Chicken Soup for the Sole

On January 23rd, 2008, I was outside running.  It was a nice January day, sunny and mid 50s.  I had only made it about a half mile from home and good thing - I did something I couldn't duplicate in a million years. The toe of my running shoe caught in a crack in the sidewalk.  It stopped my foot but my body kept right on going.  I had definitely injured my ankle.  I was alone at home as my husband was out of town, and I did not bring my cell phone.  I had no idea how I was going to get home. The humorous part about this (well, now it's humorous...) is that as I was curled up on the ground watching my ankle swell up like a balloon and wanting to kick myself with my good foot for stupidly leaving my phone at home, a woman who lived across the street from where I fell came out to get her mail.  She thought I was a kid playing on the sidewalk and walked over to see who I was.  Thankfully she helped me up and walked me over to her house for some ice, but most thankfully she was nice enough to drive me back home.

Once home I was able to find a friend to give me a ride to urgent care to have it checked out.  I had several x-rays taken and there did not appear to be a break, but due to the swelling they were not sure.  It turns out you're better off breaking your ankle than spraining it - I had no idea.  I also had no idea what I was in for with this injury.  I was sent home with a plastic brace and painkillers, and was scheduled for an MRI.  A few days later the pain was becoming unbearable and my foot was so cold it felt like there was no circulation going on due to the extreme swelling.  I had to return to the doctor.  More x-rays were taken but still no break was found.  I was given a big, ugly, clunky black immobilization boot to trudge around in in the meantime. 

When the MRI results came back, they showed that I tore through the 3 ligaments on the outside of my left ankle (anterior talofibular, posterior talofibular, and calcaneofibular ligaments), and a partial tear to an inside ligament (tibiocalcaneal ligament).  It was officially diagnosed as a severe ankle sprain.

A few weeks later my doctor had put me in physical therapy.  I found out there that my ankle joint was nearly frozen from all the immobilization and was presented with a plan to basically to learn to walk again on it.  This pretty much killed me within.  I already was forced to cut my long hair quite short due to harsh damage before the injury happened and didn't feel like myself  to begin with.  Here I was, a bit of a workout freak now barely being able to do anything.  I was in a lot of pain, and no fun shoes in sight.  I became quite depressed and started to gain a little weight from the inactivity.  It was a dark time in my life.

Over the next few months I did make some progress, but not enough for my satisfaction.  I was able to walk without the brace but with a cane; having to do this embarrassed me as a young person.  It did push me enough to get rid of it as quickly as possible, but nothing motivated me like my cousin Beth's wedding.  I was able to work my way up to a 2" heel for her wedding in May (4 months and 2 days later), but this was with a very noticeable limp.  Also, you could still see the swelling in my ankle that long after the initial injury - which amazed me - but at least with the swelling being obvious, I didn't have to explain myself if people who didn't know about my injury were wondering what happened.  Although it was so nice go back home and see my cousins and other family members who I hadn't seen in a while, I couldn't dance and I certainly didn't feel like myself.  By the end of the night wearing my 2" heels became such a challenge that I could barely walk barefoot.  I had to be carried to my car.

That night and lack of feeling like the girlie girl I am was the kick in the pants I needed.  I also wanted to get back to running again, yes, and it did push me enough to work hard. But the thought of never being able to strut my stuff in my beloved heels again rocked me to the core.  In the next 6 weeks I made huge strides in therapy.  I started doing walks back and forth in an olympic sized pool on my toes as if in heels.  I forced myself to walk up and down stairs on my toes.  I was doing balancing exercised again on my ankle.  I was done with therapy in July and started feel how close my high heels were to being back on my feet.

By September I was starting to work out pretty regularly again but ended up with bad tendonitis on the inside of my ankle.  I had overdone it.  Again I was visiting my orthopedic, but this time it was just to get a cortisone shot.  I had another shot in October, and I realized I needed to take it slow and steady as to not have any more roadblocks.  I swear my heels in my closet were calling to me like sirens of the sea, or more like screaming at me to get my act together.  I needed to focus and get on track to wear them, and I did.

Finally, just about a year later, I purchased my first new pair of 4" heels again, a pair of tall fitted black knee high boots.  I remember that day well.  I went to the mall walking perfectly normal in 4" heels to visit Bakers Shoes to get the pointed toe stilettos I had my eye on.  That was the final victory I needed to put this ankle injury behind me.

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Everyone has their motivation to do things in their lives, and for me, it was my love of shoes that got me through a very difficult year - both physically and mentally.  Having a closet full of them helped too as the thought of getting rid of my fabulous collection terrified me.  Ever since my injury, I wear my high heels with added pride and always offer a silent thank you to them for being the "chicken soup" that I needed.  Oh, and one more thing: now I take long brisk walks instead of running outside. ;)