immobile [ih-moh-buhl]

incapable of moving or being moved.

Synonyms include: motionless, fixed, anchored, immovable

It felt like huge needles were implanted in my right foot, and every time I tried to stand on it, it stabbed me from the inside, making a 10-foot walk to the bathroom sink an excruciatingly painful task. It made everything, an excruciatingly painful task. I could barely sleep the last few days. The pain was throbbing even while I lay there in bed, unable to toss and turn because any movement hurt. Uuugghhh, I’m such a baby, right? I hate when I can’t do the simplest of things, like walk downstairs to get a glass of water.

At least this isn’t the first time this has happened. That’s a previously injured anterior tibial tendon for ya’. Once a bad tendon, always a bad tendon, I suppose. After my last post-surgery therapy session two years ago, Dr. Blaine told me, “If your foot starts to hurt again, you know the drill – Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation, ibufrofen, TENS unit and if hurts for more than a week, come see me.”

Well, it lasted a week and then some, so I went to go see a podiatrist who works with Dr. Blaine. Dr. Randhawa, who is two years younger than me, took a look at my foot, had me turn my foot every which way, and recommended an MRI. She wrapped my foot up into a tight right angle that actually really helped….until I had to take it off to take a shower. Then the pain, you know, shot straight back into my poor, no-arch-support feet.

I’ve been reading up on this injury, which is really common, especially in people who have tiny, flat feet and wear tiny, unsupportive shoes. Sue me, I love flats.

So yesterday I had an MRI for the very first time. It was an interesting experience; not at all what I expected, based solely on what I’ve seen on House or ER, of course. On TV, MRI machines don’t make all this noise that require the patient to wear earplugs. There were sounds that resembled metal banging against each other, or laser-shooting guns from Star Wars. As I lay there on the sliding table, I thought Han Solo and Luke Skywalker would come crashing through the door and carry me back to the Millennium Falcon. And when the technician said it would take 30-40 minutes, I thought he was kidding, but nope, I lay there, trying desperately not to move, for 30-40 minutes. I kept nodding off, wishing I’d brought a book or something to keep me occupied, which probably isn’t allowed since I’m not supposed to move.

I’ve been working from home the last three days, literally icing the area of concern every half hour, and trying not to want to pop another pair of Advils in my mouth. My podiatrist thinks I may need another cortisone shot, but she won’t know for sure until she sees my MRI results.

Until then, I’ll have to brave the discomfort a little longer. I’m starting to feel some soreness on my left foot, probably because I’ve been hopping on it the last few days. I hope it doesn’t result in tendonitis. If it does, just call me a tendon-killer.