The Story of Achilles: Chapter 3

I was supposed to have physiotherapy yesterday. When I checked the appointment card before leaving home, it didn't have a time, but rather a note to call. So I called.

The therapist and I had a brief banter about my leg and my activities and she concluded that I could continue at home as there was nothing we could do at therapy that I could not do (better) at home. Ultra-sound was the last aspect (for the pain and nerve damage) and that was now obsolete. "Congrats and keep up the good work," she said. When I started therapy a few days after taking off the cast, they told me it would be six to nine months before I could use the leg with any real significance.

It has been four months and 11 days since surgery.

Tomorrow will be just three months since taking off the cast!

And here's the magic news... I actually jogged yesterday. Yes, there was something of a limp in every stride, but it was surely much more than walking quickly! My initial goal was to be running again by the end of the year, but it seems that will not even be a consideration. Perhaps I need to aim even higher... like climbing the Pitons again before the end of the year. Hmmm... We'll see how it goes after carnival which happens in a hair's breadth over a month from now.

Funnily enough, a friend approached me to join our parkour movement yesterday. I guess time really doesn't wait. Why should I?

The new chapter begins.

I ran last Friday.

Truthfully, "run" is just the simple excuse of a description.

It wasn't as chaotic as tumbling.

It definitely wasn't a graceful as sprinting.

It was rapid movement down a hill, chasing after my three dogs, using my legs

...

mostly...

somewhat.

The more in depth description involved a great deal of primal movement that has become second nature to me. Over the past two and half years, since adopting (as best as I can) the primal/paleo lifestyle much has changed, and even much more has happened. Today marks four months and four days since my Achilles tendon rupture. Two and a half months since I have been out of a cast. I am walking without the inverted commas/quotation marks. I am working out old-school primal/paleo style. And I am able to walk barefoot comfortably again.

*Digression: living barefoot is more comfortable to me than wearing shoes in any scenario (I consider wearing Vibram Fivefingers as going barefoot still). But with an inflexible tendon, comfort gave way to the physical inability to place my heel flat on the floor with my leg straight, hence the need for shoes with inserts.*

So while I amazed myself in moving so quickly all of a sudden, I am not so surprised that I am able to, all things considered. I have learned to adapt subconsciously to every situation I come across - be it conquer, change or submit - with remarkable fluidity. So "running" without the full use of my leg, while improbable, was not impossible for when it was called.

Step by step

Wow. Moving with only one crutch is excruciatingly tedious. That said, the tendon is realising that we are not playing anymore.

# Not so random thought: can you compress "we are not" to "we'ren't"? #

The quad, hamstring, calf and hip flexor exercises are now starting to pay off for more than aesthetic purposes. So we soldier on.

The Story of Achilles: The hare and the tortoise

12 weeks post-op. Two weeks ago, three weeks into physiotherapy, the therapist said I should start experimenting with putting weight on my injured side (although I had already taken a few unassisted steps and started riding again). Today, five weeks into therapy, she is frustrated with the doctors lack of follow-up attention and prescribes I use one crutch for the next two weeks, on stable ground - it's still raining although dry season has technically supposed to have begun. I can see the need to remove the crutches as soon as sensibly possible. I am already highly dependent on them if only for the sake of efficiency and fun, but at the cost of development. It is much easier and faster to use two crutches and one leg, than one crutch and two legs. But that means it would take twice as long for the recovering leg to learn it's basic functions again. To move faster tomorrow, I need to slow down and move steadily today.

I clearly have not stuck to the photo project.

Ouch

Over the four-day weekend I rode south for to consecutive days. I learnt how much depends on the proper functioning of one tendon. Without the ability to lift my body off the seat at a moments notice, my spine became an extension of my Suzuki GSXR-600's rear shock. Not comfortable. Today the lower back is paying for my indulgence and insolence.

The Story of Achilles: Get out, get down

I’m losing count of time again. Daybreak. Sunset. Moonlight. Repeat. I have tangible physical progress with my Achilles tendon, but with only abstract relation to previous benchmarks. February 2nd between five and six in the evening is the start, and since then every moment has been registered in history by the moments prior to it rather than by date. Days, weeks and months have lost their respective order. It is disconcerting only to the end that my goals are becoming abstract concepts of the future instead of a linear path of achievement.

I started riding again [recently].

I finally visited the origin of this particular journey [recently].

It’s Holy Week leading up to the most important event in my faith.

The Story of Achilles: How deep is your sole?

I’ve been dedicated to the strict regimen of therapy, and obsessed with getting off the reliance on crutches as soon as possible. I have become so accustomed to them, they are now accessories, toys, play things, getting more in the way than helping me along the way.

Progress.

Three insoles in my sneaker. One deep breath.

The Story of Achilles: Therapy Works

Two months post-op and I believe I've gone quite far along the road back to normal.

*sudden realisation*

Until I typed those words, it hadn't tangibly occurred to me just how long I've been sidelined. I have been simply facing each day and planning the next. This state of constantly striving for millimeters of flexibility, muscle control and abstract strength is my normal. Hmm.

I can stand completely unaided (almost, depending on wind conditions) and can now walk (hobble Quasimodo style) with only one crutch. The swelling still occurs when I forget to elevate and use the warm water bottle during the days at work. The nerve damage caused by the cast on the top of my foot which makes my toes tingle is subsiding, which indicates the ultrasound is doing what the therapists said it would. I need to remember to start a weekly photo-journal.

The Story of Achilles: Almost 90 degrees in the shade

This morning after taking the dogs out I did Ab Ripper X. No breaks, all the way. Stay strong!

I can almost touch the ground with my heel already. I can stand without the crutches but still can't put any serious weight on the right leg, much less even take a step, but the flexibility is improving noticeably with every stretch / massage / exercise session I do - and I do that at least three times a day on non-therapy days. I've been substituting heat therapy with muscle rub out of convenience/laziness. Sometimes while stretching I wonder what it looks like from the inside. I iam not sure if it is my imagination or reality, but I believe I can feel the tendon grasping onto the nylon sewn in place and its own repairing fibres. Unnerving.

This morning I saw some of the veins running across my calf and shin again ... sign that they muscles are alive and breathing again.

The Story of Achilles: Therapy Begins

Today was the first day of physiotherapy. My right leg is wasted, inflamed, numb, somewhat atrophied. I couldn't wait to get the ball rolling.

Ultrasound

Heat wrap

Massage

Stretch

Exercise

Life's Little Pleasures

- bending a knee when sitting

- turning over in bed without having to wake up

- wet grass underfoot

- taking a shower and feeling that cold water run down from head to toe

Clean and clear

Freedom Friday

They told me everything I need to do, when to do it, and how. But didn't tell me anything in terms of what to expect:

"Your skin will be dry - clean it and keep it moisturised."

It didn't flake. It didn't peel much. It was so dry, when the first drops of water touched my skin, a cream appeared. My skin had disintegrated into a fine dust held fast by the cast. After ten minutes of scrubbing the muck, dried cotton and dead hair follicles off my leg and foot, a layer of dermis below started to flake and peel. Another 15 minutes of cleansing, and a half cup of baby oil later, my limb is presentable enough to wear shorts in public.

"You need to massage and work flexibility back into the tendon. It will be stiff."

Understatement of the day.

Stiff is what your neck feels like after falling asleep on someone's lap. Stiff is chewing gum you saved to eat dinner, then thought you could use again after dessert. Stiff is not what your Achilles tendon is after six weeks of immobility. My tendon is as hard as glacial packed rock. My first massage made my finger tips tender and seemed only to help remove some more dead skin.

"..."

They didn't say anything about the soreness in my knee. Common sense told me the joint would require some getting used to the freedom, but this much internal restriction should be cataloged somewhere. The massaging helps, but I see proactive exercises for the thigh and knee in the very short future.

"Have a good weekend."

Okay, that one works for me. You too!

*UPDATE*

Three hours and at least five massages since coming home and the rock hard tendon is giving way to the stiff one I was told to expect. I can now move it side to side. Progress faster than I could have imagined, but not hoping for more than I receive.

Tomorrow

The perfect clip from one of my favorite movies as a child, rediscovered recently as an adult. There's no better way to describe how I feel today.

Where are you?

At random moments throughout the day I find myself down long pondering trips and wonder where I was that I needed to be found. So I came here, only to lose what I thought was worth keeping from my wandering wondering.

. . . 42 . . .

I thought you would be excited, not as much as I am of course, but at least a little, as this will be a good event. But instead you found something to be worry about. I am having a hard time keeping up the positive attitude. I am sure you notice that more and more, I withdraw and leave it be, rather than deal with whatever. I still can't tell if this is harder or the easy way out. It isn't my nature, but neither is living under this ominous cloud, constantly battered by unpredictable turmoil. And don't think for a moment I don't understand the turmoil, or can't appreciate it. Nature played different games with us, and we learnt to face the storm differently.

Monkey

Despite the fact that I always say this to multitudes of situations, "The monkey said to" finally made sense to me today. It means, "Why ask why?" There is no reason or purpose behind the line other than to be. That's it. It's not a question. It's not an insult. It isn't directed to any person, animal or thing. And there are no monkeys involved.

Example:

"What are you doing?"

"I thought it might help"

"How could you think doing that would possibly help??"

"The monkey said to."

Get it?

Sometimes, what we do is bigger than us - clear to one, lost on another. Sometimes, you just do what you do because it is what you do for the greater good. Sometimes, there's no reason that will be understood because it applies to something else, but this one action in life affects so many others unknown to us. Sometimes we just find ourselves stumbling along a path we have no recollection finding in the forest of our minds. Sometimes we stay on, following it through. Sometimes we realise, just in time, we need to get off. And sometimes when we try to think back of why or how ... sometimes, there is no reason.

Get your move on. Now.

I think the ratio between time and tolerance is exponentially inversely proportional. By the time you digest that, I will be six million to the 24th power as impatient as I was just thinking about it when I wrote this. “Freedom Friday” is just over 66 hours away.

Yes, I am counting down.

And yes, I am down to 66 hours.

And yes, it is excruciatingly slow after the unbelievably rapid past five weeks, three days, 16 hours.

Most people don’t realise that the cast removal is only the first step - no, “step” is really inappropriate at this stage in getting back on my feet. Walking will be yet another countdown away. But we will ... *sigh* why can I only think of the lamest action metaphors right now?

Enjoy your movement while it is still yours to enjoy.

He's not heavy, he's my cast.

Only one more week left in the cast. I can't get comfortable enough to sleep more than an hour at a time, but now it is because the knowledge that I am so much closer to freedom makes the constriction almost unbearable. Physically, not much has changed, but mentally it seems the cast is a ball and chain, a burden I cannot shake off soon enou...*

# sudden realisation #

Physically, something HAS changed - drastically. The five weeks of inactivity have affected my left leg. My thigh is visibly slimmer, I can fit my hand all the way past my knee now. But it never occurred to me that my entire limb, not just the tendon, is also significantly weaker.

The burden is real.

The dog days are (almost) over.

The little one had surgery - removal of an abscess and neutering. Our house has been uncharacteristically calm and not so smelly for the past two days. I wait, not holding my breath, to see if the changes last.

The older one's ears are being treated for who-knows-what. At least he isn't scratching the life out of them for the moment. And again, the house is not so smelly for it.

The little lady in the middle remains the constant in our pack.

Office Day

Today is the fourth day in the office after starting my new job ... five weeks ago. It's ironic how having the cast - which signifies an injury - makes most people move very cautiously around me, when the very cast makes me more invulnerable to injury than anyone else around.

The Story of Achilles: Open Mouths and Pelau

Four weeks down, two more to go.

The padding in the cast, especially around my knee, is wearing thin. In less than a week I have mentally moved from apprehension to impatience towards the day the cast is removed.

I dream about taking a long, full shower. I can’t wait to float and soak in the ocean. I want to bend my knee and get back on my motorcycle, wearing my new helmets.

I have no false fantasies about running, jumping or even walking yet though. One step at a time. I really just want this cast off.

The inevitable loss of size in my leg is now glaringly evident as my thigh floats in the mouth of the fibreglass shell. My knee cracks frequently having more lateral movement available instead of its nature-intended flexions. Overall however, I am glad I have not fluctuated more than two pounds. Push-ups, pulls-ups, core exercises ensure I maintain some form and frame.

I’m having pelau for lunch.