Almost 3 years out!

I’m 58 days from being 3 years out from Achilles surgery. Still not a regret in the world, other than maybe waiting so long.

I have a confession. Shhhh … I’m gonna try Crossfit tomorrow. eeep!

I’ve had bouts of plantar fasciitis (other foot) and a hamstring/knee injury sustained from flying off my Jetski and cartwheeling over the water (comically, I’m sure) – but now I’m ready to do the things that i wasn’t able to when the Achilles pain held me back.

At 45 years old, I’m ready to do Crossfit. Yikes.

2+ years out

I still get the occasional visitor and comment (thanks for that!) and it reminds me I should probably update.

Two Novembers ago, I went into surgery thinking that even if it only worked 50% as well as the surgeon assured me it would, it still had to be better than the way I was currently living.

So, two years out, where am I? Well, if not for this scar on my heel, I’d wonder if all the pain and limping and misery were all just a figment of my imagination. Seriously. It feels that good. It’s to the point now that I don’t stop every time I’m going up steps and marvel at the fact that I can do that without pain. Or hop out of the ambulance at work and wonder “Should I do that? Will it ruin the repair?” When I wear bad shoes now, I get plantar fasciitis just like every other middle aged overweight person in the world, not excruciating heel pain.  We walked around the amusement park the other night, taking in the holiday lights, and not once did I think about my foot. The whole first year for me was one of milestones. The first time I did this or that again. The first time I did something that would cause excruciating pain in the past that now didn’t. Year 2 has been about forgetting.

Make no mistake about it – the first six months are going to be painful. The first year, there will be times that it flares up and you’re going to wonder if you did the right thing. Ice. Rest. Stretch. Keep going. Around 18 months out, I stopped thinking about it daily. Two years out, it seems like it happened to someone else.

Six months, a year, two years. It seems like forever. Now it seems like forever ago.

 

Vacation 21 months out vs 8 months out

What a difference (about) a year makes.

Last July, I still had some twinges after lots of walking around Myrtle Beach in flip flops and Sperrys. The most painful day ended with mini golf on a steep hillside course in those super flat Sperrys.

This year, back Maine and Acadia National Park. Vivid memories in my from 4 years ago, remembering how I carefully crept around on enormous granite boulders, wondering if the next step or hop was going to be what finally did my Achilles in. Pain halfway through the day, but I wasn’t letting that stop me.

This trip – awesome. Hopping from boulder to boulder, hiking up slippery granite trails. Flip flops, Sperrys, hiking boots, Merrell water shoes – didn’t matter. No pain, not even a twinge. This trip was exactly what I had in mind when I fantasized about having a strong Achilles. What I conjured up in my head when physical therapy got tough, when I iced my Achilles for the entire day afterward. Thanks again to my surgeon and my therapist. I feel like I have my life back.

Something of a setback?

I haven’t posted for awhile because I’ve been off living my life

I haven’t really had any setbacks… until now. We spent a really hard week at a friend’s house helping her get it ready for her to move in. This involved lots of climbing ladders, squatting, running up and down weirdly spaced basement steps, and hours upon hours of standing on a hard concrete basement floor (painting kitchen cabinet doors). Followed of course by moving her stuff from a 3 story townhouse. By the last day I had dug my heel wedges out and put them in my shoes.

I’ve had a lot of bottom of foot pain, which I expected – the type you get when you’re on your feet all day. However I also developed some burning and throbbing in the achilles (repaired side), probably about mid tendon, way superior to the repair and anchors. I know my calves and tendons are tight and have been stretching and making sure I wear shoes in the house, but it’s still there – albeit getting a little better every day.

I’m trying to walk a fine line between stretching to keep it all flexible and actually aggravating the pain more (which is what it feels like when I’m stretching). The good news, I guess, is that I’m not having the retrocalcaneal pain or sensitivity that preceded the development of the Haglund’s deformity and led to surgery. Been stretching, resting, using minimal ibuprofen when it gets bad. I guess I’m trying to figure out if this would be better treated with just everyday walking and the usual stuff I was doing in physical therapy, or if that would aggravate it more and I should just rest for a few days. Or call my surgeon. I guess I’ll give it a few days…

 

About 17 months out

I finished a 4 mile walk today profoundly grateful for being able to take a walk, climb steps, even break into a sprint if I want to – and still be able to walk the next day. 18 months ago, this was not possible.

Daily life today:

• 10000 steps a day, minimum. My hip flexors and psoas on both sides may need deep tissue release every other day, but my Achilles is rock solid. Even a couple months ago, I still needed to stretch the Achilles frequently. Not so much the case today. Though, I probably should make it more of a habit.
• No pain or stiffness walking uphill. No twinges or sudden tearing pain if I break into a sprint.
• No swelling, no more twinges, no issues with any of my shoes.
• Wellbutrin was an absolute life saver for s.a.d. – I may wean off for spring and summer, as I’m feeling like me again, but if I do, I’ll be starting it the last week of September again.
• The dog is happier.
• I am happier.
• No regrets. Well, maybe one. Not doing the surgery sooner.

S.A.D.ness

So I have been having a little difficulty getting myself out of the house. Every year like clockwork, a dark curtain descends. Seasonal Affective Disorder wallops me upside the head like a fastball of despair and torpor. Heaped upon the lethargy and intermittent hopelessness is the yearly refrain of self recrimination: “You should have seen this coming.”

It’s really easy for somebody to say, “Just make yourself go take a walk/go to the gym/do yoga/>insert feel-good activity here< everyday.” I’m positive I’ve even said that to others, in the smug tone of the unaffected. I know I have said it to myself more times than I can count, undoubtedly in a contemptuous tone. And I don’t know how to explain, its just not that easy. Something in my brain chemistry shuts off as soon as the sun disappears. It makes you feel like you’re legitimately going crazy. One day you’re upbeat and energetic; the next, you’re sucking up carbs like a Hoover and seem to be unable of movement – unless it’s to the couch or fridge. It’s almost imperceptible, that is until the sun comes out again, and I feel like someone slipped me some speed.

Having said that, I don’t quite know how I ended up out for a walk on a day as craptastic as today. First, snow. Pretty, walkable. Before we left it had turned to sleet and finally to my worst enemy: cold winter rain. But we were already out, and you don’t say no to a German Shepherd all leashed up and ready for her walk. So we walked.

At some point during our quick mile, I realized where I was this time last year. Just cleared to leave the boot and crutches behind, eagerly looking forward to physical therapy, walks with the dog, and getting back to life in general. I remember trying to walk this same stretch; how plodding and hoppy and downright painful it was. How I could only go half a mile at first, then had to rest and ice my Achilles after. How the slight rightward grade in the path seemed so uneven and scary to my stiff and newly repaired foot. The absolute concentration it took to maintain the heel to toe gait, remembering to finish up on my toe with each stride. The pain of strengthening those atrophied muscles and tendons again.

Today it was effortless. I could have walked five miles if I’d had the desire to. The Achilles pain that had been my constant cranky companion – gone. Not a trace of it. I thought to myself, “Look how far you’ve come! Remember what this was like last January?” Maybe an approach of wonderment and gratitude will be the trick.

I dare you to say no to this face.

One year out today!

It has truly been a marathon, and full recovery does truly take a year. Having said that, I would do this all over again if I needed to. Life is so much better without limping and hopping and waiting for the painful pluck on the frayed tendon that randomly came, with or without me moving.

Every morning that I get out of bed and put both of my feet flat on the floor, walking painlessly with a normal gait, well… that is worth a year of recovery to me. It’s not a year off your feet. It’s 8-12 weeks off your feet and 9 more months of incremental, almost imperceptible, progress.

9 months of occasional swelling or burning or twinges where you wonder, did I do the right thing? Did I do this all for nothing? The answer, in my case, is yes, this was absolutely the right thing. If nothing else, recovery from achilles surgery teaches you patience and teaches you that consistency brings results. Even in the past month I have noticed a progression in my flexibility and strength.

So, if you’re miserable, get a surgeon and therapist you trust, and take the leap. Then trust the process.

Things I wish I’d known pre and post op

• First and foremost – This thing! http://iwalk-free.com/crutch-testimonials/ Only $149 and your insurance may cover it anyway?? Shut up and take my money!! If there was one thing I could choose to redo about my recovery, this is it. I would have had this, and would have saved myself scary moments on the stairs and transitioning from wet parking lots to slick floors. I did a lot of hopping because I hated the crutches so much. Had a lot of close calls when I was supposed to be completely non weight bearing, where I almost landed on my Boot Foot. The shoulder pain from the crutches. Oh God, the shoulder pain. Sometimes it would keep me up at night and was definitely worse, at times, than the post op pain. If I ever find myself non weight bearing again, I will have this.
• A frozen bottle of water will be your best friend for the first few weeks of full weight bearing. The bottom of your heel will feel painful and even crunchy your first few weeks of full weight bearing. You will think to yourself, “What the hell have I done? I had surgery to get rid of heel pain!” Thing is, it’s a totally normal response of the fascia to transitioning back to full weight bearing. Roll the painful areas on the bottom of your foot on that frozen tube of bliss for as long and as forcefully as you can stand to. Don’t stop til the painful areas are numbed. Repeat as often as necessary.
• You will need a backless shoe for around the house for awhile. Some recommend Crocs; I personally believe those holes in Crocs are where your  dignity escapes. I had a pair of Merrell clogs that were a godsend, and bonus – I’m not embarrassed to wear them out in public now, so $80 well spent.
• As for the long term outlook for your shoe collection – don’t make any hasty decisions. Seriously. Give it a year. Shoes that bother your incision area at 15 weeks out may not bother the area at 6 months out, or 11 months out. I hastily re-homed a pair of Merrell low cut hikers, and I’m regretting it, because other shoes I thought I’d never be able to wear again, feel fine now.
• Physical Therapy is at least 50% of the equation for recovery. Don’t skip it! Even if you don’t go 3x/week, a good physio will keep you progressing through range of motion and strengthening. Those were two very distinct phases in my recovery – both equally important. You won’t get to strengthening until you get more r.o.m. and you won’t get back to normal gait and activities without strengthening.
• Exactly a year ago today, I had my pre-op xrays and scheduled my surgery. I can’t believe a year went by so quickly. If you’re worried about the recovery time, read that previous sentence again. Recovery time truly is just a blip in the grand scheme, though when you’re in the middle of it, it feels like forever.

Ten Months Out

So, ten months out from Haglund’s surgery, I guess it’s a good time for another update.

Got a little worried on vacation in July; we were at the beach and I was barefoot and in flip flops and super flat Sperrys every day. I was noticing some swelling and tightness in the retro calcaneal area every day. Turns out I just shouldn’t wear shoes without a tiny bit of heel padding or elevation on an everyday basis. Or, more specifically, walk a couple miles going back and forth to the beach in shoes that flat. Couldn’t really do it pre op either, so no biggie. Once I started wearing my regular New Balance trainers and work boots again every day it was back to normal.

Definition of normal these days:

Being able to get out of bed and put both feet flat on the floor without pain.

Being able to speed walk again (as much as I can with these Polish tree trunk legs of mine). No pain, no limping.

Easily going up onto my toes on my op foot. Balance on both feet now almost equal. I don’t know when the single calf raise became easier. I was doing them with much effort and some pain before I finished PT. Gradually as my calf became stronger it just happened.  End of PT definitely does not mean end of recovery time.

Able to do kettlebell swings and squats without pain/stiffness. Doing short kettlebell Tabatas every day has led to a quick overall increase in strength and flexibility.

Walking is no longer painful. The closest thing to pain these days is stiffness. A quick stretch fixes that. Back to enjoying walks and hikes with the dog.

Steps: finally got the spring back in my push off and can run up the steps like I used to. Minus the feeling of my Achilles feeling like a guitar string being plucked by a sharp claw.

Walking uphill: I can walk uphill easily now! Without pain! Without skewing my foot laterally to take the strain off my Achilles. Without hurting for days and weeks after. It has made golf so much more fun, since I’m always hitting my ball down over some damn hillside.

Ten months out, I think I can say definitively that I am back to 100%. Before I had this surgery, I was understandably concerned at how long I’d be off work, or what my abilities would be when I did go back. I pinned my surgeon down with that question and he gave me best case scenario of 3 months off and worst case of 6 months off. Scary stuff, the prospect of being off work 6 months. It really is true that if he had told me full recovery would take 10 months, it might have scared me off of surgery. However, the progress is so incremental. All of a sudden I notice that I’m doing something without pain. Things that used to lay me up for weeks are now effortless. There was a time during recovery that every time I got up from sitting or got out of the car, I was limping for the first many steps. That has improved so gradually that I cannot even say when it got better.

Looking back now at the grind and small frustrations of this long recovery, I can now see that that time was just a blip in the grand scheme, and so worth it, in the long run. To be able to get moving from the time I get out of bed to the time I fall back into my bed, exhausted – without constant pain, without having to worry about at what point in the day I would be in too much pain to enjoy our active lifestyle, without the constant pain, swelling and limping that accompanied every day, without the restrictions it began to impose on every aspect of my life – I am so thankful I had the means to pursue this surgery and recovery.

I was reminded by a recent comment to this blog that there are people out there, like me, who wanted to know what the day-to-day experience was/is. I remember searching tirelessly, myself, for personal accounts – so I felt I owed a big-picture update. The big picture is good! 

Life isn’t perfect

I’m still sore at the end of some days. That is what happens when you go from PT 3 days a week to back to your part desk jockey/part climbing/jumping/stepping/carrying/unpredictable movements job. I don’t stretch nearly as much as I should, and I can really tell when I’ve been neglectful in that area. 

I think, I have found that the key is, the more active I am today, the more normal I will feel tomorrow. It’s a tough concept for an instant-gratification kinda girl like me to wrap her mind around. When the alarm goes off at 5:30am for my pre-work walk, the first thing I want to do is hit snooze until I don’t have enough time to get a walk in. That 30 minutes of sleep costs me dearly in terms of flexibility and pain, though. 

If I want to progress to my former athletic self, however, it’s a concept I need to get behind asap.