March 12, 2025
On Tuesday 2/25, I had a cheilectomy. Two big arthritic dorsal bone spurs removed from the second major joint in my big toe. Sounds pretty simple. Not a big deal.Grind down the bone growth, grind some space between the joint, sew her up and we're out.
But the nerves are mangled, bruised and distorted as result and can often take a year to heal. It’s worse at night when the electricity pulses through my foot like a shock, stinging and sharp, or dull and pulsing throughout the night. Also, because your foot is an extremity and the capillaries are so small, swelling can take an equal time to resolve. Since it’s my right foot, I may not be able to drive for 6 weeks since the numbness poses an issue with braking in a timely fashion. This all is driving my independent mind NUTS.
But post-operatively speaking, I wasn't so bad.
"Make sure your family treats you likes a princess," they said as I left the surgical facility.
The moment I got home, my ride hit the bed like a lead weight and I made myself a turkey sandwich. I procured the ice I was instructed to utilize behind my knee as I was not supposed to put it directly on my incision site. I made my pillows ready for elevation, readied my antibiotics, pain pills, nerve pills and cleaning wipes beside my bed (for the iodine made it appear I was eating Cheetos with my toes) and channel surfed for the most inappropriate reality TV show I could dose off to for the next couple of hours.
I got my walker in place and headed to the bathroom in my cam boot.
Digging through the drawer, I found the cold medicine and the thermometer. I took his temperature, got him a glass of water and made him take the little Benzonatate pearls so I wouldn’t have to hear him coughing for the next several hours.
“Did you make an appointment yet?” I asked?
“No, they don’t have anything available on MyChart,” he dramatically replied.
“No. You need to CALL THEM. They will always be able to squeeze you in as they reserve spots for this very reason. You’re off today. Call the damn doctor or I’m calling them for you,” I scolded.
“I can call the doctor myself—”
“CAN YOU?!” I screamed, “Because it doesn’t seem like!”
Like I needed one more thing to top the day off.
Viola! He was able to get in within the next hour.
Influenza A.
Not much he could do for himself but at least I could take a preventative.
Of course, the little guy got it next and then the big one. After that, we rolled right into a double ear infection + strep throat for Mister and strep for the middle child. There was no rest for my 2-week FMLA; just volleying meds between kids and trying to keep them separate. Stop them from fighting. I wasn’t supposed to use the stairs but laundro had to be done to stave off germs and no one else was going to do it. No one else was going to sanitize surfaces or prepare meals (despite the lessened quality of said meals), clean the bathrooms or rotate towels.
The hardest days were the first two where I was taking pain meds every 4 hours + max Ibuprofen in between but by day 3 I was decreasing meds, off the crutches/walker and the biggest pains came the fam.
All this has made me realize that I’m not depressed because of my circumstance as much as I’m depressed because I do not NEED this. Why have this when I can do it all on my own? Other than the damn drive home, I needed nothing. I wanted nothing more. The details are bogging me down. The noise around me is too loud. All it is is disappointing when you hold expectations to have someone help you and they do not. I’d rather not have to have that at all than to be disappointed by it. I’d rather help myself. Take care of myself. I’m better at it.
I’ll grow a pair one of these days.