Sylvia's Journal

Today will be entirely focused on my departure. There are no therapies and nothing to cut up the day. The suitcase is open on the bed downstairs and I have been throwing things that will need to travel with me in and around it. I have checked the weather in Nairobi and Holland so I know which clothes to bring. On the Nairobi end of the trip my friend and colleague Ida is securing airport assist, plastic tubs for my daily foot soak, a massage therapist and maybe even a physical therapist. I will be wearing my plastic moonboot for protection and comfort on the way from here to there. Not surprisingly, my dreams were all about travel. They were good dreams.

Yesterday was another very low energy day. It is as if my body has known, this entire week, that it needs to save up all its energy for the trip. I was never very good at being with low energy. Some people just take a nap but that is too radical for me. Before the crash, when I felt low I could go for a walk or a bike ride and get my energy back up. Now such physical activity is out of the question and I have not yet discovered other means to change things around. I did my foot soak, which helps a bit because I can walk better afterwards, and then I made a pumpkin pie, which made things worse because I stood on my foot too long (but smell and taste were worth it).

I had my orthopedic check-up yesterday. I first saw a physician assistant for about 5 minutes. He looked at my foot and asked a few questions. When I mentioned the continuing numbness and hypersensitivity of my foot (sole/toes respectively), he suggested the nerve might have gotten squished (not his words) in the tarsal tunnel. I did not know there was such a thing in my foot. It is like the carpal tunnel in my wrist. No one had ever mentioned this. It can take as long as a year to get better, or never at all. I was really taken aback by the way he said ‘never at all.’ There was a little hint of sadism in the expression on his face, as if he was still in Haloween mode. I figured he was a butcher or Freddie with the chainsaw. These things take a few days to wear off.

Then I got to see the real doctor for a couple of minutes. He wiggled my ankle and asked about pain. Good, good he nodded, this will take time. I discovered there is a formula. I love to hear about formulas; it is something I can hold on to, count off days, stuff like that. Recovery of muscle strength and soft tissue damage takes twice as long as the period in the cast. That would be 4 months. The next time I will see him, January 3, all should be well. Let’s hope the formula applies to me. These visits to my orthopede are very short. I think I am not an interesting case, since he took over from another orthopede and never got to operate on me.

Axel went by train to Brookline for his therapy session with Paul who could not make it to Manchester this week; a big undertaking. He took advantage of his time in Boston to meet up with Phil Karber for coffee and talk about adventure travel (without capital letters), a stop at the Paper Source for his card project and then back to North Station where he joined thousands of commuters for the return trip to the North Shore. He returned in great spirits and full of energy and participated in the cooking and clean-up while I marvelled at is energy (it is usually the other way around) from the comfort of my recliner chair.