The surgeon told me to expect that I would have swelling for a year. I was shocked. But I think recovery time is always a tough thing to hear about before it starts. There is no way of saying “expect a one-year recovery” that doesn’t kind of turn the stomach. Now that I am six months in, I can see why a year would be a realistic time frame. I’ll be happy if it ever gets smaller than it is these days.
I still have moments of acute pain, but they don’t happen often. Sometimes it’s an intense burning, which is apparently the nerves growing back. It’s usually no more than a dull ache: annoying and insistent, but livable. I get shooting pains down into my instep and my foot doesn’t tolerate any sort of tight shoe. I try to exercise it when I can of course, and I am still icing and wrapping it on occasion. I can’t pivot on my left foot or stand on the ball of my foot (in fact, I can’t put any weight at all on the ball of that foot.) This makes things like climbing a ladder or tiptoeing down a hallway quite difficult. Wearing high heels is out of the question. I used to enjoy them. I can’t even image that now.
I’ll leave you with this knobby ankle picture so you can see what I’m working with. I need to write about my association with ankles and beauty and how it comes from my maternal great-grandfather (who I never met) but I’m tired and ready for bed. 🙂