Today

I have learned how to maneuver with the scooter thing. I have been doing my foot drills (like I was told), and I am finished with the first week of five before I go back to Louisville for the last follow up. I am able to see the top of my ankle bone again. I feel like I am making progress. I am trying to not let the limited mobility stop me from doing the things I love. And I insist on keeping positive thoughts floating around in my head. I am making plans to register for a couple of 5ks in the spring and am truly focused on getting back to tri-training in January. Spin classes start in October so I feel good about that. It will give me a couple of months to get back in stride. Here are some updated pictures of the foot.

Thanks for all the prayers and gifts, and thanks to my coaches and tri-friends for keeping my mind focused. The healing process goes so much faster when you have a destination!

July 28 (back post)

WARNING ****** Visual images are not pretty in this post. On July 28 I went back to Louisville for the reveal of my foot. I had been in a soft cast for 10 days! I was taken to a room that looked like a ton of casts had been put on in there. A hard cast was just not on my agenda. I spent an enormous amount of time praying that I would have been miraculously healed and placed in a boot for a couple of weeks. The young lady that was removing the soft cast asked what color I wanted the hard cast to be. My heart dropped into my stomach. I murmured the color red. She finished unwrapping the yards and yards of material surrounding my ankle and foot. Then she broke (piece by piece) the cotton that was between my skin and the yards of wrap. About twenty minutes into it, I could feel fresh air on my skin. I finally found my inner strength and took a gander at the wreckage attached to my lower leg. I didn't recognize it at first. That couldn't be ATTACHED TO ME! I noticed several staples on top of my foot and they also seemed to go from my pinky toe all the way up past my ankle bone on the outside of my foot. I had to look away and gather my stomach. I looked again and realized I was still holding my breath. I started breathing again and took a closer look. I simply couldn't get a grasp around how I should SURELY be feeling this mess. I think the swelling stopped me from really feeling a whole lot of anything. My heart rate slowed down a bit and I was breathing easier. Then the nurse said, "Okay, this contraption is designed to bend the staple and pull it out". Uhhh...Heart rate is much more rapid now. I asked how badly this would hurt and she said it isn't unbearable....that it will feel like a sting. Okay - how MANY stings? She counted all 24 staples. I flopped back on the bed and slung my arm over my face. I kept thinking about my trip to Mexico and the beach, and tried with all my might to find a happy place.

The surgeon came in and looked at my foot. He told me I should be moving it up and down three or four times a day...and trying to bend my toes as much as possible. He said he would rather NOT put me in a cast because he was afraid of the tendons getting more scar tissue around them. So - I got to go home in a boot. In fact - I DROVE home from Louisville because I was so excited. I also rented a knee scooter to help with mobility. I was told I could start working the next week. Praise GOD! I was on the road to recovery!!!

July 18 (back post)

Alllllllrighty - I am post posting about having surgery on July 18. I went to see my orthopedic surgeon in Owensboro in April. He said the surgery was too extensive for him and believed repairing my tendons would be like "sewing two pieces of wet tissue paper together" so we scheduled an appointment with a surgeon in Louisville. I went to see him and we decided to wait until after school was out AND I had a chance to go to Mexico on vacation....no worries - I will post about that later.... so that put my surgery at the end of July. July 18th - went to Metro surgery center, was prepped for surgery (ankle block and general anesthesia, went to sleep thinking my tendons were going to be repaired and mentally guarding myself regarding any kind of running until next year. Woke up a little foggy. I remember everyone talking and repeating how I would not remember anything they were saying, so they spoke to my husband. We drove home to Owensboro, I went to bed for the next 24 hours. Every four hours I woke up long enough to take the pain meds and drink lots of water. I was so thirsty for cold ice water! Saturday, July 19th - woke up at four and was physically ill. Waited four more hours to finally let my body rid itself of the pain meds. I cannot describe to you the overall grossness of being physically sick with no mobility. I vowed to never take another pain pill as long as I lived. Then the ankle block wore off. I refused the pain pills, but I was more than happy to take the four ibuprofen that my family was offering me. I should mention here that I have an AMAZING family. They make really great nurses and don't mind to sit and visit while one is recuperating. Sunday, July 20th - had a great night's sleep (but the soft cast was heavy and in my way). I woke up starving for real food and wanted to get some questions answered about my surgery. Here is what happened: Instead of repairing severed tendons, the surgeon found that my tendons were not severed....they were completely surrounded with massive amounts of scar tissue. He cleaned the scar tissue off both tendons, broke the top of my foot (where I had overcompensated)and inserted a metal plate that kind of looks like a hinge with several screws, AND pulled a muscle from the under side of my foot around and attached it to the bone on my ankle (to give more support). The next few days were pretty awful. Not because I felt bad really, but because I couldn't really get out of bed. When I did get out of bed it was to use the bathroom or to take a sit down shower - which takes so much effort, energy, and will power that I just couldn't seem to muster. Don't get me wrong - I really did take the showers, but it was so exhausting I would make it back to the bed and lie down for several more hours before attempting to move again. If you are reading these in order...please note that the next post will have graphic images of my foot.

Don't laugh

Don't laugh, but I couldn't remember my password to this blog site. I have fretted and worried over all the thoughts shared here and no way to get the new thoughts out! Fortunately, I have friends in high "tech" places, and my mind music received the breath of life. I have so much to say, and will spend an eternity trying to catch everything up. But just know that I am back. I have SOOOOO missed you!

Death

Five letters, with a capital D. A word with power like no other. Simply amazing, how a simple word can knock you on your knees, make your brain instantly reminisce about your own life, create guilt for not being what should have been, and immediately break down barriers or build up walls of iron. My brother, Mac, called to say that our dad was given a few months to a year to live. I am not going to pretend a false sense of misunderstanding or poor comprehension. Facts are facts and when you dance, you simply have to pay the fiddler. Dad's life would be an easy one to judge, if you were into that kind of thing. He partied pretty hard, and did what he loved. Music made his world go around, and I assume he will have beautiful music in heaven...when that time comes. Here's the thing. I know me. I know that there is a certain amount of guilt in any kind of mourning cycle. I also know that my relationship with my dad has been strained for as long as I can remember. Sometimes (more recently) we were able to let by gones be by gones....and I wish they would stay that way. I don't know if I was the one giving in or if his just not acknowledging them was his way of giving in. I know I talked to him via phone calls on a pretty regular basis. I know that I stayed with him in the hospital when no one else did. I know that I tried with everything I have to be a good daughter - even if I never heard those words uttered from his mouth. Then why am I so riddled with guilt? Anger is another part of the mourning cycle - and I am not presuming to know the socially appropriate order these things go in. Mine seem all jumbled up together, so I guess this is my way of sorting them out (hence the mind music). Back to anger. I am so very angry. I am angry because my son didn't have a relationship with his grandfather - he will never know that side of his own heritage - and I am ANGRY because I don't want him to. The only thing that side of our heritage brought to me was hurt and anguish...I couldn't possibly want that for my child, so why am I angry? Sadness - I am sad. I am sad for my own personal loss, but more importantly I am sad for my brothers...all three of them...in very different ways. Those are stories that are not mine to share - and do not belong in my mind music. Part of my job as a Moad is to protect them - and protect them, I will. Well - the last one, I think is denial. I can't think of anything that should be denied. I am not one to run from anything and I am certainly not an artist whom paints things a different color than what they are. Maybe that is why I am so confused. Perhaps Death is a gray area that I have never had to walk in. Life is made up of complications and puzzles...or it wouldn't be living, right? So with complications and puzzles, you can only really expect to find solutions for what you know or have been educated about. I have no knowledge of death, besides our family pets. My grandparents died (and while I felt sadness, I wasn't there to witness any of it - I was half way across the world). I experienced death in the emergency room where I worked and those were hard to cope with, but they weren't my flesh. Blessedly, I haven't had to deal with the death of a husband, child, brother or parent up to this point. I lost a friend once, and went to her funeral, but I was only 7. Someone handed me a tissue and I could only think that I had something in my nose. I have attended many funerals since then, but none of them had my blood running through them when they were alive. There are no handbooks or binders to explain the proper order of grieving, or how to help your family members through. I looked and they all say there is no one way to do it. I guess, then, I am left doing it the only way I can - and that is my way. If it is wrong or right, we (my brothers and myself) will get through it as a united front. I guess on the bright side, I have them and they have me. That is the best we can do. Dad would never ask us to do more than that.

First Snow of the season Christmas 2012

We had our first real snow of the season yesterday. I was able to get in some early pictures. I was fascinated with the natural black and white feel of the morning.

Estes kid Christmas

Had the best time watching the kids play board games and open up presents with each other. My heart was swollen and pulsing pretty loud in my chest when I realized how grown up my kids are. Lauren brought Adam with her and Comanche had Abby with him. All four were able to enjoy each other and I thought about all of the future holidays we would all spend together...and someday watch thier little ones.