Tears, Fears, and Misconceptions
“In between surgery and this appointment we did some googling,” my surgeon said at my first follow up. He continued, “So we found out a bit more about you and clearly, you don’t have a normal relationship to pain.” During the rest of the appointment he went on to stress the importance of avoiding negative sensations in the area of the incision on my ankle and the peroneal tendons, specifically saying anything that is even a twinge to me is something I need to pay attention to. This was a brief moment of levity amid what has been a really difficult few days.
For whatever reason, I naively assumed that as I progressed through the steps of recovering from surgery that I would feel better and things would get easier. It seems obvious to me now that I was wildly off base, but it doesn’t change the fact that this is how I felt going into the second phase of rehab. The actual truth, is that being in a splint with my ankle completely immobile was simple. Don’t hurt your ankle. Okay, can do.
Now, I’m in a walking boot and attempting to go through a weight bearing progression and introducing a whole bunch of physical therapy exercises to both strengthen muscles around the injured ankle and increase my range of motion. Strapping on the boot for the first time and taking my first, incredibly cautious steps in the clunky footwear, I realized immediately that my previous assumption was not just in error, but actually completely out of touch with reality.
The walking boot provides minimal tactile sensations through my foot. I’m supposed to start with 25% of my body weight which I can estimate using a scale and my crutches. But then I have to go actually walk, which feels totally different to standing still with my foot on the scale. To top it off, the incision still hurts a bit, it is a more shallow pain than overdoing it with my ankle, but these two sensations are rather difficult to discern in the moment especially when it takes so much focus just to get my foot in the stupid boot to land where I want it to while also making sure my crutches are solid and everything else is balanced. Why did I think this would be easier than just laying around with no weight on my leg? Who fucking knows.
So my relationship to pain is abnormal, and for the next month my primary task is to pay attention to how much pain I’m feeling in my ankle while progressing through to full weight bearing walking around in a sensation-less boot. What a fun mission.
Before sitting down to write this I ostensibly meditated for 30 minutes. More accurately, I tried to meditate while sitting in a veritable hurricane of negativity and self pity that buffeted me from all sides in the dark chasm of my mind. I underestimated this whole thing. I underestimated just how inconvenient everything would become. I’m sitting on my porch right now and my glasses are dirty. To go inside and grab a cleaning cloth I need to either commit to hopping on one leg or taking the time to strap on my knee crutch and then hobbling inside only to come back out and take the time to undo all the clips and straps and then awkwardly toss my ass down in a chair again to write.
Still, I think since surgery two weeks ago, I have managed to maintain a mostly positive attitude despite the evidence of this particular assemblage of words. But the realization that the next steps in this process are going to be far more challenging than the last two weeks has thrown me for a bit of a loop. The topography of this particular trial in my life is all new, uncomfortable, painful, and frightening. What if I do too much? What if that pain is bad pain? What if I am stuck in this fucking loop of frustration and confusion forever?
Yeah, unrealistic I know. My surgeon and my physical therapist are both confident and assured that this is all progressing as normal. So practically speaking, I’m in a good physical spot with recovery. But mentally these ups and downs and new experiences are not necessarily treating me kindly and I am struggling to accept the terms dictated to me by reality at this point.


We have our “do scary things” statement… and I think this is one of the scariest things you’ve had to ask yourself to do. Not pushing harder, but trusting the process, paying attention to your body, and letting yourself heal. It may not look like the adventures you’re used to, but it’s every bit as brave, courageous, and part of your unwritten, inspiring journey of adventures. One step at a time. You’ve got an army cheering you on. 🙌🏻🫶🏻🎉
I’m so sorry, even hobbling around will get easier with time. I run (much less than you) and just recovered from an injury (much more minor than yours) and I can say the one silver lining is that you come back remembering why you love to move. This time of year is miserable to run here in FL but since I’ve been unable to for a while, I am so excited just to get back out there and thrilled with however slow I have to go. You will come back rejuvenated in ways you hadn’t considered.