Rest, Ice, Elevation and Panic

Doctor’s orders are to get the swelling down in preparation for surgery.  This is going to be a tricky procedure so it is critical to get the swelling down to improve the chances for a successful surgery.  Ice, elevate and rest!

Any surgery is risky and doctors are required to give full disclosure and not over promise.  Dr. D explains that the challenge of this particular procedure is precision placement of the bone.  Basically, Dr. D has to grab that little sliver of bone floating around and like a puzzle piece, put it back exactly where it was.   He will then use three screws to secure the bone.  Bone drilling is risky business because there is always a risk of splitting the bone.  I immediately think of wood working and times when I split wood because I was working too close to the edge. 


I feel like I’m wrapped in a cocoon with Oxycodone.  The whole day is a fog of drifting in and out of a drug induced sleep.   Sleep is a beautiful thing, except when it is interrupted every 5 hours by pain alerting me that it is time for another pill.  In a brief coherent moment I e-mail my boss to let him know that I’m going to be out for much longer than a week. 

I’m too tired to make phone calls.  Also, the Oxycodone gives the wrong impression that I’m drunk at 9:00 in the morning because I’m slurring my words.  I decide the most efficient way to let friends and family know about the accident is to post an entry on Facebook.  In my haze, I do not choose my words wisely and I write the following post:

The good news: I have fantastically strong Achilles tendons! The bad news: My Achilles tendon snapped off a piece of my heel bone and they don't know if they will be able to reposition it back to it's original place. The weird news: This type of injury is typically found in 9 year olds. The great news: I've been... diagnosed as a kid down to the bone!


There is an immediate slew of well intended concern urging me to get a second opinion along with horror stories of a friend’s cousin’s neighbor who never walked again due to a botched surgery.

Normally I’d be able to take these concerns with a rational grain of salt.  But my brain is hazy and in survival mode.  The panic button has been hit hard.  In addition to my throbbing ankle I now have a throbbing anxiety headache.  I e-mail my primary care physician and ask for a referral for a second opinion.  She immediately responds with the contact info for Dr L who can squeeze me in tomorrow.