Achilles in the Time of Covid

Today's the day. I'm up and drinking water while I still can and take yet another shower with the Hibiclens per doctor's orders. We all pile into the car, crutches in tow for the post-op hobble home, and I give my kids and husband kisses and hugs before heading into Day Surgery. I complete the regular Covid-screening at the entry once more, and am checked in fairly quickly. I'm brought to pre-op where I get into my gowns (they are so very haute coutre), and the oh-so-fashionable hospital-issued neon yellow no-skid socks. The nurses take my belongings, with the exception of my phone, to a locker and I'm left to my thoughts for only a few minutes, which is good, because in the short time I've been left alone my mind is already wandering around the possibility of the surgery going wrong. I'm picturing the surgeon on the phone with my husband and in this anxiety-fueled day-dream/nightmare I've created in my head, the words "foot amputation" c...

Covid results came back negative! Surgery is ON.  Ok. I'm ready for this. We clean the house not only in preparation for my parents' arrival but also so that I don't trip over legos and blocks and such while I hobble around the house post-op. I prepare my bag for the hospital, which is basically just my phone, backup charger, Kindle, Covid mask, ID and insurance card. I treat myself to a sushi dinner (my favorite!) and indulge in an 11:30pm bowl of cereal so I get one last meal in before my pre-op fasting begins at midnight. I make the bed with a clean set of sheets, take a shower using the doctor-prescribed Hibiclens antibacterial soap, and it's time for bed.

I decided to look at the glass half full and move forward assuming the surgery is ON for Monday. Since I've accepted the fact that this is what needs to happen, I put on my Type A planning glasses and begin researching the various things I can have prepared and ready for my post-op experience. I already have the crutches from my original accident and a friend is loaning me her late mother's wheelchair, so that's a great start. One of my big concerns isn't so much weight gain (though I'm not thrilled with the Covid-8lbs that I've already gained during quarantine, so I'd love if I can keep the weight off), but rather the lack of exercise affecting my mental well-being. Not being able to go for a run or at the least, cycle, for many months is going to be tough. However, a friend suggested I try to think about what I actually like about running/what I get out of it, and then not to look at what I can't do (i.e. "run") but rather what I CAN do that ...

This morning starts off with the family piling into the car (because I can't drive myself and we can't leave the kids home alone, so this becomes a whole family affair) and heading to the drive-through Covid test. I've finally had time to wrap my head around getting the surgery done and make my peace with the fact that the sooner I get it done, the sooner I can begin the recovery process. Of course, this means that now what I'm panicking about is this test. While I have no reason to suspect I have the virus, my anxiety gets the better of me and I begin stressing that I could be a "carrier" without showing any symptoms. If the test comes back positive and I have to cancel the surgery, then what next? I just want to get this over with... I pull up to the drive-through and there's only one car in front of me. The nurse verifies my info, asks me to pull down my mask, and then without warning shoves a long q-tip the size of Montana up my nostrils until it ba...

Hobbled on into the orthopedic surgeon's office today, and, after being screened for the umpteenth time for Covid symptoms (no, I do not have any new cough, runny nose, upset stomach, diarrhea...yes, I do have bruising and swelling...look at my leg), I was brought in fairly quickly to see Dr. M. He asked me for the breakdown of what had happened over the past few weeks, and, having already looked at my MRI results, told me "well, here's the thing. It's a complete tear, with maybe a MRI Results - 4cm wide laceration strand or two still connected, which might explain why you still had some movement in the foot with the Thompson test. However, given the location of the severed tendon in relation to where you originally cut your ankle, and the fact that it's a completely clean cut instead of a ragged rupture, I'm thinking you actually cut it weeks ago during the original accident." So this is news. I'd been told up until now that the tendon was in...

It's the day after my MRI results, and the day before my consult with an orthopedic surgeon. To say my journey to this day has been unexpected is an understatement, mostly because I connote the word "journey" with exciting adventures like hiking the Inca trail to Macchu Picchu, bungee jumping off bridges in New Zealand, sipping wines on cobblestone streets in Italy, or, at a minimum, hearing the lyrics to "Don't Stop Believin'" replaying in my head. But "journey" is a lot easier to say and shorter to write than "a runner/mom-living-in-a-house-of-testosterone-and-ADHD/woman-living-with-anxiety-in-the-time-of-Covid's nightmarish reality," so let's go with "journey" for now. So, a brief recap of my journey: Sunday, 05/24 (Memorial Day weekend) - sliced the back of my ankle on the door of my shower; drop the kids off at friend/neighbor's house (their first "outing" to anywhere indoors other than...