And Now the Wonderful News!

I was told by the emergency room doctor that I have ruptured my Achilles tendon. For those of you that don't know what the Achilles tendon is, here is a good picture of one. It's basically the elastic thing that attaches your calf muscle to your foot and allows you to point your foot down.

A rupture is a complete breaking away of the tendon from the heel of your foot. I know that because during my consult on Friday morning, the doctor performed what is called the Thompson's Test. He squeezed my calf muscles to confirm that there was no movement in the injured foot. You want to fail the test. I passed.

Hey, if you're going to do some damage to yourself, 'rupture' is the way to go.

I am told that there are two options to getting this fixed;

1. Non-surgical. Get a cast and wait until it heals on it's own. Then physio to learn how to walk again. At least 6 months of that. 11% chance of breaking again.

2. Surgical. They go in and reattach the tendon. Hard casts for two months, then walking boot for one, then physio after that. 3% chance of breaking it again. Same chances as a healthy Achilles.

Either way I can look forward to realign my foot every few weeks by removing the cast, resetting the angle, then casting again.

I don't enjoy going/staying at/or visiting hospitals, but why on earth would someone go the non-surgical route? I guess for Americans without enough insurance this could cost a pretty penny, but here in Canada our tax dollars cover almost everything.

After discussing it with my wife for about 10 seconds, I opt for the surgery. The doctor quickly confirms a spot in surgery, and we're off to the races.

I won't go into the weird wait in line to get into the OR (hey lady, if you didn't want the nosejob, why did you come back TWICE?). Anyway, once it's my turn, they knock me out, flip me on my stomach and do their magic with the scalpel, needle and thread. About an hour later I'm in the recovery room and waking up.

One thing I forgot to mention; at every point in my journey, and with every NEW hospital staff that my wife and I met, they all asked me to confirm what foot it was and what was wrong with it. Did they not have it written down somewhere? Have they made a mistake and worked on the wrong body part in the past? Kind of scary but I guess necessary.

My love takes me home to start my recovery on Friday afternoon. Not even 24 hours after the injury.

Weekend Warrior Gets Whacked!

A little background first which I'll break up into a few posts tonight and tomorrow:

So last night, my neighbour invites me and two others to play a friendly game of squash at a local community centre. That day I go to SportChek and pick up a good pair of Nikes with gel soles (so I won't slip, of course).

I hadn't played squash in over ten years. My wife and I were members of a squash club and visited it many times a week. I played squash, she did aerobics (with the occasional squash game with me). But once the kids were born, and work got more intense, we gave it up.

I did about 10 minutes of stretching my hams/Achilles/shoulders/etc. while I was waiting my turn to get my butt kicked by my neighbour. We had one court and were switching in and out and played for about 45 minutes.

I'm really getting warmed up and getting in some nice moves and good points. I hit a good one and waited for a volley. The second I went for it with a quick forward lunge off my right foot, I went down like a ton of bricks. It felt like I caught my heel under the glass door of the court or that I had hit myself in the ankle with my own racquet!

The guys watching said that my foot never left the court but my leg and body tried to go forward without it.

I was rushed to SouthLake Regional Health Centre in Newmarket, admitted to emergency. About an hour or so later (pretty quick for Canadian healthcare waiting times) I was put into a cast and sent home (because Orthopaedic surgeons don't work at midnight) with an appointment made for the next day to get surgery/consultation in the fracture clinic.

My wife of course has seen this too many times before; I go out with the guys, I get hurt, I call her to explain (I can see her in my mind slowly closing her eyes and shaking her head), then we're off to "recovery". She then forces me to lounge around the house and then I get quickly get into trouble when I try to do things as if I don't have a 5lb plaster cast on some part of my body.

I am lucky to have a woman like her!