Bunions, Bootlegging and Fitting the Glass Slipper
Posted: Saturday, February 21, 2009
by John Brazell
Of late, I affectionately call her "Long John" (Silver).
In real life she's my lovely spouse of more than a few years, SB, who is recovering from foot surgery. For now she's the lovely peg-legged SB. Hmm, or is boot-legged?
She wears something resembling a ski boot on her recovering foot that makes for a walking cadence of step clop, step clop, startling on the wooden floors at midnight. A woman of courage she has proven it's possible to survive, actually thrive, with barely adequate home health care. Yep, that's me.
For your own personal reference, and entertainment, I'll share some of the events and embarrassing family secrets leading up to her procedure. Let's keep this to ourselves, okay?
Our immediate household of two has suffered from "hoof and mouth disease" for years she with her hooves and I mean that in the most complimentary way, like prancing little ones - and moi with mouth disease, known otherwise as any combination of babbling, groveling and generally saying the wrong thing at the wrong time to one's spouse. My half is potentially fatal; hers got fixed last week.
The orthopedic surgeon removed a bunion and cyst and in the process straightened a couple of toes on her dominate foot, the kicking one. The other was fixed long ago. Her problem was mostly inherited but aggravated by the wearing of stylish shoes that squeeze the toes to a point much like sausage into a grinder. From which, I suppose, come the age-old reference of toes to little "piggies".
She came to grips with the need for a foot fix after the cyst appeared from nowhere to compete for shoe space with her bunion, an adversarial second cousin. It was a feeling of resignation Sunday eve before I scanned the better part of the newspaper, the junior high school produced PARADE Magazine.
Fortuitous or not, in the middle of the magazine was a featured article about accidents in hospitals. How great, or bad, is this timing, I mumbled but not loud enough for her to hear? Thousands occur and it's important to take every possible precaution. Start by not scheduling surgery early Monday morning, I thought. Oops, can't do anything about that now. "Mark the specific body part to be altered, improved, removed, tightened or loosened." Aha, I can do that if I can find a marker.
Early morning over her mild objection, I wrote boldly on her right foot, FIX THIS ONE FIT FOR THE GLASS SLIPPER and delivered her safely to the Pre-Op area. First nurse in read the notation, smiled, left and told all twenty people working in the area. The anesthesiologist, a fun loving and pleasant woman, appeared, discussed her role in inducing a deep slumber and cooed, "Oh, that's so sweet and you must be Prince Charming." Others flitted in and out of the curtained area -- most stopped to read the metatarsal message and grinned as though it were a passage from a Harlequin Novel.
This I should say SB checked out the doctor very well, in a manner of speaking. He is a young Clint Eastwood look-alike who played college football, is a tri-athlete, has the body of Adonis, is consultant to college athletic teams and a specialist in ankle and foot surgery. He didn't wear a cape. Most importantly, every one of the O R nurses agreed, "He is just the cutest thing."
The surgery was over in an hour. She was awake and mostly coherent after another hour or so. Dr. Cute found me waiting and explained that all went well. An hour later a friendly nurse called my name, smiled and asked me to follow her through the maze to Cinderella who was still groggy.
After the pleasantries and while we walked, the friendly nurse said, "You must be prince charming."
To which I replied with a grimace, "Yes, pretty sad isn't it?"
Post Log: Doc Cute took out the stitches yesterday and says all is well. No mention was made of Glass Slippers. Check back with you in three or four months.
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Top-level comments on this article: (1 total)John, wanted to laugh some more so I began here. Hope SB's doing well. I had foot surgery in 1983, both feet. No bunions but looking between the metatarsal bones of the last two toes on each foot, you could see exposed phalanges. The pain was acute in hosiery then became unbearable in shoes. The morning after my same-day surgery, I didn't put those stylish shoes on to go to the kitchen. My boyfriend had come over to make brunch. I should have stayed in bed but as I rounded the corner, my right foot hit the baseboard. Fortunately for me, his athleticism spared me from worse agony. I passed out from the pain, into his arms. A trip to the doctor after an x-ray showed I did not damage anything.
It was the answer to my problem. Never again has it reoccurred. And mine also was hereditary. Dad had the same surgery when I was in high school.
You wife will enjoy her newly found pain-free feet freedom!
Oh yeah! I shocked the medical team when I told them what they discussed during my procedure. I could hear the sawing and drilling. I asked them to pull my gown down. My feet were in stirrups and I shouted I wasn't there to give birth, for *#&$^! They couldn't believe I remembered saying that or their response to my request.
As you can see, this brought back many memories. I enjoyed it and apologize for getting carried away. I did get my laughs for you. Thanks!Oh Avis, what a story this would be (is), now that it's over.No one knows better than you this is no picnic. Seems every person my wife runs into either needs or has had this surgery (primarily needs). What a darn high price women pay to feel pretty (high heels and sharp toes) It's been three months and SB has just now gotten out of the boot - all seems well.You're a sweetheart to respond which I'm so bad at!!Keep writing and having fun, cause I know that you do.Best, JB
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