Anikleversary

Three years ago today, I found myself in the Accident and Emergency department of Derriford Hospital in Plymouth having a plaster cast, that reached from my toes to the middle of my thigh, applied.

And I was in total shock.

The day before I'd gone to step up on to a pavement, caught my foot inside the bottom of my opposite trouser leg, missed the curb and slipped backwards. I ended up flat on my face on the pavement. I'd also ruptured my achilles tendon and broken my ankle, although I didn't know it then.

I was so embarrassed at having fallen over in a busy street that, despite several people stopping to ask if I was okay, I actually got up and hopped home, which was fortunately only a short distance away. I didn't go to A&E until the following day, a Saturday, where one of the first questions they asked me was 'Where have you been for the last 24 hours?'

The extent of my injury, and of the plaster cast, was shocking enough. But it was a week before Christmas and I was over 250 miles away from my family in a city where I still knew very few people, having moved there just five months before.

I made a good decision to call my then boss, principally to tell him that I wasn't sure that I would be in work on Monday since I didn't see how I could do dentistry in a thigh length cast. I wasn't expecting the offer to go and  stay at his house. And when I later called my parents, I wasn't expecting them to make the 500+ mile round trip rescue mission that they duly did on the Sunday. (They probably weren't expecting to find me standing on one leg at the sink, doing the washing up, when they arrived at my flat either! But you know what it's like when mum comes round and the housework isn't spot on...!)

The last three years have been an amazing rollercoaster when my right ankle is concerned. From the initial 12 weeks in plaster, to a tendon re-rupture just a couple of weeks later, through a consultant  who badly mistreated me, three weeks in hospital due to pain mismanagement that sent me into DKA, to a re-rupture in May last year just days after starting work at a new practice. The third rupture resulted in my third surgery - a tendon transfer - the healing of which was compromised by my Addison's diagnosis one month after surgery. Nothing I write here can truly do justice to the journey I've been on. I'm just truly thankful just to be able to walk after honestly believing it would never happen again. And more than that, I can climb stairs, run for a bus and work out at the gym. The only thing I'm not able to do is walk on tip toes.

I guess that is a small price to pay.

Ironically enough, something which happened almost exactly three years prior  may have played a role  in the initial tendon rupture.

On December 16th 2001, I was celebrating Christmas with my then-boyfriend. We were going to our separate families for Christmas, so had planned our own special day over the weekend. During that day, I felt progressively more and more ill until I gave up and went to bed at around 8pm. An hour or so later, unable to rouse me properly, then-boyfriend made the decision to call an ambulance. It is hard to say that it is a decision that saved my life, since the crew that attended saw my age and a half-finished bottle of wine on the dining table and made an assumption that I was drunk, although I'd had just a single glass of wine more than six hours earlier. They initially refused to take me to hospital, and only did so at then-boyfriend's insistence.

That is what saved my life.

I was suffering from encephalitis.

Suffice it to say that my parents were given the horrifying news the following the day that I might not make it to Christmas.

Real People Sick on a grand scale.

But obviously you wouldn't be reading this now if I hadn't made it.

And as for how this relates to my ankle injury?

Firstly, one of the drugs that I was given intravenously was Ciprofloxacin. This is an antibiotic known, in high does, to be associated with tendonitis and tendon rupture.

Secondly, when I came out of the acute illness, I had lost sensation and motor control over the lower right hand side of my body. This may have been related to pressure on spinal nerves due to swelling caused by the illness itself. It may have been due to damage caused by repeated attempts at a lumbar puncture. This wasn't my first experience of a lumbar puncture. We'd already ascertained I have "unusual spinal anatomy". There is a possibility that spinal nerves were "twanged" in this attempt. Even my neurologist is unsure to this day.

Either way, I had to re-learn to walk. I was left with a foot-drop (inability to raise my foot). I walked with crutches for a long time and used a splint for much longer. My desire to wear something other than trainers (although I had killer Buffalo's for nights out!) probably led me to abandon splint usage long before I was really ready. And walking around with an uncorrected foot drop can lead to shortening of the achilles tendon. Which in turn increases the risk of rupture...

Six years on from my run in with encephalitis and three years on from injuring my ankle I'm just very thankful, both for being alive and for being able to walk.

I've learned the hard way not to take those things for granted.

Comments

[in search of balance]

What a rollercoaster! My dad had 2 achilles tendon breaks (same tendon; complete breaks) and a tendon graft surgery, and still has a bit of trouble with his.

Your stories about encephalitis scare me a little. I have chronic Valley Fever, which can escalate to meningitis which then has a pretty grim prognosis, and so every time I get a headache it's a bit frightening. I'm so sorry to hear about all of that, and I wish that you didn't have to experience it, but I'm very glad that you're still around and healthy, and I know I'm far from the only one who feels that way.

Happy Ankleversary, and congratulations on all the ankle progress you've made! :) Here's to much more in the years to come.

[Rachel]

I think that it's "interesting" that things that help us in one respect, hurt us in others.

One of the anti-depressants I was on to treat a major depressive episode ended up causing weight gain (and whether it messed with my thyroid function along the way remains to be seen). The anti-depressant worked, until I had gained so much weight that I got depressed again. (and then came type 2)

[Scott K. Johnson]

A journey for sure.

You've come a long way, and I applaud you for working so hard to just not be able to stand on your tippy-toes. As you say, that is a small price to pay.

Wow.

You've learned some valuable "life wisdom" through your journey, and we're all very thankful that you are gracious enough to share it all with us.

Take care Caro - thanks for being you!