Swept Off My Feet
The Kahuna's bare feet, before the bleeding and new bandages. The lighting doesn't show it will, but the toes are black-and-blue and the incision on each for starts at the base of the third and fourth toes.
The Iron Kahuna has never realized how much he used his feet before now. Just puttering around the house, he must log a quarter-mile throughout the day. A week after his surgery, his feet are still remarkably sore and the most the Kahuna had manage is a very slow shuffle.
His wheelchair has been a disaster. First, it's a crappy rental that veers constantly to the left. Second, the Kahuna had no idea how tough wheelchair locomotion would be. Every trip has to be well planned to make sure there's wheelchair access. His ungloved hands quickly became sore and raw. Doors are hard to open. Everything in stores seems too high. People either ignore the wheelchair-bound Kahuna or stare at him with a mixture of curiosity and pity.
The Kahuna has an all new empathy and admiration for his brothers and sisters in wheelchairs. It's a challenge on several different levels.
The doctor told the Kahuna to make an appointment if his bandaged feet got too funky and needed a change. But why go on the way to the doctor when the Kahuna's tootsies just needed to be cleaned and freshly wrapped?
So last night, the Kahuna decided to do it himself. Super big mistake. It didn't seem complicated, but somehow the Kahuna really screwed it up. At one point, his right foot started bleeding nicely, and when he picked off what looked to be a stray piece of dried blood, he only realized it was the knot to his stitches AFTER he had pulled it about an inch away from his skin, causing the stitches to tighten up on the incision and more bleeding.
His bleeding foot led to the Kahuna canceling his planned Pilates class and weight-lifting session -- probably not a great idea a week after surgery, but the Kahuna has been going effing crazy just sitting around.
Something tells the Kahuna that triathletes, with their obssessive-complusive gene, don't make great patients.
posted by Iron Kahuna at 12:52 PM
8 Comments:
Ahhh, this really is taking me back to high school with my two foot operations. There was the time the wheel came apart as I was speeding down a long ramp in school. And the time I accidentally ruined a cast in the bath tub and my doctor made me keep that soggy cast on for three more days in the dead of New England winter. Not to mention the bad mixture of demoral and trigonometry (sp?). Yeah, most households don't have doorways wide enough for wheelchairs, so you end up cheating just to go to the bathroom. Perhaps this is the time to immerse yourself in triathlon YouTube videos instead. This too shall pass - even though it seems like slo-mo right now.
That part about picking off the dried blood and the ramifications of that action was a bit too much info for this guy.
Complaining is a great sign of improvement and I am glad to hear you are getting better.
wet floor + Wheelchair racing proved to be really fun when I broke my foot and had to use one for a while! But
i have to mention that I was 17 and completely careless at that time...
Get a handicap permit. At least you can park in those spots for a few days. In fact, keep it and use it at your next Ironman!
-Kevin
Amen about being bad patients.
THIS is a topic for a column, essay or even a book. Sort of handicapped "Paper Tiger" where you note what life is like and how people treat you. Living vicariously in LA, but with some gravity.
doood. you're dogs are BARKING!!! hey, at least you're maintaining some arm strength with the wheelchair??
you are damn right about being bad patients...
the only consolation is that we are generally in much better shape than most...so hospitals or doctors are more "foreign" to us
good luck on the mend
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