Life Since Da Boot
I can't believe it's been 50 days already. I had my surgery on April 6th, so it's been nearly 2 months since then.
I've come a long way but there still a ton of hard work ahead. I know because just from sittin' on the loo doing my numero two, I would gingerly place my injured right foot on the ground and it would feel completely foreign to me, as if that foot was not apart of my own body; almost like I'm putting my foot on a bed of prickly nails. It's not as bad as it was when I first got my cast off though. Back then (a few days ago), it was numb and tingly and at some points would go completely numb and would go purple from lack of circulation (not sure from what).
The rash has gotten so much better. I think just exposing my skin to the air and sunlight has helped tremendously. Also, a couple of days ago, I washed my leg for the first time with warm water and soap and it was f'n GLORIOUS! I even used a loufa in the area adjacent to the wound. I still keep that whole leg out of the dirty bath water since I don't want an infection but being able to just rinse it with running water feels f'n amazing. What feels really great is using a cotton ball soaked in cool 70% rubbing alcohol and giving it a thorough wipe-down. Instant itch-relief. (Sooo much better than that nasty back scratcher I was using to get into my cast.)
I took these photos 2 days ago when that bottom scab finally came off after I took a hot bath. With a little help from my rubbing alcohol friend, I peeled back the old bandages and then scraped carefully with my nails to remove most of the excess dead skin. A photo speaks a thousand words, so enjoy!
Before the Scab Came Off:
Last night before bed I was having sort of a despair/pity party for myself wondering if I would ever be able to be a competitive athlete again.
Would I dare try olympic lifting, powerlifting, or even just deep stretching? (After all, I was a yoga instructor for a short while in India.) In Ashtanga Yoga during the sun salutations, especially in downward dog, both of your achilles are stretched to the limit as you strive to keep both heels firmly planted on the ground (as if you're establishing roots through the base of your heels). Just thinking about that movement scares me now and yet I loved the way that asana made me feel.
I dunno if I will be able to do that again...even if I could and would, I think there would be a nagging linger of fear or doubt in the back of my mind telling me to dial it back and not push it since I don't want a re-rupture. That would be the worst part of all this.
Well, I can get over any mental setbacks. I just want to make sure that I am fully healed 100% physically.
Anyways, I don't want to jump the gun. I think with serious PT, I will be back in tip-top shape and need to just focus on the positive now.
Once again, I'm try and be a kind-hearted soul. If you'e stuck around following this blog this far along, you might as well get something to smile about. So I won't leave you with those foul, stomach-turning images.
Boys Will Be Boys:
Once they knew I had the camera out...let's just say boys will be boys. I showed Whistler the photo and he said, "We're a bunch of perverts! LOL
Boys Are Fascinated by Stairs:
"Hotel Vance" is just one-story, so they were both endlessly fascinated by it.
Weston Being A Self-Professed "Monkey."
(The boys are crazy but they were raised well. I told 'em someone's gonna have to fish it out and clean it well. Whistler scrubbed it clean and I reminded him to use soap. That's why Whistler was talking about his hands smelling like ____.)
Just for the record, my dang leg ain't actually amputated! (I know it looks like it's just as stump.) I was just trying to get down into the shot, more or less. I spread my crutches far apart and tried to kneel down. Anyways, my friggin' head is chopped off but it's still a sweet shot, considering it was taken by free cell phone (that's right, I'm the last one in the free world without a smart phone).
Max is all calm and collected down there while we crowd around him trying to accomodate the real master of the house haha.
************
(*1st time I've ever gotten a speeding ticket and there were extenuating circumstances but the cop wasn't hearing it. He was out of his patrol car and crouching in the bushes with his radar gun, like some sneaky thief. He was positioned near the middle of a short stretch of 35 mph zone in a primarily 45 mph road. Anyways, it's a story I don't want to get into. I'm just glad my driving record will be pristine again after I complete this course.)
Now I don't normally like these types of videos because they can verge on being preachy or PSA-like, so I was actually starting to zone out as it was playing until about 1:30 when the dad started to give his speech on his son.
It struck a chord and I honestly found it incredibly moving. I even found the drunk driver to be very pitiable. I thought the letter he wrote to the victim's family was very touching and sincere.
(You may think I'm a corny sap, but give it a try, you may change your mind.)
I can't believe it's been 50 days already. I had my surgery on April 6th, so it's been nearly 2 months since then.
I've come a long way but there still a ton of hard work ahead. I know because just from sittin' on the loo doing my numero two, I would gingerly place my injured right foot on the ground and it would feel completely foreign to me, as if that foot was not apart of my own body; almost like I'm putting my foot on a bed of prickly nails. It's not as bad as it was when I first got my cast off though. Back then (a few days ago), it was numb and tingly and at some points would go completely numb and would go purple from lack of circulation (not sure from what).
The rash has gotten so much better. I think just exposing my skin to the air and sunlight has helped tremendously. Also, a couple of days ago, I washed my leg for the first time with warm water and soap and it was f'n GLORIOUS! I even used a loufa in the area adjacent to the wound. I still keep that whole leg out of the dirty bath water since I don't want an infection but being able to just rinse it with running water feels f'n amazing. What feels really great is using a cotton ball soaked in cool 70% rubbing alcohol and giving it a thorough wipe-down. Instant itch-relief. (Sooo much better than that nasty back scratcher I was using to get into my cast.)
I took these photos 2 days ago when that bottom scab finally came off after I took a hot bath. With a little help from my rubbing alcohol friend, I peeled back the old bandages and then scraped carefully with my nails to remove most of the excess dead skin. A photo speaks a thousand words, so enjoy!
Before the Scab Came Off:
Process of Peeling Off the Nastiness:
 |
This photo was taken the following night after the previous photo. In case you were wondering, I re-bandaged the scabbed over incision and then the next night checked to see if the scab was ready to come off; and alas, it was.
It was a bit scary since when I tried this the first night I got my boot the incision had not fully closed up and as I tried to remove the bandage the wound was reopening! I didn't want that to happen again so I was really cautious this time. With that said, it was hella satisfying to get that black mess off of me!
Doubts & Concerns (THE FEAR)
Last night before bed I was having sort of a despair/pity party for myself wondering if I would ever be able to be a competitive athlete again.
Would I dare try olympic lifting, powerlifting, or even just deep stretching? (After all, I was a yoga instructor for a short while in India.) In Ashtanga Yoga during the sun salutations, especially in downward dog, both of your achilles are stretched to the limit as you strive to keep both heels firmly planted on the ground (as if you're establishing roots through the base of your heels). Just thinking about that movement scares me now and yet I loved the way that asana made me feel.
I dunno if I will be able to do that again...even if I could and would, I think there would be a nagging linger of fear or doubt in the back of my mind telling me to dial it back and not push it since I don't want a re-rupture. That would be the worst part of all this.
Well, I can get over any mental setbacks. I just want to make sure that I am fully healed 100% physically.
Anyways, I don't want to jump the gun. I think with serious PT, I will be back in tip-top shape and need to just focus on the positive now.
W&W Vance Experience
Once again, I'm try and be a kind-hearted soul. If you'e stuck around following this blog this far along, you might as well get something to smile about. So I won't leave you with those foul, stomach-turning images.
You've already seen Weston. Well here's Whistler (and the last photo you get to meet Max; his older brother was unfortunately killed by a motorist.)
Here are some nice photos of Fraternal Love:
Boys Will Be Boys:
 |
Boys Are Fascinated by Stairs:
"Hotel Vance" is just one-story, so they were both endlessly fascinated by it.
Weston Being A Self-Professed "Monkey."
Classic West:
 |
Gotta love that tie-dye shirt!
Shenanigans:
This really cracked me up. Nearly as much as when Weston accidentally bounced my lacrosse ball (used for working out the knots and balls of tension in my muscle, back when I still CrossFitted) into the friggin' toilet (what are the chances of that?)! Thank G-d, I flushed.
(The boys are crazy but they were raised well. I told 'em someone's gonna have to fish it out and clean it well. Whistler scrubbed it clean and I reminded him to use soap. That's why Whistler was talking about his hands smelling like ____.)
Max, Whistler, and me en La Villa de la Ayala-Vance.
Just for the record, my dang leg ain't actually amputated! (I know it looks like it's just as stump.) I was just trying to get down into the shot, more or less. I spread my crutches far apart and tried to kneel down. Anyways, my friggin' head is chopped off but it's still a sweet shot, considering it was taken by free cell phone (that's right, I'm the last one in the free world without a smart phone).
Max is all calm and collected down there while we crowd around him trying to accomodate the real master of the house haha.
All these photos of family reminded me of a video I had to watch for my online defensive driving course for the speeding ticket I received*.
(*1st time I've ever gotten a speeding ticket and there were extenuating circumstances but the cop wasn't hearing it. He was out of his patrol car and crouching in the bushes with his radar gun, like some sneaky thief. He was positioned near the middle of a short stretch of 35 mph zone in a primarily 45 mph road. Anyways, it's a story I don't want to get into. I'm just glad my driving record will be pristine again after I complete this course.)
Now I don't normally like these types of videos because they can verge on being preachy or PSA-like, so I was actually starting to zone out as it was playing until about 1:30 when the dad started to give his speech on his son.
It struck a chord and I honestly found it incredibly moving. I even found the drunk driver to be very pitiable. I thought the letter he wrote to the victim's family was very touching and sincere.
(You may think I'm a corny sap, but give it a try, you may change your mind.)
