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Broström procedure, or everything you wanted to know about ankle surgery but were afraid to ask.

manifestos October 10, 2019
Read Time5 Minute, 3 Second

Good morning, in less than 5 hours, I will be having my third ankle surgery in under 3 years. Whereas I don’t think that is something to be celebrated, I do think that there is information that I can share about the procedure. Especially if you are one of my friends that are sitting there thinking “wtf is wrong with her and why does she keep having surgeries?”

This morning, I am having an Open Broström procedure on my left ankle. We do not yet know if it will be a repair or a graft- they won’t know that information until I’m taking a really good anesthesia nap to figure that out. It’s almost like a game show- will she or won’t she wake up splinted?

Still tracking with me? The Broström operation is a repair of ligaments on the lateral ankle. It is designed to address ankle instability. More importantly, it is primarily used to repair the anterior talofibular ligament (ATFL) in the ankle. I mean, there is an actual surgery now to correct instability- Not mental, but at least physical 🙂 I kid, I kid.

As this is my third round with this- first in 2016, with a Modified Broström on my right, and then a repair/revision Broström on my right in May. Today we are doing an Open Brostrom on my left to correct 24 years of wear and tear. If I were being completely honest, I would say a “lifetime” of wear and tear.

Why am I writing about the Broström procedure? Because there is incredibly limited content online that isn’t clinical about this and I would like my experiences to help someone.

The why:

We are doing this surgery because I’ve failed at nonsurgical ankle repair options- we’ve tried PT, Boot, rest, ice, reduction in weight-bearing- to no avail.

The who:

I’m working with a tremendous surgeon team at Plano Orthopedics– both Dr. Crates and his PA Jackie have been with me since the beginning of this journey and I trust their guidance explicitly. They are not cut first practitioners but they will flag when it’s time to move past traditional therapeutic methods and repair.

What life will be like for me for the next 4-6 weeks after the Broström procedure:

First things first, and I can’t stress this enough- the first 7-10 days of life after the Broström procedure is rough. There is very little information about this online, but I’m here to tell you, it sucks, but you can and will get through it.

Everyone has a different variation of the procedure but here are my takeaways (PLEASE USE THE PROTOCOL THAT YOUR DOCTOR PRESCRIBES FOR YOU- these are my experiences.)

  1. Assuming that this is a repair and not a graft, I will be weight-bearing today. Not walk around the block, but I will be able to get myself to the bathroom and back.
  2. For me, this is an outpatient surgery. I will be home this afternoon, assuming no issues.
  3. It’s all about that ice, ice baby. Ice will be your best friend. Keep elevated and ice as much as you can tolerate. It’s all fun and games until after the meds wear off and keeping the swelling down is critical.
  4. Don’t be a martyr- stay in front of the pain. I know, I know, pain meds are the devil. That doesn’t matter- what sucks more is uncontrolled pain when you literally have a cut open ankle. Stay on top of the meds that your surgical team prescribes. I don’t do well with a lot of the normal paid meds, so I will be on good, ole-fashioned Morphine for a few days and then step down to Tramadol.
  5. Did I say “keep the ice going?” You can get an ice machine, use ice packs and/or frozen veggies. I’ve done all three. I truly have a love/hate relationship with ice- I hate the way it feels, but I love the way it works.
  6. Stay in your boot. Yes, the doctor will put you in a splint or boot (Depending on if you are having a repair or graft replacement) and LEAVE IT ON. Sure it sucks to sleep in a boot, but it’s there to protect you. Don’t be me and try to sneak out of it. It SUCKS.
  7. Stock up on cozy clothes that will go over the boot. I have found that shorts plus t-shirts or pj’s that are shorts make life easier for the first week or so.
  8. Buy a shower chair. Just get over yourself and do it. It makes life easy. You will want a shower and this is a safe way to do it. Unless you know, you like to be held upright, butt naked with someone helping you, then go for it.
  9. Speaking of showers- buy Glad Press & Seal and wrap, wrap, wrap that bandage up. It does create a mostly waterproof seal that will let you hose yourself down.
  10. Force yourself to eat with the meds- pb&j’s are my go to’s. And Goldfish Crackers. Dear Sweet Baby Happiness, Goldfish crackers have been my salvation for the past two surgeries and today they are at my bedside for when I get home this afternoon. They are literally the snack that smiles back and you need smiles when you are getting through with this. (not sponsored, but my love of the Goldfish is real.)
  11. Buy ProBiotics and take them. Just do it. Between the pain meds, antibiotics and sitting on your butt, your gut will thank you.
  12. Be patient with yourself. You aren’t going to wake up the day after and feel awesome, but you will eventually feel better.
  13. Don’t be afraid to talk to your surgical team if you have any questions. I am lucky that my team at POSMC has a great communication system and i can shoot off email questions at any time.

I’m going to keep this conversation going- stay tuned for information about “life post Broström procedure.”

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the journey of a life long clutz

manifestos October 10, 2019
Read Time3 Minute, 40 Second

I’m pretty sure that my first Clutzy move was at the age of 3. I fell walking. Not running. Not goofing around. You know, walking on the floor with saddle shoes on. I was three. I broke my arm. By walking. It really did set the stage for a life long journey of hurt.

The injuries have been many and varied. Cracking my head open on a tampon machine. Slamming my hand shut in a car door. Falling. Tripping. Breaking fingers, arms, needing stitches, bandages, ice, you name it.

My freshman year of college was exceptionally graceful. On my way to class, I fell down a flight of stairs and f’d up my left ankle. Badly. I remember the ER doc saying “oh, how i wish you could have just broken it, it would have healed better.” Sigh. I continued to fall and sprain and re-sprain the very tired left ankle. The ground and I are just not friends. At all. I’ve walked off a curb in front of my new house and sprained my ankle. I’ve been walking down 5th Street in Austin when the street jumped up and tackled me. Not really, but I like that version better.

In 2015, I had a sinus infection. I was awake all night, hopped up on decongestants and steroids. I was cleaning the house when I stepped on a dog bone and subsequently tore the ligament of my right ankle.

In October of 2016, I had a Modified Brostrom surgery to repair the right ankle. It sucked. Sucked bigly. The injury sucked. The recovery sucked, but I did it. I went through it. PS- I was pretty old school with my ice back then 🙂

In March of 2019, I fell. I retore the ligament on my right ankle. I knew within 5 minutes that I had trashed my ankle. You just know these things when you are a professional clutz. I called my parents and said “Well, this is bad.” It was suggested that I was being dramatic and to go home and ice it. I knew. I knew.

In May of 2019, I had an Open Brostrom repair on the right ankle. (We got a lot more high tech this time around- ice machine, compression socks, the whole shebang.)

Ya, I kinda called that one. Maybe an “i told you so” would be appropriate here.

Flash forward to July. I busted my ass to get through rehab on the right ankle. I did all of the work in PT and then continued to do the work at home. I wanted to be strong and be done with all of the things. I wanted to get back to Pilates. I wanted to get healthy, get strong and MOVE.

On July 6th, as I was going down some 150 stairs at the Hotel, I took a video of my ankle. I was going to send it to my surgeon to say “LOOK HOW INCREDIBLE THIS LOOKS.”

Well, I sent the video and I didn’t get a response. To quote Michelle Tanner, “how rude.”

Another few weeks later, I go into what I thought was going to be my final post-op visit with my surgical team. I walk in all confident. Akin to Beyonce and her drumline. I was feeling GOOD. I was a little surprised to see how many of the doctor’s team was in the room for a simple post-op clearance appointment. Remember that video I sent? Ya.

Turns out my right ankle was indeed strong. My left? Not so much.

Which brings me to right now.

In 24 hours, I will be heading to my third ankle surgery. This time to repair the left that I beat to hell over the course of my 42 years. Multiple trips, falls, and sprains were nothing compared to forcing a weak ankle to be the primary for multiple years while the right was in the boot. I literally wore myself out. So tomorrow, I have to do this crap all over again. I’m ready. I have Goldfish crackers, I have my scooter, the boot, the brace, the ice machine and the shower chair. Somewhere along the way, I’ve lost my dignity, but ya, I’ll be good to go in 6-8 weeks.

I hope.

By January, I will be oh, so bionic.

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the only certain thing in life is that something/everything will change

manifestos August 24, 2019
Read Time2 Minute, 5 Second

I’ve been on the road a fair bit this summer, both for work and for me. I’m incredibly lucky that the work I do requires only an internet connection to do my job. And a computer, but obviously, that was implied.

Last week, I had the opportunity to run up to Mackinac Island again. The is part of my story. Can’t really fully articulate, but from the time I was a kid, this place has been my happy place. It’s also been my medium place and my super sad place.

I fell in love on this island. I made incredible friends on this island. I worked my ass off on this island. Ok, I drank my ass off too, but that’s neither here nor there.

This past week, I got to show lifelong friend parts of the island that I love. On Sunday night, we had a lovely dinner and were walking through the Grand Hotel. I was showing her little things here and there, and I paused by this ancient desk outside of the main dining room. The desk is a standing desk, with a big scratched top that raises to hide things inside the desk. I used to stand outside of that desk three times a day- taking and selling tickets for various meals.

I touched the desk and was immediately thrown back to 1997, a time long ago. I had a ton of friends, was optimistic about life and was in the early stages of falling in love. Life was pretty incredible as it could be for a 20-year-old dumbass. That desk. Oh, that desk.

As one must do, I left the island to head back to reality. This time it was a little different. I’m older now. More cynical. More wary of everything and everyone. I left the island this time just me, as I am today. I left behind this time some of my stories and memories. They are better there than floating around my head.

Life changes. Things change. Places evolve. People move on. Boy, some people move on more than others. My circle has changed since those early days. Some have left, some have been pushed out. Others, I still hold onto dearly for the friendships as they are today.

This morning, as I lay in bed writing this, I raise my cup of tea to those who helped build the memories, but even more, I offer cheers that are still here today. Because they want to be.

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hunger

manifestos August 7, 2019
Read Time1 Minute, 40 Second

In typical Kate fashion, I woke up starving this morning. Pretty sure it’s all in my head, but there is nothing I can do about the hunger in my belly. I’m on a clear liquids diet today in preparation for some tests tomorrow. Of course, I’m hungry. That’s what I do. I want the things I can’t have. Typical me.

Truthfully, I rarely eat breakfast, so I’m chuckling at myself this morning. My brain knows I can’t have breakfast so therefore it’s telling me “dude, you really want breakfast.” Yes, my brain refers to me as “dude.” Doesn’t yours?

I’m going to keep pretty busy today to avoid the desire to binge/graze/eat all of the foods. I actually am excited about a 36 hour fast (says no one ever.)

I’m excited to get to the roots of my GI issues and maybe figure out why I can’t really drink wine anymore without burning firelike feels in my esophagus.

It makes for a great date- “darling, hand me a bottle of tums please.”

(Imagine me rolling my eyes.)

Speaking of dates, I’ve not been on a good one in a while. I had signed up for Bumble a month ago, and I am blown away by how many men are out there that really like taking photos of themselves in bathrooms. I’ll take a car selfie (yes, me, the Queen of Car Selfies), before I see one more toilet in the back of a selfie. Nothing says “ladies, I’m single and ready to mingle” than seeing a messy sink and toilet in the back of a photo.

Truthfully, I was asked out on a date last week. I was asked out on a date by a guy that was actually married, but he liked to go to dinner with ladies and go home to his wife.

Wait, what?

I can’t.

Not even for a free dinner.

Crap, now I’m thinking about food again.

Happy Wednesday.

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time suck, social style

manifestos August 5, 2019
Read Time1 Minute, 20 Second

hi.

It’s me.

The one, about a month ago, who declared to the world that she was going to do a better job blogging.

Well, I mean, it’s not been quite a month, so I’ve got that going for me.

Ever since I started my book, I’ve written about 10k words. Yes, I am measuring.

Ever since I got home from Michigan, my life went a little cattywampus. (whoa, that word looks insane while typed.)

It could perhaps be said I’ve not been up on my time management. That would be a true statement.

Yesterday, I sat down and thought about what I want to accomplish in the next 90 days. NOWHERE on that list was “spend countless hours scrolling through Instagram”, but, there it is. I spend way too much time socially scrolling. I could totally bullshit and say that it’s work-related, but it’s not. Not even close. My Instagram, my problem.

So, this morning, I deleted the app from my phone. This serves a two-fold purpose, 1.) to cut down on the excessive time that i spend scrolling aimlessly, and 2) stop buying shit that i see in IG ads. I am the perfect audience to target- single, great income, blah blah blah..

I don’t know how long I will keep it deleted. On Friday, I put a “time limit,” on IG through my phone and yet, I blew past it each day (Friday included.)

So, here we go. One less time waster. One less time sucker. One less way for me to compare my life with others.

Happy Monday- be awesome, ok?

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That Single Person You Know

manifestos October 7, 2018
Read Time1 Minute, 16 Second

You know your single friend? I know you all have a token single friend.
You know that one that you think should have all the extra time in the world since you know, they are single?
See, here’s the thing that a lot of people don’t realize, or have forgotten.
 
Your single friend takes care of everything. I mean, literally everything.
 
Your single friend is solely responsible for all financial things- taxes, bills, budget, etc.
 
Your single friend is the only one who is there to take care of all things house.
 
Your single friend is the shopper, the cleaner, the fixer, the errand runner, the appointment setter, the car maintenance person, etc.
 
If something has to be done, that one person is doing the thing.
 
Even if you feel that you do all of the work at your home, my guess is that your partner probably does a whole bunch too.
 
Next time you snark at your single friend for staying home to take care of something house related, or frankly life-related- give them a little slack.
There are many levels of single- single, no partner, but close family. Single, dating, but live in different households. Single, no partner, no family around.
There’s a lot of life out there that doesn’t look like yours. Next time you start to give a single friend shit for not being able to do something, instead give them a high five and tell them that you are proud of them for tackling all of the things.
 



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