Free The Feet

One of the interesting things about rebranding a blog is that you have something of a stockpile of posts to pull from, whether it be for memories, new ideas, or even reposting. I wrote the following 7 years ago, almost to the day:

-I don’t like shoes.

-I don’t like feet more than I don’t like shoes.

-My dislike for feet has nothing to do with how unattractive my feet actually are.

-My college campus was the land of flip flops, even more than most schools.

-I have a friend who promises his children won’t wear shoes until they’re at least 5, and even then not in the home.

-More than one of my friends gave up wearing shoes for Lent, and no one was fazed by it.

-I use to know someone who never wore shoes, even in the dead of winter.

-I can only wear sneakers.

-Only on rare occasions can I wear shoes that are not sneakers.

-I use to require getting a new pair of sneakers each month.

-My current shoes have lasted over 6 months surprising my exercise physiologist and new physiatrist, but for different reasons.

-My friends use to declare “free the feet” days during college.

During my last post-op visit I had several things on my mind. I’ll spare you the nitty gritty but having met with my physiatrist the day before & having opinions from the exercise physiologist weighed heavily on my mind. One of the biggest reasons I moved my Orthopedic care to Boston was that things are more comprehensive and having to coordinate my own care for the last few years had become exhausting and seemingly unnecessary. But I still have trouble letting go and not hand delivering mounds of paperwork to each doctor and/or specialist during each visit (I have printable files I regularly update as well as the “official” stuff) or putting my two cents in here and there in the form of, “Well ___________ said that_________________________ and it makes sense to me so……….”

I’m a rare crossbreed of nosy, self-controlling, snitch-of-a-sponge. But 9 times out of 10 I will deny this fact.

At my first post-op appointment, I was given a prescription for a new AFO, a “downgrade” for the one I had been wearing for the last few years. I wasn’t happy about it because (1) I actually liked the AFO I had and felt it only needed an adjustment or two (because I’m a professional after all) to be able to carry on, (2) I REALLY didn’t want a new AFO after all the work I had done. But I relented with the understanding that within a year I’d hopefully be able to rid myself of AFO(s) altogether.

“Can I stop wearing the AFO at least sometimes because….(I’ll spare you the pleading)”

“Well let’s see.” (I hop off the table take barely 2 steps) “Yeah, you’re fine. But after the Botox you’ll want to put it back on…… (tra la la)”

So I went out and bought new shoes, because an AFO can stretch out a shoe like nobody’s business. They aren’t my favorite looking but the fact that I’m wearing them AFO-less puts them at the top of the list by default.

Not really remembering that I’ve worn an AFO for years meant I was grossly under prepared in the sock department. I think I have 3 pairs that don’t come up to my knees. No matter how many I actually have it’s not nearly enough. Lucky for me my mother has an abundance of socks. Well not really, but she has a good number she doesn’t wear so I’ve become the proud owner of them, again by default.

I’ve adjusted to life without an AFO pretty easily & rather well I might add, but that all ends on Monday when I get injected with Botox.
I’m hoping going back to the AFO is only a short term deal, or else these last few weeks have been a major tease.

At least I’m not going back to lock-up. That was an experiment that I will never repeat for as long as I live, and neither will my orthotists.
For now I’ll be eagerly anticipating my next “Free The Feet” day.

*A similar version of this post was written on July 16, 2010

I Pulled My Armpit?

I’ve been having issues with my right arm for months. I figured it was just lingering from my unfortunate encounter with a chair a few months ago. It would get better for a while and then not, and then get better and then not, and you get the idea.

I’m sure it’s not that big of a deal for most people but when your legs aren’t normal on a good day and your arm is sub-par you’re basically down to one fully functional limb on any given day.

I’m normally sore for a while after a trip too.

So, I just waited it out.

Until I thought maybe I should stop waiting.

I mentioned it to my trainer and he found a fairly large trigger point in the region of my scapula.

I texted a friend with a rehab background after my session to find out what she knew about it.

“Um, serratus anterior?……Basically the muscle on your side below your armpit.”

Awesome.

Wanting to know more about what I’ve gotten myself into I came home and looked it up for myself.

serratus-anterior

How someone can find an injury within this mess without the aid of additional studies is beyond me but I’m glad it’s possible, especially so early in the “Medical New Year” when I avoid any doctor related anything like the plague.

Being a swimmer with CP I’m realizing I have to be a different kind of careful when it comes to my upper body.  

Don’t Swear

I’ve always been the kind of person who swears a lot of things, “I swear I won’t.” “I swear I didn’t.” “I swear I’ll never.”……

You get the idea.

For as long as I can remember I’ve known people with 2 jobs, even in classmates in school (so if you counted school as a “job” they had 3 jobs). I never understood it. I understood that they needed the money but that’s about it. How can you balance such a life?

I swore I would never work 2 jobs.

Then I became someone who works two jobs.

I just covered it up by calling one a career & the other a job.

And although that’s what it feels like most of the time, they’re both still jobs.

The main reason why I haven’t written in 2 weeks is because I was having trouble balancing my life; between those two jobs.

And there was the 4th of July holiday, or as I call it “the day I watch ‘Independence Day’ and wouldn’t be caught dead outside.”

Oh and after the first week it was kind of fun to take a “blog-cation” and work on my office, which now has an actual desk! (It’s a pocket tray, but still).

In a roundabout way what I’m telling you is, don’t swear. I’m not talking about the 4 letter word swears, because I’d be the biggest hypocrite on planet earth (and quite frankly I enjoy those swears a little too much to give them up).

I’m telling you to steer away from the other type of swearing:

* I could never….
* I would ever…..
* I won’t……
* I’ll never…..
* I didn’t…
* I couldn’t….

I’m giving you this little piece of advice because if you’re anything like me swearing something is basically like daring God (or whatever you believe in) to “allow” it to happen (if you believe that’s possible).

And if you’re anything like me God likes to have a good laugh at my expense, I’d swear to it (almost).

*A similar version of this post was written on July 16, 2013