If I Had Known

If I had known that 111 days after running that 4-miler on my treadmill that I would only run (jog) a handful more times and the calendar would be making a serious push toward March 1, I wouldn't have believed it. Thinking back on what has happened since that evening on October 27, 2008 it is hard for me to believe a lot of it. The mind has a funny way of putting things into perspective and recalling certain things. I'm not a brain expert, but I do know that I recall some things very vividly and other things have found their way out of my psyche.

I remember the day I went to get my x-ray and how I could hardly walk. When I received the phone call that there were no breaks, I had a rush of relief and figured I'd be back to my old self in a couple weeks max.

When a couple more weeks went by and I saw very little improvement I got concerned. Had I not pushed for another appointment it could have gone on a lot longer than it has. When I saw my podiatrist and he said, "10% chance there is a break in there", the relief came back. When I got the results of my MRI and I was told, "you have a non-displaced navicular fracture", I was (oddly enough) relieved again. My pain had a name and a diagnosis.

When four weeks of my life seemed like an eternity I tried to stabilize my mind by getting into a new routine. The stationary bike became my friend and biggest adversary. At least I was doing something. I controlled what I could control. I bordered on madness with the thought of 'when?'

When I had my boot removed on December 22, I was relieved again. Could this be the final relief? Despite ongoing pain I was told that it was all good. Do what I could do. I could even skate. In my mind and especially in my foot, I knew that wasn't true, but at least I was walking again; if you could call it that.

When two more weeks went by and I had no noticeable improvement, I pushed my way back in for another MRI. The results came back a few days later and you guessed it. Relief. The bone was healing. Things were on track. As far as my podiatrist was concerned, "you're healed". Hip hip hooray. Total relief. But then a couple more weeks went by and I realized I wasn't totally healed. At least not to the point that I could return to my pre-injury activities. Pain was still there.

I scheduled an appointment for a second look. A second opinion if you want to call it that. I self-prescribed no running. I am healing. Am I totally healed? No. It's a self-diagnosis. Tomorrow I get another opinion. The past week or so, after skating for the third week in a row (skating actually makes it feel better), I feel relief. But do I really? No. History has taught me to be skeptical. Tomorrow, no matter what they tell me I'll be skeptical. I have learned that your health and most of your treatment and even to a degree your diagnosis is left up to you. It's taught me to be skeptical. I'm sure that I'll be relieved again tomorrow when I'm told that I am healing and that this is normal and that not running is a good idea and that I should wait a few more weeks, then try to do what I can tolerate.

A waste of $25 co-pay if you ask me. But I'm paying for another slither of relief I suppose. If you had told me in October that I'd still be screwing around with this on February 25, I wouldn't have believed you. I'd have bet just about anything on it. Still no running for now. Boy, if I had known...