I debated between doing my second Sky Watch and sharing a bit of my charmed life.
I opted for sharing.
My slightly swollen, hurts a bit ankle turned out to be a tibial tendon tear. Posterior tibial for those who are all medical like.
Tibial Tendon Tear Toots!
I will admit to a bit of self-pity. The ankle twisted because my poor left side takes a beating when my back is out. Because of the scoliosis (spine curve) I have a screwed up center. If I was on ‘Dancing With the Stars’ they’d be talking about my core of gravity handicap.
I have scoliosis because I was raised by wolves. Neglectful parents who ignored all letters and calls from several doctors. It almost ended up in Family Court but this was the 50s and child neglect was usually swept back behind closed doors.
Scoliosis is 100% treatable in the first 10 years of your life. The success rate plunges from then on. By the time I was 20 and capable of attempting to do something on my own the success rate of the surgery was less than 5% and required 12 to 18 months of recovery and therapy and movement restrictions. I was alone with a 3 year old – not a risk I could afford to take – certainly not at those odds.
This always comes up and smacks me in the face each time I see a new Dr. Inevitably the question “why wasn’t this taken care of?” is asked. Then we go through all the things that are happening because a severe spine curvature kinda messes with your body. It makes me quiet for a spell, usually brings out some old anger issues and then makes me cry.
Need a cart for all that baggage?
I had to wait 3 hours for the Docs office to finally get my insurance company to certify the MRI. It had to be done right then since the world pretty much stops for Labor Day Weekend and the Imaging place takes days to give you an appointment.
So while I waited I entertained the troops. The office staff is wonderful. There was a lovely older lady getting therapy for her new hip and a young guy who messed himself up playing basketball.
We played – “How did Di get injured?”
My two most popular scenarios were:
While indoctrinating Vin Diesel into the Mile High Club I lost my footing on the bathroom wall. If you’d like to see why I was wasting my valuable air time on Vin check out what TAMMY posted.
I was on the back of George Clooney’s motorcycle being chased by the paparazzi through the streets of some Italian village. As is always the case when George is near me he lost control.
I thought you all might like a peek at the new fall shoe fashions:
I do have an onsite therapist. Here he is at work:
And here he is leaving since the insurance company limits therapy sessions. Look how I managed to color coordinate my big ass boot to Siren’s highlights.
Please feel free to make up your own “How Di got injured” scenario. It is far more entertaining than rifling through my baggage.