When "break a leg" is not a joke anymore

On a Saturday morning on July 27, 2019,  as I was going down the stairs in my apartment, I absent-mindedly missed two steps on the staircase and crashed landed onto the floor.  It happened in a flash, one moment on the stairs and the next, sprawled on the ground. The excruciating pain shot through my leg foot as I grasped it tightly, waiting for the pain to subside. Then I limped into the kitchen and pulled out a bag of frozen peas to ice the sore foot.

Seeing that I could still slightly move my toes and that the pain was tolerable, I mistakenly believed that I had narrowly escaped a broken foot.  I have always thought that if you can move your fingers or toes, then nothing is broken. And if something was broken, the pain would be so unbearable that you would be tearing your hair out. With that self diagnosis concluded, I held off going to Emergency and thought that the injury would heal over time.

I had a summer BBQ party that same evening and had promised to prepare two dishes.  I deftly slung my injured foot over the kitchen sink and balancing on the other foot, started preparing my dish for the pot-luck party.

A doctor friend at the party saw the swollen bruised foot and advised me to get medical attention as soon as I could.  The following Monday, I saw my family doctor who ordered an X-ray that same afternoon at the nearest hospital.

The Orthopaedic surgeon who took my X-ray was surprised at how composed I was, given that I had actually fractured my fifth metatarsal (the bone shaft that connects the pinkie).
He put my foot into a plaster and explained that I could either let it heal by itself or I could speed up healing by about 80% by going through a surgery whereby screws would be put in to clamp the bone in place. I chose the obvious path and an appointment with a foot surgeon was made for August 1.

The surgery went well, but I took a long time to recover from the anaesthetic. I was glad to be able to leave the recovery room after my blood pressure went down from 180 to 130. We stopped by the  Orthopaedic centre for some mobility aids: a wheelchair, a pair of crutches and a walking frame.

The rest of the days, I hobbled, skipped, dragged my way from the sofa to the bed and back to the sofa. There wasn't much I could do and staying inactive was annoying. I was counting down the days to the next milestone when I would go for a review. The days past slowly but I kept my spirits up by reading and listening to sermons. I began to miss going to church on Sundays and one day I decided to invite a few of my church friends at home for coffee morning. The gathering of 6 women soon grew into a bi-monthly coffee morning fellowship with bible study.

Twelve weeks soon rolled by and the surgeon said I could now walk without any aid in my orthopaedic ankle boots, which I endearingly named " Moon boots".  However in November, I still some painful sites in my foot, so i went back to my surgeon who then prescribed 9 sessions of physiotherapy.

After 9 sessions of physiotherapy, I was happily on my way to recovery as I worked diligently on my prescribed exercises to strengthen my core muscles and correct my footing. Then disaster struck on January 6th, 2020. On my way home from a full day of activity, I felt a sharp pain on my foot. That pain stayed with me for two whole weeks resulting in a swollen and stiffed foot. My physiotherapist was flabbergasted with this onset and told me to see my doctor. A CT scan was ordered and showed another  (new) hairline fracture along the site of one of the screws. My surgeon told me that no intervention would be necessary but to allow the fracture to heal by itself. And if any pain would persist after two months, then I could go for another surgery to remove the screws and check on the fracture.
Up until now, because of the Corona lockdown, I am just letting time do its thing. I dare not jog but i can walk at least 5 km with no pain.. Time will tell..