Fankle, the Hot Doc, and my love life

I went to Q and Coach Kara's Ortho recommendation today ~ Hot Doc.

Hot Doc is nice looking, don't get me wrong, but I was either so distracted by everything going on around me, or his way of speaking to me that made me feel like a 9 year old, eliminated my urge to swoon or drool.  Again, don't get me wrong, definitely worthy of the name Hot Doc, just... yea, I'm not going to write a poem in honor of his hotness just yet.

After the usual junk of waiting 45 minutes past my appointment time, to go get Xrays (yes, more, because they're free right?  Oh, no?  yea...), and then more waiting to see him, the Hot Doc arrived.  We visited, got some history about my addiction running, asked how many kids I have, he had me jump on one foot, he gripped me firmly by the hips and squeezed (NO idea what for, but... hey, I can appreciate that the view was at least nice from where I was standing, and I'm glad I've lost those 5 pounds because my hip bones are at least FINDABLE these days)...  where was I?  Oh, yea, more hopping... and then sit here... so he's asking where is the pain?

Is it here?

No, not there.  It's here.

He nods, runs his hand up my ankle, and pressed on my Tibia about 2 inches NORTH of the point where I associated the ankle/foot pain... and I said, "Firetruck" on a gasp.

no, no I didn't.  almost though.  there are letters in there that line up with what I did utter aloud.

But that's ok, because Hot Doc wasn't fazed at all.  He rolled his chair back, still holding my foot, looks me in the eye, shakes his head and says, "Yea.... sh*t." ~sigh~ "So this isn't an ankle sprain my friend.  This is what I call a stress reaction.  I don't argue that you rolled your ankle, but you didn't tear the ligament, you've damaged the bone.  You're so close to a stress fracture... but it's OK, we've caught it.  I mean, I could to do a bone scan to be sure but why don't we just treat it as though that's what it is instead of doing a very expensive test."

OK.  Sounds great.... no, no it doesn't.

He carefully looked me in the eye, with all the patience of an adult speaking to a very slow child, and outlined my new fitness routine.  And how I could do what he said, or I could not heal.  So.

I'm still allowed to run, he "doesn't think it would be a good idea to take a Heroin addict off her Heroin cold turkey", but there are RULES, OK?  And "just because it doesn't hurt today, doesn't mean you get to jump from 4 to 6 to 16 miles in three weeks".  (both, actual quotes)

My new plan includes running a few days a week.  No more than 4 miles at a time.  If there's no pain I can add milage in 2 -3 weeks.  A half a mile at a time.

There is good news though...  I can ride OC (Orange Crush) to my hearts content and swim in the pool for 29 hours a week if I can stand it.  So there you go.  OH, but no "walking" right now.  So my dogs have just been put on a diet.

I've decided, in the 8 hours I've had to mull it over, that this is probably the best thing that could have come out of this, and I should be SO HAPPY it's not worse.  As I imagine my lean swimmer's body ~ all toned from my Ab Gauntlet challenge ~ out on a long board ~ surfing off the OBX ~ in a hot new swimsuit ~ I'm thinking this could be Oh-KAY.

It's ALL GOOD, right?

Cardio, here I come.  Non-Impact doubles allowed.  (Can I get a Hell Yea?).

Swimming is my new BFF
OC is my new LOVER
Running is my OLD FLAME
and Ab Ripper X Tony?  Well, hello!  Tony is my FRIEND with BENEFITS!