Every year we go camping with 2 of Hubby's good friends and their families. It works out perfectly as we all have 3 kids and they are all very similar in age (less than a week apart in one case). We have a central campground on a lake that we have been meeting up at for about 6 years. The adults and kids alike look forward to this long weekend away.
This year was no different. Last Thursday we packed up, loaded up the boat and headed out for a quick 2 1/2 hour drive. We got to the campsite, set up our tent and got things unloaded and organized. It was one of the girls' 13th birthday, so we grilled and ate some of her favorite things and indulged in some ice cream cake. It was a great start to the weekend. The evening continued as we stoked the fire, consumed some beverages and caught up with each other. The kids went to bed and us adults continued to relax.
Around 1 am I was in need of a trip to the bathroom. Hubby decided to walk along with me. We were on our way back to our campsite and began goofing off with each other. I playfully smacked him in the stomach, he got me back, I went for him and he came back after me. I did a quick little zig zag, dive and duck to avoid him and felt an intense pop in the arch of my foot. The pain was fierce and the ability to put pressure on any part of my foot was completely out of the question. Hubby carried me back to the campsite (which our friends thought was hilarious, until they realized we weren't joking). I took some Ibuprofen and watched it begin to swell. A trip to the ER was talked about, but given the fact that we had all been drinking was out of the question. Around 2:30 I hopped to the tent, propped my foot in just the perfect position and went to sleep.
In the morning, still unable to put any pressure on it, Hubby skipped a morning of golfing with his buddies to take me to a local clinic (we were camping just outside of a town of about 10,000). Unfortunately both the orthopedic doc and podiatrist were gone for the day. I ended up seeing the Orthopedic doctor's Physician's Assistant. He told me I had plantar fascitis (which I already knew as I had been dealing with that on and off for a month or so) and that I just needed to stay off it, ice it and take ibuprofen. He didn't want to order an MRI as I was away from home and should wait until I got back. But only to go see someone if it still hurt. SO NOT HELPFUL!
Hubby's friend was able to get me some crutches to use, which I did all day Friday. I've never had to use crutches before, but now have increased sympathy for those that do. They stink to use! The thought of having to crutch from our campsite to the bathroom almost brought me to tears. As the weekend went on, I ditched the crutches, indulged in ibuprofen, gave my foot lots of rest ice baths, reduced the pain enough that I could hobble using the side of my foot, and used Sassy's bike to get around.
Today, it is still sore, I'm trying to keep off of it as much as possible (which means no running, which bites) it still hurts to put pressure on it, although it is better. I haven't gone back to the doctor now that I am home, for a variety of reasons, but I'm pretty sure that that pop I felt was my fascitis rupturing. The swelling has gone down, some really nice bruises appeared, and have since lightened up a bit, but here's what the bottom of my lovely foot looks like today:
Nope, I won't be getting any foot modeling jobs anytime soon!