After the two of weeks of stripping the wound, we added the Wound Clinic at the hospital to the list of those caring for me. My orthopedic doctor felt that my ankle stood the best chance of healing by having the wound clinic specialist care for it. We loved the nurses at the wound clinic. They made us smile when we really needed to smile. They took good care of my wound and also encouraged us. We laughed about my crazy looking foot. We nicknamed it the Hobbit foot. Due to the swelling, it was about two and a half shoe sizes longer and wider. And hairy. I guess they shaved my foot before surgery. We really don’t know why there was thick, black hair appearing on my foot. I’d never before had such hair on my feet, but it was rather manly looking...like a Hobbit’s foot. It was a good thing we liked the doctors and nurses at the Wound Clinic. We saw them a lot over the next several months.
The bones in my leg were on the path of healing. I think the healing process for the bones would have happened even quicker had it not been for the open wound. My body was trying its hardest to heal, but I am convinced that it was overwhelmed with all that was going on inside. After all, it hadn’t even been that long since our son was born. So I was postpartum, had broken bones that needed healing, and there was this open wound. That is a lot for one body to be dealing with at one time.
As I said before, the bones were beginning to heal. I was still in a decent amount of pain. By this time Christmas had long come and gone. It had been a whirlwind of activity. (I thought I had been pretty lucid during all the festivities, but months later, when E wanted to play a new board game, I hadn’t remembered where it came from. She had gotten it for Christmas from family.) New Year’s had also come and gone, along with all the cards and most of the visitors. We were all in pain. I was in mostly physical pain, but I can’t deny the emotional and spiritual pain and loneliness I felt inside. Still, I think those next 3-4 months were harder for Scott than for me. Being a caretaker of a patient can be one of the most challenging experiences in anyone’s life. On top of being my caretaker, he was still working full time. Business for him was stressful because of the down turn in the economy. His salary was partial-commission, which means he got a base salary and earned commission off of his sales. During the down turn in the economy, he wasn't selling enough to collect on his commission. He was making much less money than he had been, but still dealing with pressure to keep selling. He was also caring for our two young children. Both our moms sacrificed a lot in order to help take care of our household. And while most of our friends had, in effect, disappeared, we had a small band of precious friends who communicated with us frequently and sometimes brought us meals. The ladies in my small Bible Study group continued to meet and all agreed we would just meet at our house so I could continue to be a part of the group. We could not have made it through this incredibly dark time without God’s mercy and grace shown to us through these ladies. They became, for me, the picture of compassion and sacrifice. They rejoiced when we rejoiced and cried when we cried. Unfortunately, there was probably more crying than rejoicing during this part of the journey.
During the next few months, my leg stayed in a boot. I couldn’t risk opening up the wound when we were trying to get it to heal, so I had to wear to boot in order to keep weight and pressure off the wound area. I was not allowed to get the wound wet during that whole time, which meant taking sponge baths while it was healing. As a matter of fact, I took sponge baths for the majority of the nearly 11 months of this whole ordeal. It was a humbling experience to have others help me do the basics of going to the bathroom and helping with baths. Most of the time, especially in the beginning, Scott was the one helping me get to the toilet or wash my hair. There were a couple of times that my precious friends had to help me wash my hair once Scott went back to work.
Anyway, after about 4 months, skin finally completely covered the area where the wound was. I was able to walk without wearing the boot cast. Even though I had just begun to do physical therapy, we decided to plan a trip to Disney World. We needed to get out. We needed to have a little fun. We needed a change of scenery. While we needed to get out and have fun, I still felt guilty about going on the trip because we couldn’t really afford it at the time. We prayed about it and trusted that God would provide the funds. God blessed us with an absolutely wonderful trip. M was 10 months old and E had just turned 5 years old. My walking, or rather limping, was at a slow pace, but I was moving without the use of crutches or a wheelchair. We had planned a week’s vacation so we would have plenty of time to take breaks and rest. After lunch each day we would go back to our resort room for nap time. I would ice my ankle and take ibuprofen. Then we’d go back until the fireworks had finished. When we got back each night, I would repeat the ice pack & ibuprofen procedure. Not once did I have any pain or problem with my ankle that week. Between the near-record high heat and the miles and miles of walking, there were plenty of opportunities for something to go horribly wrong with my ankle. I am convinced God showed us mercy that week and allowed us to have the most smooth Disney trip ever in the history of Disney trips.
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