And So, The (Blogging) Journey Begins...

After years of quietly following (a.k.a. stalking) other people's blogs, I have decided to jump on the bandwagon and start my own.  Many of you have specific blogs about your growing families, health concerns, hobbies, fashion, and even food (these are usually my favorite ones ;)). In the interest of not discriminating against one particular subject, this blog will strive to include a little bit of everything all thrown into one. 

Obviously, the most important part of my life include my one-of-a-kind husband, Derrick, (if you know him, y'all know what I'm talking about), our beautiful, spirited, opinionated, fearless, fourteen month old daughter, Harper Katherine, and our fur babies: Finn (a two year old golden retriever) and two fourteen year old (but young at heart) cats, Callie and Hannah.  We have a full house, which I am sure will grow even more as the years pass us by.  Needless to say, we have an abundance of (mis)adventure over on Whispering Oak Lane in Chapin.

Usually, the motivation behind a family-based blog is to document daily life, memorable events, and those cutesy pictures that us mom-folk tend to overly post on social media for family, friends, and similarly inclined online stalkers. It's sorta like new twist on the old school photo albums our grandparents used to show off. Every. Time. You.Visited. 

Well, my motivation for this little blog of mine is a little different from the common nostalgia-esqe counterpart. My motivation stems from one word. Therapy. 

Yep, that's right. I am trying to prevent myself from going crazy. I mean this in quite the literal sense.  There are some big things happening in the Hines household in the next few months, and I am being pro-active in obtaining an outlet for dealing with all the craziness that will soon consume my life. 

Calm down, I am not pregnant. Geesh.

Professionally, I have some important (stressful) events and decisions that will occur / be determined.  I won't bore anyone with these details at the moment, although I am sure in the New Year, I may change my mind.  

Personally, I have made a life-changing decision regarding my well-being and this decision will have an impact on my entire family.

Let me slow down, and give some background.  Those that know me well can scroll on down, because you already know the story I am about to tell.  Those that don't - well, here goes.  On December 7, 2002, I was in a really bad car accident. The details of the accident are irrelevant, but the outcome is not.  As a result of the accident, I broke (crushed) my right foot and ankle. At the time, the surgeon was concerned that I would lose my foot, but alas, the good Lord had other plans.  The official classification of the serious part of the injury is called a Hawkins Type III talus fracture.  (You know, just in case you ever decided to do random Googling on foot injuries) Anyways, the talus (which controls the blood flow to the foot) is one of the hardest bones to break in the body, and man, I did it right.  I crushed and dislocated it. Yep. Overachiever.  

The surgeon, with the assistance of some screws, put my foot back together, my parents moved me home, and I began an extremely lengthy recovery process.  The whole back story and recovery process during this time in my life could be the material for a whole other blog, so I am going to cut to the chase.  At the end of the day, my foot "healed" and I moved on with my life.  I was told that I would have limitations, to expect future issues (both of which I promptly ignored) and I was left a slight limp, which I became a pro at hiding. And, life went on.

Fast forward twelve years. 

Yeah, the doctor was right. Dammit. 

Over the last decade (wow, that makes me feel old), my slight limp has evolved into what could be termed a massive hobble, or even better, a legit pimp walk.  Even though some may strive to replicate my impressive gait, it has caused serious health implications to my overall body.  One "side effect" of the increased limitations in my right foot is that I have not been able to be as active as my previous life, and in the more recent months, active at all. I haven't been able to run since my accident, but for a few years, I could walk, ride a bike or take spinning classes, etc.  Over the years, my mobility has slowly decreased. Now, if I walk around Belk for thirty minutes, I literally cannot walk to the kitchen from my bedroom in the morning.  AND, to make matters worse, this stupid foot is causing problems for my knees, hips, and back...not to mention, the weight I have gained because of my lack of activity (and, I won't lie, lack of motivation.)  

Sometimes, I could seriously kick myself out of frustration.  Then, I remember that I only have one good foot...

I will admit, it took a long time for me to find the motivation to seek answers to fix the issues with my foot.  But, then, my wonderfully energetic child became mobile.  Seriously, the kid could beat the Kenyans over the Cooper River Bridge.  And, I can't keep up with her.  It is heart-wrenching.  

Harper = Motivation. 

You know, sometimes God works in mysterious ways.  My accident happened in Charleston, and I was treated by one of the best orthopedic surgeons in the state (and country, I believe).  However, I have since relocated to Chapin (sniff, sniff).  Would you believe that my surgeon ALSO relocated to Lexington??? God is Good. 

After many sleepless nights, I finally booked an appointment to consult with my original surgeon.  I went by myself, and although I put on a brave face, I was a nervous wreck.  The thing is, I knew he was going to tell me I needed surgery. And, I also knew that it seems impossible to navigate a two-story house and a toddler individually, much less together, with a cast.  But, at the same time, I had reached the threshold of my ability to cope with my disability. 

When Dr. Boyer walked in the room, he remembered me.  I know it seems silly, but this was so important to me.  Over the years, I have seen the look on people's faces when they realize I am limping or that I had a broken foot, which was causing a limitation in some way.  Because I don't seem outwardly "disabled," (I hate that word) I feel that people feel like I am making excuses or that my injury was not as significant as I make it seem. But, good ole Doc Boyer?? He knew. And he remembered that my break was one of the worst he had ever seen at that point in time. And for a moment, I felt validated.  Moving on...

During my appointment, my foot was x-rayed and we discussed my options.  I told him I just wanted to have as normal of a life as possible.  Normally,  the doctor would suggest pain management, cortisone shots or braces. However, the x-rays indicated that my foot was significantly impaired and needed further evaluation with a bone scan.  Dr. Boyer informed me that it was very likely I would need a fusion surgery but that the bone scan would give him more information.

Two weeks later, my parents came down and took me to the hospital for the bone scan.  It was pretty uneventful.  They give you a shot of radioactive "stuff" and tell you to come back in three hours. At that point, they take you to a room with those scary, huge circular machines that they slide you into.  Luckily, because it was just for my foot, I only had to go in halfway, and my upper body was on the outside of the machine. Thank goodness. Unfortunately, you don't get info right away, because they have to send the results to your doctor.

One week later...  

Derrick and I went together to meet with Dr. Boyer.  Derrick and I had discussed my previous conversation regarding the fusion, I was pretty much convinced that the doctor was going to tell me this was my best option. Not so much. Dr. Boyer comes in and says, "Well, I have your bone scan results, and I have compared them with your x-rays.  I can say one thing for certain... I wouldn't have been surprised if you came in here and told me you were in pain every second of the day."  (I thought to myself, duh, yes, but it gets old complaining about it for 12 years)  Dr. Boyer then continued with "There have been significant improvements with prosthetics..." 

He continued talking, but I tuned him out and started laughing.  Derrick's face went slack. Dr. Boyer was still talking, explaining something about how a prosthetic foot could actually flex like a real foot, or some crap like that.  I awkwardly continued to laugh and tell Derrick how funny the doctor was, "but seriously, tell me what we are going to do, and stop joking."  Dr. Boyer looked at me and said, "I am not joking.  The only way for you to lead a normal life is to have a prosthetic foot. I have people come in here and ASK for a prosthetic and their foot is not as bad as yours is. It is a completely reasonable request."

Shut the front door.  

This. Is. Not. Acceptable. 

After a few dumbfounding moments, I (graciously) explained to the good doc that amputation was not just something that I was prepared to discuss.  I had prepared to discuss a fusion. So let's discuss a fusion. Good grief. 

 Dr. Boyer then quickly explained that amputation was not the ONLY option, it was just the BEST option, IF I WANTED A COMPLETELY NORMAL LIFE. Uh-huh. Normal. Amputation. Same sentence? Not so much.  He explained that a fusion was still a good option, a possible option, and would let me live a mostly normal, pain-free life.  The fusion (which I will go into detail about in a later post, as this one seems to be getting excessively long...seriously, how many bathroom breaks have you taken?) is a great option, as long as it is successful, barring any complications. (which then, would take us back to Plan A ("A"  meaning awwwnawhhh)  After disclosing all of this oh-so-fun info, Dr. Boyer told us to think about it, plan for it, and call him to let him know our decision.  

So...about a month later....I scheduled the surgery.  We are going the fusion route.  The recovery time will be several months and I am sure even more headaches, stressful experiences, and hopefully, overwhelming successes.  The ironic thing is that the surgery is scheduled for December 3, 2014... Almost 12 years to the WEEK of the first surgery on my foot. Craziness. 

To bring this posting full circle, the purpose of my blog will be for my personal therapy.  I found out from my previous experience, that it is not a good thing to internalize fears, stress, and life in general. So, here is my outlet.  I promise (to try) not to make this a "woe is me" storyline.  I will throw in the antics of my husband, child, and fur babies for entertainment value and for posterity's sake.  The only thing I ask for in return is prayers for my sweet husband, child, parents, in-laws, and other family/friends that will be helping us in the coming months.  I am fully prepared for what is about to happen, but I worry for them... 

What can I say...I'm a mom, it's what I do.