Restingmotion

Or,

When is Plantar Fasciitis not Plantar Fasciitis?

A little over a week ago, on a Tuesday to be exact, I
developed pain in my right foot.  I
hobbled around, used a cane, used crutches (doesn’t everyone keep crutches.) It
got better, it got worse.  Walking
became impossible. 

I called my doctor. 
He told me to see the group PA, who poked my foot in the plantar fascia,
turned my ankle over, tested my motion, ordered x-rays and declared I had
plantar fasciitis.  Told me to take
Ibuprofen.

There is a certain genetically programmed part of my psyche
which I call  “the good
German”.  The doctor said take
Ibuprofen, I had no ibuprofen in my house so I bought Ibuprofen.  I took Ibuprofen. It took 36 hours of
constant reflux to realize that Ibuprofen and I are not compatible. 

I got better.

Then I got worse, much worse, almost as if I were being
punished for getting better without taking my Ibuprofen.

My feet swelled, but not just in the plantar fascia.  In fact the plantar fascia declined to
play in this game of “where does the swelling go next”.  My ankles swelled and hurt.  The areas above and below my knees
swelled up and turned varying shades of red.  By hands and wrists became hot and inflamed.  I could not use my hands.  I could not sleep because of the pain
in my hands.  I could not use
crutches because my hands refused to cooperate. 

I tried Ibuprofen. “Gotcha” said the reflux demon.   Twelve agonizing hours later I
tried aspirin.  I have always taken
aspirin.  Aspirin and I get along
easily together.  No reflux.  Somewhat less pain, reduced to major
annoyance level. 

Once again I was referred to the PA.  The thought of my taking Aspirin gives
the PA apoplexy.  He recommends
some new fangled kind of Tylenol. 
Some part of me is rather annoyed at the PA so “the good German” is
shoved back down into the recess of my mind and I do not go to the drugstore to
buy new-fangled Tylenol.  Better
stick with my old friend, aspirin. Mr. PA has no other treatment
recommendations despite the fact that my lips on the left side of my mouth had
quadrupled in volume, my left cheek was swollen, and my left eyelid twitched.

It was decided that I was having an adverse reaction to a Bisphosponate
 that was recently prescribed.  I was told to discontinue it, although the next dose was not
to be for another five days. He also ordered a Lyme Test but I doubted I had
Lyme: First I was involved in the Lymerix study, had all three shots without
any side effects and I think the vaccine has a good prevention rate.  Second, I haven’t been bitten by a
tick since the LAST Lyme test (the problem with living in an area with a high
incidence of Lyme disease is every time something hurts or swells, everyone
thinks it is Lyme.) Thirdly, I always practice good tick prevention techniques when I am
working outdoors. Lastly, the new medication seemed more likely, especially
since joint inflammation is a known side-effect, and I had only recently
started taking it.

The eyelid twitch and lip swelling went away but nothing
else got better.  I crawled to bed
one night.  One night I scooted
across on the house on my bum, eager to just try to hold on to enough fortitude
to get by until this nastiness was out of my system.

…

It got worse.

Two days later my throat swelled during the night and I
could not swallow easily, although I could breathe easily enough.  By morning half of my tongue had also
swollen and I could barely talk.  I
had more trouble swallowing but could still breathe.

This time my doctor’s office did not refer me to the PA.

After the triage nurse asked to see my tongue she
immediately called over another nurse, said she was taking me to room X, ushered
me into a wheelchair and whisked me away. 
They had IV steroids and Benadryl going before G even got back from the
valet parking.

I spent a good part of today in the hospital.  I can’t recall when I was so happy to be
there. 

Next time I go to the hospital I will get a pretty little
red bracelet to go with the white ID bracelet.

And the hospital parking garage was full.  The valet parked G’s car on the
street, not at all unusual, but apparently someone side-swiped it when
driving by and crushed his side view mirror.

Sometimes too much is never enough.