Everything was going a little better, getting a little easier, so I decided I was ready to start getting back into shape. I didn't really want to join a gym because I don't care for the idea of paying someone a lot of money to drive to their place, put my stuff in a locker, my kids in childcare, get on a machine used by dozens of other sweaty people, try to act as though I really enjoy being there, and then getting everything together and going back home. Not appealing at all.
So I decided it would be a great idea to start running in our neighborhood. Now mind you, I haven't "run" for exercise in almost twenty years. I think, I'll start slowly and build up my endurance; it will be great. My loving hubby got me a Nike Plus for my IPod and I loved it! It keeps track of how far you've run, how long, how many calories, etc. It is extremely encouraging to someone who really wants to improve her physical conditioning through running.
I had been running for about two weeks and my knees were really starting to hurt. Hubby encouraged saying, "I hurt, too. You just run through it and it will get better." I wanted to believe him, so I kept running for another week. By this time my body is screaming at me to stop this nonsense and get my knees checked out. So, wanting to be responsible, I scheduled an appointment with the orthopedic clinic in town. They couldn't get me in until two days later so I waited. My knees were getting progressively worse, and the left one kept giving out on me. Day of appointment, guy takes x-rays and says, "Don't see anything on the x-ray, we'll put you in a brace and in PT three times a week for three weeks to build up your weaker muscles because your patella is tracking wrong." Okay. PT the next day goes alright, but doesn't seem to help any. I do my at home exercises wanting to obey the therapist.
Saturday night, while at Chuck E. Cheese (where a kid can be a kid), I was pushing the boys in the stroller and it ran into something that didn't move and my leg kept going. Huge mistake. I screamed very loudly, no one came to my rescue (T and S were spending her tickets) and I hobbled out to the car trying not to cry. I know something is very wrong at this point.
Monday morning, I went back to the clinic and sat in the waiting room until someone could see me. Luckily it was the other guy this time, the one who knows what he is doing. He ordered an MRI and gave me a Cortisone shot. Shot hurt like a mug, but didn't help at all. After the MRI, the tech told me she saw what looked like a deep bone bruise, a stress fracture, or a fracture on my tibial plateau. She couldn't say for sure though since she wasn't the radiologist. The next morning the doc calls and says I have stress fracture and the brace I was using was actually making it worse because it was pressing directly on the fracture. I say what does that mean for me? He says, "Stay off of it completely for four to six weeks." Doesn't he realize I have TWO BABIES?!!! How on earth could he possibly think I could do that? He says, "Come in and get a super duper fancy brace and crutches for when you have to walk." Seriously?
I tried that for a week and then I had to be honest with myself and realized I was not minding, so I wasn't mending. I called yesterday and told on myself. He made me come in and get a cast. From my groin to my TOES!!!!!!!! Unbelievable. So now I have this HUGE honkin' hot pink cast that won't allow me to put weight on my leg at all with the hope that it will start to heal now. I will have this for at least three weeks. So now, I have a wheelchair at home to help me move the babies about and try to maintain some independence and usefulness to my family in the meantime. My dad came out for a day last week to help me, and my mom is coming Friday night to help me while T is on call this weekend. I don't think I could survive if she wasn't coming. Thank you, Dad and Mommy, for coming to rescue me