Well, this week was supposed to be my triumphant discharge from PT. Nearly 7 months of improvement, and I’d be on my own to keep moving forward. And then, the shoe drops. Or should I say, what goes into the shoe drops. My therapist thinks I need to get a new ankle foot orthotic (AFO). Disappointed doesn’t begin to describe how I feel about it.
How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways. No matter how many times my first AFO was tweaked, my foot would be in horrific pain after 3-4 hours of wearing it. The hard material would just rip up the bottom of my foot, and I could barely walk if I wore it tool. The ball of my foot was so tender, and I had terrible callouses on the side of my foot. One of my therapists put padding in the foot of the AFO to ease the pain, but then I couldn’t put the shoe on by myself. Modified independent living is not going to happen when I can’t put on my shoes.
I had to wear knee-highs to keep the AFO from rubbing against my leg, but not all knee-highs were high enough for me. I have to buy bigger shoes to incorporate the thing, and the only pairs I currently have are a pair of tennis shoes and an ugly pair of black Mary Janes. I can’t stand paying $150 for butt-ugly shoes, yet I haven’t found reasonable alternatives.
Oh, and while I do fall less when wearing the AFO, I fall harder and have a much more difficult time getting back up. I was completely terrified of curbs because I would lose my balance climbing up or down. And I have a very tough time going up the stairs or climbing over the door frame to walk into my house since I have to lift up the damn thing.
When my therapist gave me her recommendation, I replied, “I have to convince myself that this isn’t a huge step backwards”. She assured me that it wasn’t. I didn’t have to wear it 24/7, I could just wear it when I was tired. It’s just another tool to help me. I was fighting off tears when I went back to work, and three days later, it still has me down.
But I’m moving forward with it. My therapist told me I could wait a few months if I wanted or get started right away. I knew that if I delayed at all, I would drag out the wait as along as I could. Instead, I promised to call the orthotist that afternoon. I called as promised, and I set up the appointment/fitting with her for the Monday after Thanksgiving. So on Monday, I’ll put on a happy face – oh, who am I kidding?- I’ll be polite and get fitted for the detestable device. If I were in the mood to be optimistic about it (but I’m not), I’d point out that this time it should exceed my low expectations, since it can’t suck more than it did the first time.
I have to convince myself it’s not a step backward. Maybe if I say it often enough I’ll start believing it.
