed, if I could get my foot in one. The only shoe I could fit my foot into was a ballet flat that I accidentally bought a size to large about two years ago. I never thought I’d find a use for them, and was soo happy to not have to wear a three pound boot to bed at night. In order to be sure that the shoe stayed on my foot though, we had to tie it on with a huge ribbon. Master did this more often than not, because he said he did it better than me. True, I’m just not as good at tying pretty knots, but I secretly think he just likes tying things on me. =^.~=
(Smallish side-note. I refuse to wear a boot anymore. For real. When I had to wear a cast when I was younger, it was a HELL of a lot lighter, and more comfortable to wear to bed. The boot in a nightmare of an atrocity, and I will always ask for a cast if possible. Though, hopefully I never break another bone. ::Paw cross::)
After the boot (and, without any xray, because the Dr. didn’t think you’d be able to see the injury on an xray), I was sent off to physical therapy. I was limping very, very badly because the muscles in my leg atrophied a lot, on top of the fact that my foot was still not healed, though I wouldn’t find that out until later.
At that point, walking on my foot was so painful that I was worried it was still broken. Due to the way my insurance works, my Podiatrist told me that the Physical Therapist had to flunk me or else the insurance wouldn’t pay for another MRI. Off to Physical Therapy we went!
The Physical Therapist said he didn’t want to fail me, that he doubted it was broken, and that we would just proceed really, really slowly. He gave me this totally stylist compression sock to wear so that my foot wouldn’t swell up too much (and it totally was swelling up like a boss).
And so I went to physical therapy for two months. They did some massage, used the TENS unit and Fluidotherapy machine on me, and I did improve, very very slowly. I began to feel though that the physical therapist wasn’t listening to me. Whenever I would bring up a complaint, he would just point out that I was doing a lot better than when I went in. It was frustrating. Still, about six weeks after going to physical therapy, I was able to get my foot in a normal shoe. (Thankfully the swelling was starting to go down).
Since I was walking a lot better, and without a crutch, Master and me thought that I would be more than capable of handling a trip to Denver Pride. I made sure to wear sneakers, and my compression sock, and we walked slow and took a lot of breaks. Of course, that wasn’t good enough, apparently though because for the week following Pride, I was limping again and back to a crutch. My Physical Therapist told me to wear the boot again, and so I did.
A week after I was told to wear the boot, the Physical Therapist told me to go get an xray, because I shouldn’t need the boot that long. Of course the xray showed that there was still a break, so of course I opted to just go back to the Podiatrist.
Podiatrist says: “Let’s just take that piece of bone out since it’s tiny and refuses to heal.”
I cry “UNCLE” and just agree.
About four weeks post op, I’m finally able to do all the things I wanted to do with my foot. I have full range of motion, I can hop, jump, jog, kneel, etc. I am still a bit too swollen to fit into a regular shoe, but I’m getting by with a pair of those ugly foam clogs. I usually would never wear those outside of the pool, but I give myself special permission for now. I’m sure I’ll be in my cute shoes again soon.
The point is, that a broken bone is a broken bone, and even small bone breaks can be big pains-in-the-butt. Thank goodness I’m finally mostly better though.
Let’s just go ahead and not do that again. K?