Wednesday, December 14, 2011


After hearing a loud pop come from my ankle I almost froze in time.  I tried not to move an inch as I waited to see what was going to happen next.  I shouldn't have been surprised with what I was treated to after the pop, which was pain.  The pain was strong enough to let me know I was alive, but not enough to call for the wambulance.  Within the next hour the pain intensified and I couldn't put any pressure on my foot/ankle.  When attempting to wiggle my piggies it appeared they were all playing dead, no response.  My ankle and foot felt locked up and everything was very angry at me.  It was like I needed another pop to remedy the situation.

I texted Geo who was in transit from work and said "call me ASAP".  I also texted Nick as a backup escort to the emergency room in case I couldn't track Geo down before he headed to crossfit.  I was ready to scream and texted Geo with "I hurt my foot/ankle and might need to go to the hospital".  Within a few minutes he called and by then I was frantic.  Once he was home he loaded me into the car and off we went to the ER.  Every bump jostled things just enough that I would gasp.  After arriving in the emergency room parking lot Geo gave me a piggie back inside and I was quickly treated to a wheel chair as we checked in.  Geo parked me by a window and then seconds later we were off to explain what happened and get my vitals taken.  Shortly after we were escorted through a dead quiet emergency room where the nurse picked a spot to unload me.  Moments later after I changed into paper pants, such a comical invention, the doctor was ready to see me.  Now I was looking very stylish with my dress shirt and scarf from work on my upper body and paper pants on the bottom.  An even added bonus was that I had thrown on my trucker hat on the way out the door to help hide the tears. A few funny looks from the doctor followed by a few squeezes, pokes and questions and I was told I had a partial to fully torn Achilles tendon.  Ouch, yes because of the pain, but more for the recovery time.

Timber Taking "Good" Care of Me
As I sat with my legs dangling off the table so they could cast it the pain was perpetuating.  Finally time for some pain killers.  As the nurse went to hand me what looked like a thimble of water and a horse pill I accepted them and then said "I think I am going to pass out".  They took the water and pill back and had my lay flat on my back, but insisted they were going to continue to cast.  I was sweating like I was in a sauna and my heart raced like I had just injected an epipen inside it.  Again they took my vitals and the nurse said my pulse was 65, thus what she deemed "normal".  Geo was sure to let her know that was very high for me as I usually am below 40.  Once they were finished casting I was allowed to roll onto my stomach to help easy some of the pain.  While in this position I grabbed my phone and started emailing my orthopedic nurse practitioner Carol.  I filled her in on my latest and greatest injury and told her I was hoping to get in to see her quickly.   After a few minutes beached on my belly I was allowed to try the pain killers again, success!  I checked my phone and already had a response from Carol, a sense of calm came over me as I always know she will take good care of me.  With a few handouts and a prescription for more pain killers I crutched my way out of the hospital in record time of about an hour and a half.

That night I slept in the living room so to avoid the stairs to our bedroom.  As I began staring at the ceiling memories started flooding into my mind from when I spent three months laying in the same spot with my broken femur.  No! I couldn't allow my mind to go there, this wasn't going to be the same deal and I convinced myself that it could be a misdiagnosis.  I told myself that I wouldn't believe anything until it came from Carol.

One Lonely Salomon Shoe
The next day I was on my way to Associates in Orthopedics for my appointment.  After being put in an exam room the nurse cut my bandages and cast open and told me to hold still.  I really wanted to try to walk around, but knowing my luck I would get caught or hurt myself further.  I had a huge sigh of relief when Carol confirmed it was not my Achilles tendon that I hurt, but rather my peroneal tendon.   I was upgraded from crutches and a cast to a lovely black walking boot, you know boots are in this season!

For some reason the black boot made me feel like Hurman Munster as I tried to get my rhythm.  I left the doctors office feeling so thankful that it wasn't my Achilles, as I felt this injury to a tendon that I had never heard of was more manageable for my mind and body.  After just two days the boot was becoming a bother so I began to question "what if"?  My "what if" then turned to asking questions such as "What is the smartest way to be stupid?"  When those exact words came out of my mouth while I was at my physical therapists I was embarrassed yet knew they were truthful.


  1. I wish I could think of a less lame way to say "get well soon, Aliza".

  2. I've been reading your blog for a while, but haven't commented before. I've had several problems with peroneal tendons (everything but complete rupture); I've been able to get back to running quickly after all of them but one - and I stupidly ran with that one too, being careful of how I planted my foot on every step - so I expect you'll recover quickly. Best of luck!

  3. Yuck! Heal quickly! HOpe things are starting to feel better. The great thing is that you came back from a broken femur which was much worse. You'll bounce back quickly from this.

    Just had a flashback to my broken ankle 5 years ago.