Dangerous Distractions

I’m on a gurney in the ER as I type this. 

Don’t worry, it isn’t life threatening.  It does, however, threaten my exercise plans for the next few months because I tore my left achilles tendon.  Again. 

I’ll start with the end of today’s adventure.  No broken bones.  Tendon is torn, not severed.  No agonizing pain, as long as I don’t walk.  The solution is simple, time – wearing a huge, black stabilizing boot for weeks, until the tendon heals. 

I can be blase because I know this particular drill.  It happens about every 3 decades.  And, as I’ve written in previous posts, experience can help ease worry during crises.

I first tore this tendon when my son was 18-months-old.  You probably realize that it’s almost impossible to stay off your feet with a toddler, but I tried to sit on the floor instead of standing when Blake needed help. 

After daily and teary re-injuries, I finally begged the Fort McPherson GA doctor for a cast.  Six weeks later the pain and 34 years of calf muscle disappeared.  Those of you who knew me in the first half of my life can imagine how different my two calves looked – one bulked up from a lifetime of gymnastics, jogging, and racquetball, and one pitifully thin.

Despite that, I nearly kissed the young med tech who removed the cast.  No pain.  No pain.  No muscle, no strength either, but those were way down my list of what was important then.  Those could be rebuilt because I had no pain.

My lost strength returned within a year or two.  The only residual was a slightly disfigured left heel and a less robust calf. 

I thought. 

Achilles-Tendon-Round-Two began this past August, walking on the beach.  Two to four miles a day for almost a week.  Nothing unusual.  Had never had a problem walking miles in the sand, until I did. 

The last time I walked off the beach was better described as limping off.  Hmmm . . . the uncomfortable sensation felt strangely familiar, even after 30+ years.  It wasn’t excruciating like years ago but I knew I needed to be careful. 

In case you’re wondering, “being careful” means staying off the bad foot and keeping it up for many days, using ice on and off for the first couple of days.  Putting no weight on those toes or the heal, which is hard to do without a medical boot or a cast.  Using anti-inflammatories even when you’re not in pain.  Maybe visiting a doctor to get a boot. 

I did everything except visit the doctor. I even configured my own heel support and it worked. This week I wore regular shoes and occasionally no shoes.  My gait was close to normal if I didn’t rush. 

I’d mostly avoided yardwork because I knew I’d get distracted and forget to protect my foot.  Turns out I’m prescient.

This morning, I was optimistic that my heel was about healed.  I gingerly walked to the blueberry plants to add depleted coffee grounds to the soil, unaware of the distraction lurking nearby.

The problem lay in the fact that, to protect my heel, I’d recently ignored the yard.  Robert Hedgepeth agreed to mow the lawn for the remainder of the season.  He did a fine job but I hadn’t asked him to put down fire ant powder after he mowed.  That was my routine, to cut the grass then provide the ants generous incentive to move away for awhile.

This morning I was distributing the coffee grounds when one of those firey insects decided my foot looked tasty and took a bite.  That was the distraction I’d been avoiding.  My only thought was to get him (them?) off me. 

A split second later, my left heel felt like Hank Aaron struck it with his bat. It felt exactly like I remembered it feeling the first time it tore, lo’ those many years ago in the racquetball court.  Exactly the same.  I screamed and immediately went to the ground to mourn what I was preparing to lose.  Again.  

And that’s why I ended up in the ER today. Fire ants.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

1. Don’t jump back full force into your exercise routine if you’ve significantly cut back.  That’s the mistake I made both times I damaged my Achilles.  Rebuild those supporting muscles first.

2. Wear the medical support equipment longer than you think you need to. That gives the injury time to fully heal before you return to normal, distracting activities.

3. Keep your fire ant population under control.