Eight weeks ago, on Monday, June 10, 2013, at a little before 6PM, my life changed. I was on my way to kickboxing class and was twisted around trying to get out the door card for the gym out of my purse. Not looking, I stepped up on the curb and started to fall forward. As I untwisted my body, I over-corrected with my right foot, twisting it and coming down on it on the curb. I felt a crunch and immediately knew something bad had happened. I lay there on the ground for a second assessing the damage and then quickly sat up on the curb. Panic and adrenaline seeped through my body. My right foot was already swelling; I could feel my shoe tightening. I thought briefly about going into the gym to get help but figured I would be better off going home. I was going to miss kickboxing class.
I limped to the car and drove the short distance home. It hurt to press on the gas pedal and I used my left foot for the brake. I alternated between visceral sobs and calmly telling myself, you’re ok, you’re ok, you’re ok. I started worrying more and more, pleading and praying it wasn’t something serious. I parked in the garage, stepped out with my left foot then gingerly put my right foot to the ground. Immediately a horrific pain shot through my foot and up my leg. Limping was no longer an option. I hopped on my left foot to the door inside and crawled up the stairs. I immediately hopped to the refrigerator and got ice for my foot and sat down on the couch. I took my shoe off, put the ice pack on my foot and called my sister for help.
She came over and I explained what happened. We debated on whether I should go to the ER. My gut was telling me that I needed to go, something dreadful was wrong. It wasn’t just a sprain because it hurt a lot more than any sprain I’d had and swelled so fast. I felt sick.
We went to the ER. Fast forward through all the waiting, x-rays, et cetera, the doctor told me I had a fracture, a Lisfranc injury. I needed to see an orthopedist. I had to ask him to repeat what he said as I was still in shock and couldn’t understand who Liz Frank was. I made a note on all the information they gave me so I could look it up when I got home. They put me in a splint and crutches, gave me a prescription for Vicodin and sent me on my way. The next morning, I set up an appointment with the orthopedist for that Friday, June 14.
While I waiting for my appointment, I obsessively googled Lisfranc injury and was not happy with what I found. Wikipedia told me who Lisfranc was, a doctor in Napoleon’s army, and the American Academy of Orthopaedic Surgeons explained more about the Lisfranc Joint Complex. I found this, which told me this injury happens to approximately 1 in 55,000 persons each year and accounts for fewer than 1 percent of all fractures. Lucky me! My original instincts were right; it was a serious injury. Everything I was reading told me that it was going to be a long road ahead. I kept optimistic; I hoped for the best and prepared for the worst.