You thought I was being unfair yesterday when I blamed my loss of internet access on Harvey, didn't you? May I present exhibit A:
Somebody decided that there was a bright yellow snake on the counter, and he took it upon himself to save the entire family from the danger it presented. He was most likely surprised that we were not as appreciative as he expected. Lucky for him and for me that the tech support and customer service people at the city power and communications company are super understanding and friendly, and they had a new fiber optic cable waiting for me behind the desk when I showed up this afternoon. It's not something your average Best Buy stocks, even in a town like this, and I had to get one from the source.
I'm glad the internet is back now, and that one of the kids showed me how easy it is to cast videos from YouTube to my television from my iPad. (If I'd only known before...) It was time to explain to XS about spoon theory, and I was so completely bereft of spoons by 8 o'clock this evening that I couldn't speak the words myself. So I showed her a video, and she sort of gets it now. I have been racing neck or nothing through the last few weeks, and I failed to keep a supply of spoons in reserve. She still has trouble imagining that a body can betray you, as most 17 year olds would, but we are getting closer to understanding why I suddenly just stop moving at a certain point in the day.
There was only one answer I feared more than "surgery" at the podiatrist this morning, and that was "don't really see anything." It wasn't nothing, but it wasn't much that was immediately actionable either. Something went wrong with the MRI when the data was transferred to the disc I brought in from the imaging lab, and the doctor had to crank the brightness all the way up to see faint images of my foot. The best he could tell, the posterior tibial tendon that he thought might be torn was intact, as were the flexor digitalis pair. Again, we saw no stress fractures in the bones, which is good, but they were clearly not in the pretty arch that they are supposed to assume. The sign of obvious distress was in the fascia, which was thickened by about 300% and showed distinct pockets of edema where it has been constantly tearing. The doc says he wants to start conservatively, with orthotics and physical therapy (which I had to warn him I'm basically priced out of since my copays are 250% of what they were before the NDAA this year), and if there is not sufficient improvement then we can talk about steroid injections. I'm a big girl when it comes to needles, and not generally afraid of them, but I turned inside out at the idea of a needle going in the arch of my foot. I will do everything I can to avoid getting to that point. (Dammit, another pun. Not my fault.) So here I sit, waiting for them to run the idea of orthotics past Tricare, to learn where I can go for them. I don't want them, because I can barely stand the pressure of wearing shoes at all, and I don't want to walk on giant curved pads, but if I am to avoid a needle and have any hope of re-arching my feet, I'll do what I have to. Who knows, maybe I'll actually feel like walking for the first time in a couple of years.
I promised pretty Harvey pictures, and I will deliver, with a pretty Wookiee dog and a surprisingly patient Rabbit thrown in for good measure.
(This is not cranky Rabbit face. She was actually grooming him until the second I took the picture.)
No comments:
Post a Comment