My AFO is Punk AF
Earlier this week I picked up my custom ankle foot orthosis (AFO). It’s not miraculously making me walk like I used to because I was bedridden for too long. But it has already made a huge difference in how much less energy I spend trying to get around.
When I had the appointment Wednesday to pick it up and get final adjustments, I did a few steps on the parallel bars at the prosthetics and orthotics place.
I stood up and went right down. My muscles are weak, kids. I didn’t fall because Dan and Bob* were like, “Oh no you don’t.” But darn it if I didn’t try to kiss the floor tiles.
(I’m already really bruised from a fall while brushing my teeth last weekend. Grrrr.)
I want so desperately to take a few steps without a spotter, but I’m not there…YET! I didn’t get this way overnight, and I can’t expect to un-get this way overnight. But damn I want to just take off so bad. I had a dream last night I was walking around like BEFORE, and I exclaimed “Look at me!”
That’s significant because I do not want anyone to look at me.
Bob went to get a gait belt or something and was like “Ope. She’s going,” as I tried to get out of my wheelchair.
To be blunt: I hate my wheelchair. It’s a transport chair, so it’s not meant for long-term sitting, and sitting in it for anything over five minutes is uncomfortable as fuck.
It’s fairly heavy, awkward to push, and confining in a way that restricts my movements. Being in it fuels my anxiety. I just absolutely, positively hate it. Plus, needing someone to load it in the car and push me around doesn’t exactly indulge my mile-wide independent streak.
But even lying in bed with the AFO on is unlocking the muscle spasm that makes a transport chair a necessity. I am so thrilled!
This morning and yesterday I was able to walk to the bathroom with a much more efficient gait. And I can flex my foot on my own for a bit first thing in the morning.
I know to the uninitiated it might not sound like much, but to me and those who know me, it’s a big deal. I’m so excited I told Mom this morning that my goal is to take a walk this Fall by myself.
I’m fine if it’s just a super short jaunt around the cul-de-sac and mobility aids are required. Doing it on my own is what I want most.
“So how did you get into this line of work?” Dan asked Bob.
Bob explained to us that his degree is in engineering and he did some volunteer work that got him involved in the field of prosthetics and orthotics.
Good people show up everywhere if you’re looking, and I am so grateful because good people are an anxious thought’s kryptonite.
The brace itself helps me handle anxiety too, because my drop foot and anxiety are the codependentest things that ever codependented. When my foot is in flexion, my whole body aligns and then my brain goes, “Oh, this feels nice. We don’t have panic attacks with unspasmed muscles. Let’s chill.”
I was able to do a few minutes on the recumbent exercise bike yesterday, which I’m hopeful will strengthen my knees enough I can be kissed by a hottie celeb and not go down.
HYPOTHETICALLY. Chill y’all.
I’m already sitting in a much more controlled descent instead of just plopping into the recliner.
Moral of the story: if you are hesitant about getting an AFO, I will gladly knock some sense into you. Or you could just re-read this post.