HEELCATCHER

Monday started off roughly. Once 8:30am rolled around, I started making phone calls trying to figure out what the next steps would be. I only had two things from St. Peter’s—the name of a doctor (Dr. L) and the phone number to St. Peter’s orthopedic clinic. Neither proved to be helpful.

First, I called the orthopedic clinic. They had no record of a Dr. L and really no idea why I was calling them. They were only open for appointments on Thursdays and were obviously going to be closed the Thursday of that week, Thanksgiving Day. They told me to call an orthopedic group across the street from the hospital which supposedly had a Dr. L.

I called this clinic but they had no doctor by that name. They also did not take my insurance so that avenue was a dead end.

Starting to get frustrated, my wife told me to call St. Peter’s emergency room. I did. The nurse who answered was very helpful and at least gave me the first name of Dr. L. Lou. She also gave me his office number.

I called the doctor and got his receptionist. I was hoping that his office already had my information and were expecting to see me that day. After all, it was an orthopedic resident associated with him that gave me the impression that I was going to be seen on Monday and operated on Tuesday. The receptionist had no record of me and could not believe that a resident would tell me that I could have surgery so quickly.

“Have you had a blood test?”

“Yes. They took my blood at St. Peter’s to get me ready for a potential surgery,” I replied.

“Well, have you had an electrocardiogram?”

“No.”

“Well, all that would have to be done before surgery.”

I was becoming increasingly aware that getting surgery before Thanksgiving was not a high probability and more and more frustrated at the information given to me at the hospital (or rather the lack thereof).

The receptionist did tell me that I could see Dr. L that day. But when I told her my insurance, she said that he did not take it. Another dead end.

Since Lou was out, I decided to try Stu since he seemed to be a more experienced and more acclaimed orthopedic doctor any way. I called his offices but they also did not take my insurance and couldn’t see me for awhile.

Now I was irritated. What seemed like a fairly definite plan—doctor on Monday, surgery on Tuesday—was looking more and more like doctor in a few weeks and surgery who knows when. I was mad at the hospital, my insurance, and my kids. No real reason to be mad at my kids except that I was frustrated and they kept running around the house. Thankfully my wife kept me sane and gave me another avenue to try. She suggested the orthopedic doctor who did her knee surgery a year and a half earlier, Dr. C. At least I knew he took our insurance. And if he couldn’t see me or do Achilles surgery, perhaps someone in his group could.

I called his office and relayed my story. At first, the receptionist did not seem too optimistic but she put me on hold and went and talked to the doctor. In a few moments, she came back and asked if I could be up there at 2pm. I said, “Definitely.”

Before I could see Dr. C., I had to get approval from my primary doctor. Oh, the joys of HMO’s! I called them and thankfully they were accommodating. Thank You, God.

I saw Dr. C at 2pm. He remembered my wife and her surgery and that helped break the ice. He unwrapped my leg and examined my heel. It was the first time I had seen it since the injury. It was swollen now and slightly purple. He performed the Thompson test and felt the back of my heel. “It is completely ruptured.”

Dr. C told me my options and suggested surgery as the best long-term solution. I had already determined this so now the question was when.

“I could do surgery next Tuesday. My schedule is fairly open then. But if you want to get it done quickly, I could add you at the end of the day tomorrow around 5pm.”

I jokingly asked. “You won’t be too tired then, will you?”

“No, I can handle it,” he replied.

“Thank you. I’ll do the surgery tomorrow.”

I was so impressed with the doctor’s willingness to see me and add me to a busy surgery schedule. Though I wasn’t looking forward to the surgery, I was glad it was sooner rather than later. The recovery time is so long for an Achilles injury that I didn’t want to wait too long to get started. Thank You, God, for guiding my steps.

The rest of the day was fairly relaxed. I was nervous about the surgery but I was even more grateful that everything worked out so well. Having my foot unwrapped also felt good. We went out to eat that night at Friendlys. It was where we had planned to go after Jonah’s black belt graduation. I wanted to enjoy this treat with him. The meal was decent; the ice cream was good.

That night I took a good hot shower on my butt which was different but manageable. I could put a little weight on my foot but I didn’t trust it to hold me up so it felt better to sit.

I slept well that night.

I slept fairly well on the couch though I certainly felt groggy in the morning. The crutches and the lame foot were an instant reminder that I was in for a long day. Even a simple trip to the bathroom was a chore. Thankfully I had no real responsibilities for the day and there was plenty of football on TV to occupy my time.

I still had no pain which I was thankful for. An Achilles rupture is only initially painful. After that, it really doesn’t hurt at all (until surgery).

I was also thankful for the timing of it all. Though I certainly wouldn’t have ordered an Achilles rupture for myself, I had to thank God that it happened when it did. The two months prior had been non-stop activity and responsibility. A Senior Saints trip, an apologetics conference, a five-week sermon series, and a men’s retreat were all on my plate. Now the plate was fairly empty. Plus the Thanksgiving holiday time presented a shortened week and some days off.

My only real desire was to get the surgery done before Thanksgiving. I knew this could be a challenge. The only information I had from St. Peter’s was the last name of the doctor, Dr. L.. An internet search revealed a slew of doctors with that last name in New Jersey. Only two in the area were orthopedic surgeons, Lou and Stu. Looking at their profiles online, I was hoping it was Stu. Unfortunately, no place that I called on Saturday was open so I simply had to hope that I could figure it all out quickly on Monday morning.

A day of no responsibility and football on TV was nice, though I felt like a lazy bum when the day was over. My taekwondo instructor came over later in the evening to bring some fresh baked chocolate chip cookies and see how I was doing. That was the best part of the day.