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Back to the Good Old Bad Days

Ever since I rolled my bad ankle while playing laser tag at my own birthday party two months ago (Boohoo!) the wellbeing of my peroneal tendons has been uncertain. A couple of doctor visits and an MRI later I now have a few things figured out but the fate of my foot is still a looming question mark. Here are all the gory details.

My First Doctor’s Visit:

Six weeks after my little misstep my ankle was still having issues. A normal sprain usually heals in 2-4 weeks so 6 weeks of persistent troubles didn’t seem regular. My slow recovery and the many eerie similarities between my current situation and my previous tendon tear experience convinced me that it was time to get a doctor’s opinion. My sports medicine specialist, unfortunately, didn’t have any concrete answers for me. He said that the prior damage to my ankle would definitely lengthen my recuperation from a sprain; 3 months of mending wouldn’t be unusual. But he also told me that once a tendon has been torn retears are common. When a tendon has been weakened it’s an easy target for more problems. So? The doc concluded that I may or may not have torn my tendon again. Hmm…not exactly the non-answer I was looking for. He said I could wait it out for another month to see what happens or I could get an MRI and find out exactly what is going on. I chose the MRI and the path of information.

My MRI Results:

The machine used for this MRI, though not as friendly to those fidgety in tight places, produced a much clearer image than the open design one that magnetically photographed my ankle last time. The radiologist reported that my peroneus brevis suffered from advanced tendinosis and my peroneus longus was healed in intervals. Additionally, he noted that there was quite a bit of fluid surrounding my peroneus brevis. I had no idea what all of this meant.

My brace is a longtime frienemy. I hate that it’s become a necessary part of my life again.

My Second Doctor’s Visit:

I made another visit to my doctor after my MRI to decode the results and figure out my next course of action. My doc was great; he spent over half an hour looking at MRI pictures with me and explained everything I was seeing. Thanks to his helpful conversion of medical talk into layman’s terms I think I understand my MRI details. Allow me to interpret for you.

Doc Speak: The peroneus longus is healed in intervals.

English Translation: Your peroneus longus looks better than it did before you had surgery. Your last MRI showed fluid buildup around it and that is no longer there. Go longus!

Doc Speak: The peroneus brevis tendon shows signs of advanced tendinosis.

English Translation: Unlike tendinitis, which is an acute short-term tendon flare-up, tendinosis is a lasting problem involving the tendon’s structure and it takes considerably longer to heal. This particular case of tendinosis is a result of your recent ankle injury and, by the way, you have an associated partial tear in your tendon but it’s not completely ruptured.

Doc Speak: There is fluid retention around the peroneus brevis.

English Translation: Fluid isn’t good. Fluid means your body is hurt and can’t figure out how to heal itself.

Ugh! As my comprehensive translation indicates, my peroneus brevis, the tendon that I had surgery on 4 years ago due to it being torn almost to the point of rupturing, is once again torn. Of all the ridiculous things! Tendon, did I offend you in a previous life or what?

My Course of Action:

According to my newest MRI, the tear in my peroneus brevis this time is worse than its previous one and this tendon is in poorer condition now then it was before my surgery. I find this assessment hard to believe because my tendon was so messed up last time that it was almost beyond repair. However, since the MRI machine I used the first time didn’t give a very sharp image that is hopefully the main reason for this grim report. I’m crossing my fingers.

Another ankle surgery is now a real possibility for me. The recovery from my last one took forever and almost drove me into the funny farm so I’d like to avoid a repeat of that near-insanity if possible. Is there any hope?

My ankle might heal on its own. It will probably take a couple more months for it to get its act together, given its current state, but it could repair itself. The fact that it has slowly been improving over time, instead of plateauing, is a positive indication. If its progress ever levels off that could mean that my body has done all that it can on its own. So far I’m still making headway, thankfully. The fluid surrounding my tendon is a bit of a downer though; it’s a bad sign. It means my body is having a hard time coping. But, even with the fluid, my doctor was optimistic that avoiding surgery may be possible. It all depends on how my foot is doing in about two months.

Until then I have been instructed to massage my ankle meanly to increase blood flow to the area and do strengthening exercises with the elastic band my physical therapist gave me the last time I rode this pony.

I’m wishing for a tendon miracle. (My tendon doesn’t have a very good track record in the miracle department.) I have an appointment scheduled with my surgeon at the end of November but I’m hoping that I’ll get to cancel it. The last thing my questionable stability needs is another trip onto the operating table. Physical activity is one of the few things that stands between me and iffy sanity. Take that away and I’ve got some real cuckoo potential. Tendon, please don’t make me go down the lazy road to crazy again.

Rachel September 6, 2012 2 Comments

The Park City Paradox

Every August Jason and I head up to Park City for my chapter of the Society of Cosmetic Chemists’ annual seminar and golf outing. This event takes place at the Hotel Park City and we usually stay in one of their cottage suites while I attend. (We get a great deal so why not.) The cottage suites are definitely snooty with private Jacuzzis, patios, 3 fireplaces, and so forth and so on. Naturally you’d think that my snobbish slumber in their enormous beds, some or the most comfortable beds I’ve ever laid in, would be peaceful and perfect but no, that’s not how my night’s rest at this thing ever goes and therein lies my single grievance about our yearly Park City excursion. This event would almost feel like a retreat if it weren’t for the cruel scheduling. I have a great time but I come home feeling like a zombie in a golf skirt. Allow me to run through the proceedings at this function and explain while I complain.

The view from our cottage was, as always, beautiful.

The first bit of this outing is all about education through presentations. Yippee! Those who know me understand that I am hopelessly curious. I’m happy listening to lectures for hours while furiously scribbling notes so I was predictably engaged by this year’s talks. After a full afternoon of learning about preservatives and how to make nasty sunscreens taste sublime, our entire 50+ group headed downstairs to Ruth’s Chris for an excellent dinner. Jason decided to join us for this meal. He has always been hesitant to come to supper with this crowd even though he’s continually invited and the food at Ruth’s Chris is delicious. I think my particular brand of geek intimidates him a tad because the only circuits we care about are those generated by our evaporimeters but this year either he manned up or the thought of tasty food got the better of him. It turns out he was right to be wary of these chemists though. Our table had a 20 minute discussion about the fragrances used in Fabreze that forced Jason into the realm of cosmetic nerdery at a head-spinning pace. However, a tender fillet and big blob of mashed potatoes seemed to reduce the shock of it all on his system. Our feast wasn’t over until about 8:30 but that still left me and Jason ample time to pull out our books and relax for a few hours, something we are too occupied to do often at home.

Our golfers were numerous. It took nearly 50 carts to seat us all.

This all sounds like a rough experience, right? Lots of excellent food and unwinding with a good read in a fancy hotel room. We scientists have a tough life that is for certain. While this may sound like the lap of luxury, let me assure you that luxury knows no alarm clock. The golfing on the second day of our meeting starts absurdly early and that’s what always gets me. I’m up in Park City. I’m staying in a super nice room with a bed that’s feathery and soft but I never sleep well because I know I have to get up at 5:00 AM or thereabouts. The ease of it all is kind of lost when you wake up in the middle of the night and realize you have to be up for real in an hour.

My golf team was not lucky to have me among them but I did contribute a few good swings to our cause.

Despite my grumblings about its timing, the golfing is surprisingly enjoyable every year. I am a pretty horrendous golfer, make no mistake, but I don’t take myself too seriously so I can still enjoy that which I suck at. The lessons I took last summer and the couple visits Jason and I have made to the driving range this year have definitely helped me play less awfully. I know how to stand correctly now and grip my clubs but I am still a beginner with a capital B. Regardless, I always have fun with whatever team I am placed on and occasionally my shots do end up being useful.

The SCC summer outing in Park City is a strange mix of recreation, learning, leisure, and exhaustion. Instead of being cooped up in the office I get to practice my swing in the sweet sunshine but I don’t get to enjoy my fluffy bed like I would on a real break. It’s being on the brink of a vacation without actually getting all the perks of one that’s the killer. Sometime I’d like to stay at the Hotel Park City when I don’t have to rise before the sun’s even thinking about it. Until then, you can all keep rolling your eyes at my “hard” life.

Rachel August 29, 2012 No Comments

Viva la Vernal

When I was a kid a trip to “Dinosaurland” in Vernal was about the most exciting prospect for a Saturday imaginable. The sculpted dinosaur replicas at the museum there thrilled me as much as if they were originals.

Last weekend we decided to recapture some of that childhood dino magic with a group camping outing to Eastern Utah. Our friends the Bresees, Rowleys, and Ashleys all joined us. Now “camping” in this case shouldn’t conjure up images of a lean-to rigged together in some desolate wilderness 40 miles from anything. No, we weren’t exactly roughing it. We stayed at the Vernal KAO; the Rowleys brought their RV and Jason and I took advantage of the campground’s “cottage.” The cottage was an upgrade from the cabin that the Bresees and Ashleys shared because this baby had a small kitchen area and, most importantly, its own tiny bathroom. The plumbing alone convinced me that the extra cash for the cottage was a worthwhile investment even if that bathroom was so little I could only fit one of my butt cheeks in at a time. With a private restroom, microwave, fridge, stovetop, and TV, our accommodations may sound rather plush but, in my opinion, our plywood bed was practically worse than sleeping on the ground and definitely uncomfortable enough to justify that liberal camping classification.

Our cottage was basically a trailer. Its wheels were visible through the lattice around its base.
The stones of Red Fleet were stamped with 200 million-year-old remnants of a dino block party.

Our trip was packed with excitement, education, and educational excitement but also chaotic disorganization. Our group was a bit too large and kid-laden for schedules and rendezvous to really work, which made our museum expeditions a little tricky. Still, unraveling the ancient mysteries of this corner of Utah kept me generally satisfied with my situation even if our crew had to make more bathroom stops than a bus full of prune eating contest winners.

Impersonating our prehistoric predecessors, including the Utahraptor, required lots of teeth and vicious fingers.

Friday night we went to Red Fleet Reservoir with the Bresees to check out the trackway: hundreds of dinosaur footprints embedded in the sandstone near one area of the shore. Hunting around on the hillside for tracks was quite entertaining. It made me feel a bit like a paleontologist detective. (Note to self: you should never consider a career in paleontology. You can’t even tell the difference between a rock and an old acorn.)

I'm a squeaker so trying to be a squawker wasn't too difficult for me.
The quarry wall at Dinosaur National Monument was so unbelievably packed with fossils that it was hard for my brain to process it as reality.

Our Saturday was also filled with prehistoric intrigue. We started out at the Utah Field House of Natural History Museum. This is the place that dazzled me when I was a youngster. The museum had moved into a much nicer and bigger building since I’d last been there but they still had their life-size dino replicas outside, much to the delight of my youngish heart.

Here's most of our bulky group plus a bulky stegosaurus.

Next we were off to Dinosaur National Monument to check out their quarry wall filled with over 1,600 bones from hundreds of dinosaurs. Awesome! A hot hike on the Fossil Discovery Trail later we were more than ready to hit the murky waters of Steinaker Reservoir. Steinaker is located just a few miles out of Vernal and is touted for its nice sandy beaches. Despite optimistic accounts, we found more mud than sand on those shores but that didn’t stop us from jumping in. The kids quickly transformed themselves into filthy creatures and the adults willingly waded through sticky muck in order to hold cannonball contests off a floating platform. After all, a little lake slime never hurt anyone, at least not anyone outside a B-grade horror movie.

The kids were rather happy with the quantity of high quality mud they found at the reservoir.
The two Rowley boys, Milo and Silas, wasted no time sheathing themselves in a protective mud coating at Steinaker.

That evening our “camping” status compelled us to roast wieners and marshmallows around a roaring fire. Dang that camping for having such stringent terms of service! It was a yummy dinner and one of the highlights of the weekend. Chatting around flames + combusting marshmallows = one of life’s essential pyro delights.

No one can resist a good wiener roast, except maybe a self-preserving stick.

Hooray for Vernal! After a twenty-year absence, my dino buddies and I were able to get reacquainted. Our weekend was occasionally eye roll worthy but all in all we had a pretty great stay. In another 200 million years we’ll have to do it again.

Rachel August 24, 2012 1 Comment
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