Recently in My Broken Ankle Category

On Tuesday, I did something I had not done in more than six months - I went to a cycling class.

I was nervous about testing my ankle out this way. I know it's been several months, but I'm still in physical therapy, and sometimes prone to toppling over when the ankle decides it does not want to cooperate.

Still, I was tired of not being able to go to the gym, so I braved an hour-long class with my gym buddy, Jen.

When we got there, we came face to face with the evil "WOO!" instructor, otherwise known as my nemesis.

Enough is enough.

I'm tired of looking like an old woman.

I'm tired of struggling to get it out of my car.

I'm tired of almost (and sometimes) smacking myself in the face with it when I'm in a confined space.

That's it - I'm ditching this cane.

I'd heard stories about people who work during the day.

These "day-walkers" get up at the crack of dawn, use alarm clocks and, heaven forbid, drink coffee.

As someone who has worked nights for the last seven years or so, these folks and their lives were a mystery to me.

That is, until I became one of them.

(Because I can't go out to cover things like fires, homicides and the like, I'm on desk/web duty until my doctor clears me to go back to my regular work.)

Walking hurts.

A lot.

And using a can is no picnic, either.

That's all - for now.

Hi guys. I apologize for being away for almost a week.

I started work and physical therapy this week, and let's just say it's been - tough.

So, I'm exhausted, and haven't had the energy to do my blog.

However, I promise I'll have some fun stuff up in the near future.

Yes, that's sooner than you think.

Darn this injured ankle and not having any energy.

You know, I never realized how big my office is.

Before the broken ankle, it always seemed too small and a little crowded with its walls of cubicles.

Now, this place feels like Beaver Stadium (where the folks at Penn State play football - and, interesting fact, is one of the largest stadiums in the world. Fascinating.)

I feel like I'm some small thing in a really big world.

Wait, I am a small thing in a big world. . . but you know what I mean.

I never really gave those motorized store scooters a second glance - that is, until I needed to use one.

Although I've got some new found freedom, I really can't get too far.

For example, if I was to try to walk from the front of the Target to the back wall, you'd find me about halfway there a half an hour or so after I started, begging for a medic.

But I still had to get groceries and such, which means I had to use the scooter.

My ankle is healing up nicely, and that I can go back to work!

Yeah!

So, I'll be back at the newspaper, part-time, starting March 17.

I'm so excited.

No, seriously, I am.

That is, if you count a Frankstein-like gait that causes me to sway like a drunk person, than yes, I am walking.

I've been trying to get more independent the last few weeks because I'm returning to work - yes, I'm going to stop milking the broken ankle and work - next week.

So, that means I had to give up the computer chair and walker combo, and try to walk around.

After a few failed experiments (I never knew falling could be so much fun), I got it.

I busted my rump on the stairs Sunday.

My assistant and I were headed out for a Wal-Mart trip.

I was excited to leave the house, because I hadn't been outside for several years, I mean, days.

So, I was in my usual position, one hand on the railing, one hand on the wall and standing on one foot, ready to hop down the flight of stairs in my apartment.

My friend was saying something funny to me. I told him to shut up.

As the old folks say, God don't lik ugly so. . .

I went to hop down and lost my footing.

I crash landed on my humps.

My friend rushed up the steps to help. I was OK. I even laughed a little.

I was more shocked than hurt. I've actually been pretty lucky, and haven't fell much since I broke my ankle.

Boy, I'm glad I have some extra cushioning back there (take that, obesity experts).

If I hadn't, things could've been ugly.

So, I'm a little bruised, but I felt better after watching this YouTube video about celebrity falls.

Beyonce, I feel your pain.

I went to the doctor's Thursday for a check on my broken ankle.

I got to look at my x-rays again. After about six weeks, you can barely see where the bones were broken.

You can still see where I chipped the bone on the back of my ankle, which still really hurts.

The x-rays also show all my hardware - 11 screws and a metal plate - that hold the ankle in place.

However, everything is healing up nicely, and my pedicure (the new one) looks great.

My doctor said I've been an ideal patient (obviously, his nursing manager hasn't told him how I've called her every week at least once a week to ask a frantic question).

He look at my foot and said everything is lining back up nicely.

This week, I'm even allowed to start putting a little bit of weight on it.

How exciting!

Also, the bruising and darkness on the broken ankle has practically faded away. My skin looks almost normal (except for Frankenstienish surgery scars on both sides of my ankle).

to put my foot flat on the floor.

That's what I did tonight.

I could feel the softness of the carpet on my feet and its warmth.

I know this may not seem like a big deal, but this is the foot with the broken ankle.

It hasn't touched any floor or floor covering since Jan. 3.

This, dear readers, is a big step. I'll be wearing high heels again in no time!

All I can say is. . .

This rocks!

This is Michele Canty, reporting on her broken ankle from York.

Since my last report, I've only fallen on my broken ankle once, and I didn't even cry.

Ok, maybe just a little. . .

Anywho, I'm currently in sunny VA with the family (it's like 10-15 degress warmer than PA), hanging out at my parents' home in Newport News.

They've been great.

My mom has been cooking me healthy meals, because we're trying to keep my weight where it is.

My dad has only threatened to hit my broken ankle with a cane once. (Maybe that's because I teased him about being older than the oldest man in the Bible, or at least knowing that guy, but that's not really the point.)

Mostly, things are good. I'm still in some pain, and my ankle is still swollen to almost the size of a softball.

But lots of packs of ice usually help with the swelling.

I'm just hoping the ankle is in better shape by sandal season. I will not give up my strappy, open-toed shoes.

But I digress. . .

You know - I never knew how important some things were until I was unable to do them.

Like putting on my own pants - who knew you could roll yourself out of bed trying to put on the widest-legged pants you have, and still not succeed at the task at hand?

Going to the bathroom?

That's a joyous adventure that takes anywhere from 15 to 20 minutes.

It depends on how long it takes me to scoot down the hallway in the computer chair that has become my best friend and basic means of transportation.

This jaunt also includes the time it takes to pull down my pants to avoid an accident.

We're talking fun, fun and more fun!

Rolling over to reach my water bottle on the night stand?

This barrel of laughs now consists of me grunting and puffing as I try to shift my body weight just a little, to make the whole "rolling over" thing happen.

Sometimes it goes well. Most times, it doesn't.

Did I mention that I haven't left my apartment in a week, and that I believe my cats are starting to answer me when I talk to them?

Boy, no one told me how much fun a broken ankle would be. It is truly a joy.

(For those of you who don't know me that well, that was sarcasm. . . )

I don't mean to sound like a baby or anything, but this whole broken bone thing really, really sucks.

All I can say is, thank goodness my mommy is here.

Here are a few shots of my foot. Those fat, swollen things that look like breakfast sausages are my toes:

One more time:

When I was at the hospital, I kept thinking to myself,

"Thank goodness my pedicure is holding up! Those little sausages, I mean, toes, look fabulous!"

the joys of a broken ankle such as,

the pain?

the fact that I use a shower chair so I can shower?

not being able to climb up or down my steps?

the fact that I live on the second floor?

the pain?

the fact that my ankle injury wakes me up every morning?

that my ankle hates me for what happened?

that I actually miss work, and would trade it for some pain-free days?

the pain?