C-

One year after an adductoplasty

Author’s note: I’m writing this, really, for myself, to add to the record of my adductoplasty adventure and not to whine. That may surprise you because in this piece, I do some major whining. Feel free to scroll on.

To be fair, I never really asked.

I never queried my doc asking: “So, can I expect a full recovery, full mobility after this surgery?”

I was unpracticed, naive, and this was the first time that I’d “gone under” (except for 10 minutes back in 1982 when the dentist anesthetized me to yank 2 wisdom teeth out of my head) and… I’d never, ever, had any kind of orthopedic surgery.

My doc was very confident. She explained what would happen to me in the surgery (lots of bones to be moved around, tendons cut and reattached, and some titanium plates and screws added to hold everything in place…) and I really liked her. She was smart and listened to my (few) questions and I felt as though I were in good hands. I probably was in good hands. The C- success rate that I have experienced now, one year later, may not have been her fault. But I wanted- and expected- more.

My early days of recovery went right on schedule- if not a little better than expected. I graduated from the scooter to crutches, from the dreaded boot to a very large sneaker, and except for one small incision problem that led to a course of antibiotics, things were pretty good.

The doc didn’t think that I needed physical therapy but everyone that I talked to thought that was crazy. So when I asked for a third time, she wrote me a scrip and I attended dutifully twice a week for three months (and did exercises at home) to address problems with my ankle and hips, my arch, and the still tender toes.

At some point, it appeared that I had a stress fracture. (See previous post) and so I had my first adventure with steroids. (I didn’t think that the steroids did anything for me until I had a mystical experience early on Easter morning and later that day I found myself weeping while distributing communion…)

It was about this time that I just went silent about my old foot. Six months into all of this, no one wanted to hear about my foot anymore. I don’t blame them. I didn’t want to hear about it either. But in my final appointment with the doc which was at the end of May (7 full months after surgery) things still weren’t great. My big toe was “frozen,” my middle toe didn’t move at all on command and drifted over to cross over my fourth toe, and, my index toe was becoming a “hammer toe.” Add significant numbness on the top of the foot and in all but one toe and …. C-. My balance, too, was (and is) horrendous because only my pinky toe actually touched (touches) the ground in bare feet. I became a liability without shoes and in the shower, holding on to every grip bar and bannister available to me.

I guess that’s just the way it goes. When I seemed discouraged at the doctor’s office she reminded me that this was “major surgery.” “We rebuilt your foot,” she told me.

Another friend who had similarly invasive surgery on his foot told me that it “takes a year.”

OK. It’s a year. But it’s still, a C-. Still, a toe refuses to move, and still that toe drifts around, still my big toe is stuck, and my balance is horrendous and my foot is super numb.

I went on a solo backpacking trip in August (see two posts about that) and was determined to “be okay.” I was okay- or as okay as I ever am, climbing mountains. I was tired and winded but my feet held up until the last day when I went down a steep descent and jammed my toes into the front of my boots but.. that’s normal.

I’m going to keep hiking. I’m going to keep walking. I’m going to live my “normal” life even though my right foot would rather stay home.

A need a surgery on my left foot. Maybe not as extensive as the other foot, but I’m scared. I guess I need a new doc, too, though that makes me very sad. And, I may just carry on, and not do it at all. Time will tell.

This entry is for posterity’s sake, and I’ll go back to being quiet about my foot. Both of them.

Cheers.