Four More Weeks

Our kid finished her school year today and I was supposed to finish my physical therapy today as well, but my therapist believes that my mobility and strength have increased and there is still room for more improvement. So now I have four more weeks of therapy, but instead of three days a week I only need to go two times which is a relief.

I'm still not certain that it is the therapy that I'm benefiting from and not just the weather. I wish I could have my limits tested in a temperature controlled vacuum, but that's just not possible. I have increased my monthly walking average, too, which is now 2.4 miles for the month of May compared to my abysmal 1.5 miles average for the previous four months.

One thing I did mention to my therapist is that the tightness in my muscles seemed to have dissipated in my calf and I didn't notice that until recently. Instead of the feeling of a high-ankle sprain, most of the tightness was focused at my foot and ankle. It does seem to fluctuate with the weather, but I do think the stretches have helped.

I plan to shut down the stimulator one of these days and see how long I can tolerate the pain. It's been since February 15 that I had the surgery and the stimulator has been activated the entire duration. I hypothesize that my pain will remain rather low, due to the warmer seasonal temperatures. We'll see.

Letting the Days Go By (Same as it Ever Was)

That's no moon... it's a spiky ball used for desensitization of the nerves located on the bottom of my right foot.

I haven't updated lately because I've been focused on my physical well-being and I've neglected this exercise of writing which has been good for my brain in the past and I need to get back to it. I'm nearing completion of my prescribed physical therapy. I enjoy completion and find a sense of peace when a task has reached its end. However, every time I arrive at therapy and I'm asked how I am doing, I feel I'm letting down the therapists and myself because I always answer, "the same." I almost want to lie and say I'm doing better than ever and everything is great just so I could bring happiness to the faces of the therapists that I work with instead of that, 'I'm not mad at you, I'm just disappointed in you' look that I'm greeted with when I'm being honest.

I have been subjected to a barrage of new exercises/stretches with the goal of improved mobility. I asked my therapists to do whatever it takes and that I'm willing to beat the hell out of myself for this want need of mine. I've begun BioStim and Astym, or A-Stim, therapy. XXX INSERT UNCOMFORTABLE BAD JOKE HERE XXX. One improvement I've noticed is the sensitivity in the nerves located in the bottom of my foot, which is a big deal because the less you can make it feel like you are walking barefoot on glass, the better. I have been given a home exercise program, too. One of the exercises is called "Toe Yoga." I was thinking about using a Sharpie to draw a smiley face on my big toe with a laurel wreath on top and then take a Kleenex to wrap around said toe and call the post 'ToeYoga, ToeYoga, ToeYoga!' but that would be too Rex Ryan foot-fetish weird.

Another improvement I can quantify using my phone as an indicator, is my tolerance for walking. While I still walk impeded, I can go much further for longer now. This week my phone says I'm averaging 3.5 miles/day which is great considering I trimmed my big toe's nail way too short that'd it hurt on a normal foot, let alone on my jacked foot. So I suppose there has been improvement. I guess I don't want to continue taking baby steps and after three years I was hoping to reach the moon by now.

Counterpoint, sleeping is not improving. Another benefit of walking more that I was looking forward to was sleeping more. It's not happening. I no longer take any medications at all. Not even melatonin. I have no trouble falling asleep, but come 4 A.M. I'm on like someone flipped a switch. Most days I'm in a daze and no matter how much energy I exert I'm not worn out. Maybe it's the battery pack powering me like the Energizer Bunny? Kidding aside, I'm worried this has to do with that traumatic brain injury and that really scares me.

Never Tell Me the Odds

When I began my new physical therapy treatment on April 17, I was interviewed by my therapist, Alex. I shared with him my ailments and how my doctor thinks that with my stimulator, perhaps my mobility can be improved. I also shared how this all started, you know the part where I was hit head-on by a semi-truck.

Anyway, I know Alex is a Blackhawks and Cubs fan. He currently lives in Oswego, grew up in Joliet and even was in school at NIU in DeKalb during the same time I worked for the newspaper there. He's married with at least one child and they have two dogs. His brother is getting married soon in Arizona. Last weekend, Alex went to Kenosha for fertilizer because he likes a green lawn, and even secretly competes with his neighbor for 'best lawn' on the block. He watches reality television and loves Game of Thrones. I know way more about Alex than I should.

During therapy today, I was watching another individual working on occupational therapy. I mentioned to Alex that I had to go through that after I awoke from my accident and two of my fingers were numb and didn't work right. My wife thinks that a nurse who inserted one of my PICC lines into me failed miserably and that's why I lost feeling in those fingers, as well as a blood clot that needed to be addressed for about six months afterward. Alex said he had a PICC line in him one time, too. This piqued my interest, so I asked what happened to him. Casually, Alex answered that he was in a vehicle accident.

"They are the worst, right?" I said. "What happened?"
"I was hit head-on by a semi-truck. I passed out from the heat and then it happened," he answered.
Wait. WHAT!?! Are you fucking with me? "You were hit by a semi, head-on?"
"Yes," Alex answered, again.

Now, my brain doesn't work as well as it used to and I was having difficulty processing this information. I'm ready to ask if he wants to go get a drink and to commiserate at this point.

"Where did it happen?" I asked.
"Near Route 52 and 47," he replied.

I couldn't believe it. My accident occurred just two (yes, exactly 2.0) miles north of his (I used Google Maps to be precise).

I told Alex that was incredible. I asked if he could appreciate the odds of us both surviving a head-on collision with a semi-truck only a couple miles from each other and we have been both brought together at this moment because of that? He agreed that it was a coincidence and then he went back to massaging my bad leg/foot. No big deal, I guess... wasn't that battle way too dark to see anything during Sunday night's Game of Thrones* episode? Hell yeah it was! That show is the best, amirite!?!

* I've never seen an episode of Game of Thrones. In fact, every time I'm flipping through the channels on Sunday night and it's on, it's either a sex scene or a fire-breathing dragon flying in an EPIC-looking sky. I don't get it. I only heard the episode was too dark while watching the news the next morning.