Saga of the Foot - Part 1

Yeah, I've decided to brave this subject. I promise you, there's humor woven into the story, but it's not instantly apparent. This story is also the culmination of things I've written about before, so expect a degree of repetition. I'm not repeating things to bore you. I'm repeating things in the hopes of drilling them into your head. 

It's better that I use words than an actual drill, isn't it?

First, let's take another look at a normal foot x-ray. Keep in mind that I searched for one that I could look at without asking, "What the heck is that?!?" Really, "normal foot x-ray lateral view" brought up images that did NOT look normal. Remember, I'M NOT A DOCTOR, but having seen what MY foot looks like, I can basically look at what they considered "normal" and say, "No, something's wrong in there. Here's hoping whoever labeled this for the internet wasn't that person's doctor."

As normal a foot as I could find.

Now let's look at my feet.

Right foot. I'll explain the circles.

My left foot. I said I'd explain the circles!

Don't rush me!

Yes, the left foot is post op of my second Charcot reconstruction. It can't be helped; they're all I have left. The smaller circles are around genuine bone spurs. On the left, it formed a kind of hook. On the right, it looks like an upside down shark fin. As for the bigger circles, those are the collapsed arches. These latter deformities were visible without x-rays, presenting as rocker bottom feet. Just imagine the sole of your foot curving like the runners of a rocking chair.

My complaint to the foot and ankle specialist I was seeing at the time was that the bone spurs were starting to become a problem. I was developing painful scar tissue under them. I would take a step, the bone spur would first land on the scar tissue, and a split-second later the spur would slip off the scar tissue and stab into the tissues that hadn't scarred.

The doctor's observations were that the fused bones in both of my feet were stable, so he could go in and do some plaining on the bottom of my feet. I needed the spurs addressed, but he sold me on addressing the collapsed arches while I was already in the operating table. Kind of like how the car salesman sells you on upgrading the sound system in your car for an extra $1,500 when you're not even a die hard audiophile.

NOTE: I'm not sure if it should be "plaining" or "planing," so I'm going with the former because a plain is a flat piece of land with few trees. As far as I know, there were no trees growing out of my feet.

So it was that I was scheduled for bilateral foot surgery. This meant that he would operate on BOTH feet simultaneously. I was a little worried about him messing with both feet at the same time, but was assured it could be done and I wouldn't be in excruciating pain. And he was right. I wasn't in excruciating pain... yet. 

Of the surgery itself, he said the most shocking thing he encountered was the amount of scar tissue he encountered along the collapsed arches of my right foot. It was so thick and tough that he initially thought it was bone!

Doesn't this all sound like fun? Some of you may be saying, "Damn, Rob. Sounds like you went through Hell." Alas, you're missing the point if that's the only thought you're having. I'm not telling this story for entertainment. I'm trying to warn you that THIS COULD HAPPEN TO YOU IF YOU DON'T MAINTAIN CONTROL OF YOUR DIABETES! Probably not exactly as it happened to me, but something very similar.

Now for a slight divergence in this story because I have to tell you about my ex. I could write an entire book about the things she did and didn't do, but the two things you need to know about her was that she worked at the nearby hospital cleaning operating rooms and that she showered once every two or three weeks. 

Yes, it WAS disgusting! She got away with this at work by applying deodorant and body spray before leaving our apartment. But by the time she got home, she STANK! What's more, she would get mad at me if I pleaded with her to shower.

Why is this important? Because my ex was working in a bacteria rich environment and not washing it all away on a daily basis. You see, hospitals are something of a contradiction. They have staff dedicated to keeping everything clean, but bacteria-laden patients are in and out all day. Those hard-working cleaning staff members are always playing catch-up. As a result, my ex was bringing home all sorts of microscopic ugliness and allowing it to grow.

What happened to me next might be entirely her fault.

A few weeks after my surgery, it was becoming impossible to walk on my left foot. It hurt so damn much! I wasn't about to fiddle with my bandages, but the pain reached a point where I had to take a look and find out what was going on.

What I saw instantly filled me with horror! It looked like I'd somehow inserted a golf ball into the sole of my foot. The entire area was covered in clear fluid and the skin looked pale and lifeless. Seriously, my mind immediately leaped to the idea that necrosis was next. Thankfully, I was wrong. The skin was merely macerated, meaning that it has been saturated in fluid. (Don't worry. You'll get an excellent view of macerated skin in time.) But when I called my doctor's office, I was in tears, convinced that if I went to the hospital that I was going to lose the foot.

The hospital was exactly where I was told to go. By the time the office returned my call, which was in under 15 minutes, I'd come to realize a couple of things. Whatever was leaking from my foot wasn't pus and there was no bad smell coming from my foot. The thing that always comes to mind when I'm fretting over possible infections is a moment in Saving Private Ryan. A medic asks one of the Army Rangers to smell a patient's leg and tell him "if it smells south of cheese." Since my foot didn't smell cheese-like at all, I was less panicky.

I was still worried, though. Pain and excessive swelling are two of the things that post op patients are supposed to report immediately to their doctor, and I had both of those in spades!

Here, dear reader, is where I'm going to end this part of the story. Why? Because my hospitalization was something of an adventure unto itself. And, no, you don't get even the tease of the beautiful, scantily clad young woman. You already have three sexy x-rays. Don't be so needy.