Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Fanklestein

(This is my third post in My Fankle Journey.)

I was anxious the night before I went in for my posterior tibial tendon surgery. To combat my anxiety, I prayed a lot! :) I prayed for good mental health and my body's efficient and safe healing. I prayed for my podiatrist, that he would be capable in every way and do a phenomenal job for my ankle. (Hey, I might as well go all-out in my prayer requests! Ha ha.) I prayed for the anesthesiologist that he/she would give me the correct dosing and that I wouldn't have any negative effects from the anesthesia. I prayed for the nurses that they would be able to assist in every way my doctors needed. I especially prayed that my body would stay infection free!

You might chuckle at all of my worries, but I had a brother-in-law who recently became a below-the-knee amputee due to a life-threatening infection in his foot. He doesn't have diabetes, it was just a random, terrible infection that didn't respond to IV antibiotics. His antibiotic-resistant infection spread so quickly that they had no choice but to amputate. I honestly can't imagine the trauma my brother-in-law went through—it brings tears to my eyes! And I certainly didn't want any complications anywhere near his unbelievable/serious issues. Thus, I prayed!

*Speaking of prayer, I highly recommend watching War Room. I loved it so much that I bought it on Blu-ray the very next day! (By the way, no one is asking me or compensating me in any way to write my happy feelings about War Room. I'm sharing it with you because it's honestly one of my favorite movies!)

Following my podiatrist's orders, I drank a lot of water before midnight. I got my outfit ready for the next morning and took a shower. I tried my best to stay calm, but my mind raced as I thought about everything that was about to happen in 12 short hours. I didn't have a problem going to sleep, but I definitely had a problem staying asleep. All of the water I drank kept me returning to the bathroom throughout the night—it was awful! As I think back about it now, my podiatrist's advice for me to drink as much water as I could probably wasn't the best strategy! I mean, I know my podiatrist was just trying to have my veins nice and fat for the benefit of the nurse giving me an IV, but not sleeping well the night before an important surgery probably isn't the best idea for a good recovery.

I awoke on time and took another shower, washed my hair, dressed, brushed my teeth and put on makeup. I blow-dried my hair without gel because I knew it would be a longer time-frame than normal before I could wash my hair again, so I wanted it squeaky clean and fluffy! :)

Greg slept in a little bit that morning, but he was totally ready by the time we had to leave. That's one of Greg's wonderful traits: he can always be counted on to be on time! (It's also a little frustrating when I want to be a little late! Ha ha.) I was happy he was able to sleep in because he works so hard and doesn't get enough sleep. :) I double checked my list of things I needed to bring to my surgery and wrote a little love note to my children. I also made Greg take a photo of me standing on both of my feet before we left. It may seem silly, but I wanted to document my "before gimpy" self. :)

Let's do this thing!
I held Greg's hand as we drove to the surgical center. The sun was shining so brightly, and the sky was a lovely shade of blue with puffy clouds! I was happy it was a beautiful day. For a minute, the smiling sun and having my Gregor drive me around almost made me forget that I was having surgery within the hour. As we neared the surgical center, the van in the right lane behind us wouldn't let us merge over. It was a scary moment thinking we almost got in a wreck! Even worse, the man in the fat white van shouted a string of obscenities as he drove past us! I was truly embarrassed for him.

Thankfully, Greg got us to the surgical center safely, dropped me off, and parked the car. I walked in the front door wondering how it would go—especially since we were there 15 minutes early. Yet I'm glad we arrived early, for the registration receptionist got me started filling out paperwork. Suddenly, Greg was standing next to me, which I enjoyed greatly! Yeah, Greg has a habit of doing that. :)

Everything was fine until the receptionist asked me if I had an advance directive? I looked at Greg and was like, "What? I don't have one of those!" but she didn't worry about it and just checked the box that I didn't have one. Greg quickly said, "Do everything you can to save her." My mind started racing, thinking about the fact that I was about to be the star of a medical procedure where the doctors and nurses actually needed to know what I wanted them to do if I was near death, or if I were to actually die! I thought to myself, "I've seen too many Grey's Anatomy episodes! I'm sure I'll be fine!" Ha ha.

I took my unfinished paperwork and we went and sat down. As I scanned the room of chairs, looking for a place to sit, I decided that the surgical center really needed to reupholster their chairs because they were outdated. Even though the fabric looked new and nice, the design was highly distracting and somewhat uncomfortable to look at. Yet in that moment, I wondered if my dislike of the fabric had more to do with my nerves than the actual style? As I've rethought about the effect those chairs had on me, I'm resolute in my opinion: they either need to purchase new chairs, or recover the ones they have! Ha ha. Either way, their surgical waiting room needs to help create a calming effect, and it all begins with the style of their interior design! :)

I thought I would have time to finish filling out my paperwork, but my name was called shortly after we sat down. The admitting nurse took us into a room and took my vitals. My blood pressure was really low: 93/66! She was a little concerned and asked, "Is your blood pressure always this low?" I replied that I have low blood pressure anyway, but added that I was also really hungry and drank a lot of water the night before—meaning that my sodium levels were probably really low, thus the low blood pressure. Greg said, "Just make sure you use the paddles on her if needed!" That got a laugh out of our demure nurse! My Charming Greg has quite the happy effect on older ladies! Ha ha. She took notes about my medical history and said I could keep filling out my paperwork in the next room. Then she put my admittance bracelet on and added a sticker with "Sulfa" printed on it—to make everyone aware of my allergy. I'm grateful they're so careful with their patients!

We were then shuttled to another area of the surgical center to weigh me and do a urine test. I was happy that I totally had my weight listed exactly right on my paperwork! I know that's silly, but it's important to tell the truth—even when it's about something as mundane as our weight! :) (Plus, I was happy I hadn't gained any weight since my yearly physical.) I was then taken to their pre-op area and told to change my clothes and lay on the gurney.

After I changed clothes, the nurse started my IV with fluids and antibiotics. She asked if I was nervous, and I replied, "A little." She said, "Your palms are a little sweaty." I said, "Yeah, my palms sweat when I'm nervous...I come from a long line of sweaty palms!" Ha ha. Relieved, she said, "Oh that's good to know. I was worried I had terrified you!" I said, "Nope! I'm good."

Yet the IV did not feel good in the least. I'd forgotten just how much they hurt to put in because I haven't had one in 12 years—since my youngest baby was born. I laid back on the pillow because I was so tired from my night of visiting the bathroom every two hours! I tried to be chill even though I was still nervous. Greg sat in the chair next to me and we chatted. We couldn't help but listen to the other pre-op patients' conversations in the curtain-rooms next to us. One lady was getting cataract surgery. It was fascinating listening to her kind and patient doctor explain how her surgery would go. After listening to his explanation, I have zero worries about cataract surgery—if I ever have to have it in the far-future!

This was taken before my podiatrist came in to chat with us. Greg made me take two photos because he said I look ill in the first one! Ha ha. But hey, I was very sleepy!
My podiatrist finally came in with his surgical notes of my chart. (I have no idea if that's what it's called, but it sounds good! Ha ha.) We chatted for a minute and then he examined my foot. He put a sharpie smiley face on the top of my arch, then asked me to point out where my tendon hurt. After we came to an agreement of the location of my pain, he drew a line right next to my ankle bone that resembled a slight smile. While I instantly and semi-nervously thought, "Oh my goodness, he's going to cut my foot open right on that line!" I was simultaneously happy knowing that my ankle would have a "smile" on it for the rest of my mortal life! Ha ha.

My podiatrist then explained how the surgery would go and what to do during my recovery. Greg and I then played the waiting game. It seemed to take forever before it was my turn for surgery—even though I have no idea how long it actually was! Ha ha. Just when I was getting antsy, my number was up!

The anesthesiologist came in and prepped me for what was about to happen, injected my IV line with anesthesia, and the surgical nurse began rolling me out of my room and down the hall. It was really fun when they spun my gurney around in a circle to get my head facing the right direction. I didn't say this out loud, but inside my mind I was like, "WHEE!" and I'm pretty sure that was the anesthesia talking. Ha ha. They put my gurney next to the surgical table, helped me transfer, and I laid down. The last thing I remember is them talking to me as they adjusted my gown and situated my body in the correct position.

Because I'm utterly fascinated with all-things medical, I love knowing how quickly the anesthesia took effect on my body. I'm not exaggerating when I say that it took probably only two minutes—if that—before I was completely knocked out from the IV anesthesia! And even more fascinating is the fact that they said they weren't even giving me full anesthesia. I've always thought that medication really affects me—I can get by on smaller doses than most people—and I think this is proof of my theory being correct!

The next thing I remember is being in a dim room with high ceilings and Greg standing on the right side of my bed. I vaguely remember someone walking out of the curtains of my "room," but it's a fuzzy memory. I also remember the recovery nurse talking to me and fiddling with my IV.


I told Greg of my experience being awake before surgery, and then suddenly being completely "out" after I transferred to the surgical table. Greg informed me that I already told him that and I was like, "What?! Whoa! I have no memory of ever telling you that!" He laughed and blamed it on the anesthesia.

The nurse asked me if I needed anything, or if I wanted a snack, but I said no. She came back later and asked if I was ready to leave, or not yet? I told her not yet, and that I was cold. She brought me the warmest heated blanket and wrapped it around my head, shoulders, and upper body. It was absolutely heavenly! I think we should create "warm blanket therapy" for children and people struggling in life. Maybe it sounds too simple, but I think it would help anyone who's struggling to calm down! :)

See how peaceful I am?! :)
A little while later, I was feeling more awake and not as cold. I finally asked for some saltine crackers to go with my water. Greg did a great job feeding and watering me (ha ha) and we chatted for a little bit. I asked him what my podiatrist said about the surgery. Greg explained that Dr._____ had already come in and I had actually talked with him! Greg said my podiatrist put his hand on my shoulder, asked how I was doing, and proceeded to tell us how my surgery went. Apparently, I said, "Thank you so much, I appreciate it!" HA! I was like, "Whoa, what?! I have ZERO recollection of talking with him at all!" But as I really thought hard about my experience in that recovery room, I did remember seeing my podiatrist walk out of the curtains—I just didn't remember anything before that.

While Greg says I was completely fine and appropriate with all of my actions and words after coming out of surgery, it totally freaks me out knowing that I was actually acting "coherent": talking, moving, and interacting with others, and I have no memory of any such actions! And that, my friends, is precisely why I will never, ever do drugs or drink alcohol—even if I wasn't brought up as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and taught to obey the Word of Wisdom! I simply never want to be out of control of my mind/body! :)

The results of my surgery are this: my tendon had about a one-and-a-half inch linear tear in it that my podiatrist successfully repaired. Yay! Craziest thing is, I was in surgery for only 26 minutes—Greg timed me! Ha ha. I'm surprised my tendon repair went so quickly, for I thought I would be in there for at least 45 minutes, if not longer! I'm hoping that means my podiatrist is a rock-star surgeon and my type of surgery is like a walk in the park for him! :)

After about an hour in the post-op recovery room, I finally felt good enough to go home. I got dressed and the nurse helped me try and fit my Fankle into my new walking boot. It was ridiculously difficult trying to get my foot to bend enough, so we put the boot's Velcro straps together pretty loosely. The nurse explained about my recovery again and what to expect. I listened, and I can kind of remember what she said, but it's pretty blurry. Thus, I'm really grateful Greg was there and taking notes in his wonderful brain for me! I had to ask him more than once to remind me of their instructions!

The recovery nurse and Greg helped me into the wheelchair and we headed down the hallway. My nurse stopped driving me for a minute and gave me a little stuffed bear in a t-shirt with the name of the surgical center on it. She said, "You're not too old for a teddy bear, are you?!" I happily said, "Nope!" Besides, who am I to turn down a $3,500 bear?! Ha ha. Yeah, surgery is expensive! I'm beyond grateful our medical insurance deductible had already been met this year because there's no way we could have afforded my surgery otherwise. I shudder at the thought of what we would have done because even after our insurance paid its portion, my surgery was still very expensive and we only had to pay 20% of the allowable charges (that I listed previously)!

When we were in the surgical center's waiting room again, my nurse asked if I wanted a snack for the road. I said, "Sure! I'll have a brown-sugar Pop Tart!" I gave it to my youngest son because I'm not too hot for Pop Tarts. Ha ha.

As we went out into the parking lot, I was so happy to see sunshine and sprinkler raindrops on the pine trees! There really is something healing about nature—whether you're in the mountains, or the trees are brought into the city, the calming effect is the same. :) Greg helped me into the car and we said goodbye to my kind nurse. She is good at her job; I'm positive she's found her calling in life!

On our way home, Greg decided to pick up his new suit (by the awesome Alain Dupetit) from the tailor shop—he had his pants cuffed. (Again, my enthusiasm for Alain Dupetit is genuine! Nobody is paying me to recommend them!) We then stopped for a fresh strawberry slush—they are unbelievably divine! Lastly, we stopped at the grocery store and picked up milk, and ice for my foot. When we finally got home, I was exhausted!

I had Greg take my "after" photo, and I headed back to our room. Per my podiatrist's orders, I took my first oxycodone-acetaminophin pill, antibiotic, went to the bathroom, and laid down in bed. When I looked at the time, I was surprised to see that my entire ordeal, from start to finish (driving there/home; including other stops), only took about four-and-a-half hours!


And now, I'd like to introduce you to Fanklestein! This photo was actually taken right after I got home from my post-op appointment, five days after my surgery, but I'm sharing it now to get the suspense out of the way! Ha ha. Stay tuned for even more Fankle! :)

I focused only on my sutures and faded the rest of my photo to spare everyone the messy details. :)

Sunday, August 14, 2016

Fankle, Continued...

(This is my second post in My Fankle Journey.)

I'm back! I've been through quite a lot during the past few weeks, and I'm finally ready to begin blogging again. So let's dig in! :)

If you've read my blog post, "My Pioneer Trek Sacrament Meeting Talk," you've been introduced to Fankle. If you haven't read my aforementioned blog post, let me catch you up to speed: in early June, 2016, I sprained my ankle very badly while longboarding. I endured quite a lot during my recovery, but it turns out, my new friend, Fankle, decided she can't live without me and has extended her stay! So sad face! :'(

So. Six weeks and two days after I sprained my ankle in the Zermatt parking lot in Midway, Utah, I went to my yearly physical checkup. While going over everything, I asked my doctor about my ankle that was still swollen and painful. He looked at it and said, "Well, I'm not an ankle specialist, so I can't say for sure, but if it's been that long, I would definitely go get it checked out by a podiatrist. I highly recommend Dr. _____ in our building, he's well qualified and a very good doctor."

After my checkup was finished, I walked downstairs and asked the receptionist if Dr. _____ had any appointments that day? I told her, "It's not urgent, I just know all doctors have cancellations, so I wondered if he's available?" She went back to his office, checked with him, and told me to come back at 1:30 p.m.

During my appointment, my podiatrist pushed, pulled, and twisted my sweaty foot. I apologized for my sweatiness and explained that my hands and feet sweat when I'm nervous. He didn't even blink an eye and said it was perfectly fine. (After searching Google images about my condition, I see that my sweaty feet are probably the least of my podiatrist's worries! Ha ha.) My podiatrist asked me many questions, after which he said I should have definitely already recovered after six weeks, so he had me do an x-ray. I knew my ankle wasn't broken, but went ahead with the x-ray since I wanted an answer to what was causing my pain.

The x-ray revealed nothing was broken—yay! But my podiatrist said there was a shadow on one of my ankle bones, which he thought was probably a bone bruise. Thus, he said I needed an MRI to confirm. I was bummed at the news of having to have such an expensive procedure done, but I agreed because if a board-certified podiatrist with an excellent reputation couldn't figure out my ankle's problem with the exam and x-rays he did, I knew something was going on.

The nurse scheduled my MRI, but mildly freaked me out with the safety-precaution questions she asked. While I don't have any severe allergies, I am allergic to sulfa antibiotics—which is why her questions made me nervous. I didn't want to go into anaphylaxis (is that the correct term?) in the MRI machine! Yet I later realized I would be just fine because I wasn't having any dye for my procedure. Whew! :)

Unfortunately, I had to wait an entire week before getting my MRI done. During that time, I kept hoping my Fankle would diminish, but "she" proudly stuck around.

For some reason, I had some anxiety about the MRI, which is weird for me. Usually, I'm so easy-going with medical procedures, but this one seemed really big to me. To combat my nervousness, I researched and read everything I could find about MRIs. As I rationally thought about what my MRI experience would be like, I knew I would be just fine.

But deep down inside, I knew Fankle was not fine. I knew something was really wrong with my ankle. I knew it the second I jumped backward off the longboard! Yet after all my ankle research and doctors' exams, I was still hoping and praying for a miracle. I knew they were just as stumped as I was, so I thought, "Hey, maybe it was just a really bad sprain, exacerbated by the fact that I trekked 23 miles through Wyoming on week three of my recovery! Maybe I just need an extra few weeks to heal!"

As a side note, my podiatrist said my pioneer trek most definitely did not help my ankle's condition! Yeah, I thought not—but I'd do my pioneer trek again in a heartbeat! It was absolutely worth every single minute of every sacrifice I made! :)

The morning of my MRI, I felt like I was going to court. Not that I've ever been to any sort of legal preceding, I just imagined that's what it would feel like: complete nervousness at the verdict that could change my entire life!

I was told to hold very still during the MRI. And because I wanted my MRI results to be perfect—so that I wouldn't have to have another one, but also so they could finally get my diagnosis correct—I held completely and perfectly still! I didn't budge even one millimeter! Yay me! That said, it was a l.o.n.g. 25 minutes. I'm grateful they made me as comfortable as they could and that I had music to listen to. I'll forever remember the awesome happy songs that helped me make it through: "Can't Stop the Feeling" by Justin Timberlake; and "Ride" by twenty one pilots!

Now, I must share this happiness (below)! But first, a couple of items:
1.) I love that Justin Timberlake is wearing all white. I love wearing all white! It's like, my thing! I probably love it so much because when I wear all white, I don't look quite so pale! Ha ha. In fact, I hope my next dress purchase will be a new white dress for church!
2.) Prior to Fankle, I could have totally danced in this video! Sadly, thanks to Fankle extending her stay, I'll just have to be happy with watching Galen, Justin and Lev—they're my favorite dancers in this video!



And while I'm at it, I'll share this catchy song too—even though it's not put together as well as Mr. Timberlake's. That said, I love their beat and style of music! This gem makes me want to dance and kickbox and sing all at once! Ha ha. Yes, you read that right. I kickbox, too. :)


After my MRI, I felt such freedom and accomplishment! You laugh, but I was really nervous about it! I even prayed for my angels to be with me that day. :) Thus, I just had to document the fact that I made it through(!), then I happily headed home.


I had nearly four days of waiting for my MRI-results appointment and spent that time with my wonderful family and extended family.

The Sunday before my Monday appointment, I was released from my calling as first counselor in my ward's Young Women presidency. While I will dearly miss all of "my" young women and the sweet leaders I served with, I will not miss all of the time it takes to help run an organization of such great importance. I honestly think serving in the YW presidency is like the equivalent of having a part-time job! Including my time as Young Women President while living in Texas, I've been in the amazing YW organization for nearly four and a half years! Yes, I'm ecstatic to have more time to spend with my precious family!!

I had butterflies while getting ready for my MRI followup appointment. When I was almost ready to go, Greg suddenly asked, "Can I go to your doctor appointment with you?" Surprised, I said, "Sure." I was only surprised because Greg was certain my results would tell me I was fine. He was sure we'd have a good laugh over Fankle one day! I, on the other hand, never wavered in my feelings that something was wrong. And, oh boy! would I have loved to have been proven wrong in this situation! Unfortunately, I was entirely too right!

We didn't have to wait at all for my podiatrist's nurse to come bring us back to the exam room. Just thinking about that experience gives me butterflies to this day! Dr. _____ came in with my MRI report, sat down and said (something like), "Okay, the results are in. You have two bone bruises—one in each bone [the tibia and fibula]; a partially-torn ligament on the outside-front of your ankle; and a torn tendon on the inside of your ankle." He then went on to explain what it all meant.

Apparently, bone bruises are just one step away from a fracture! I had no idea of the seriousness of bone bruises, but they are a big deal. I finally understood why my ankle/foot/calf were so greatly bruised—the bleeding actually came from my bone bruises! My bone bruises will heal with immobilization. My partially-torn ligament isn't too big of a deal, but it still needs time to heal and immobilization is the answer for that problem as well. But the tendon tear is where my biggest problem is...

My podiatrist explained that my posterior tibial tendon (or tibialis posterior tendon) had a linear/longitudinal tear in it, and without surgery, it won't heal properly—or possibly not at all. He said that too much time had passed since the date of my injury, and the chances of the tendon growing back together properly on its own are slim-to-none. He also said that I could just be put in a boot for eight weeks—to see if it would heal on its own, but that I would be really disappointed if it didn't heal and I had to have surgery anyway—and then I'd still be in a boot for an additional eight weeks after that!

As I listened to that kind man, I was in denial! I didn't want to believe that I was going to have surgery for the first time in my life! I mean, I've had plenty of stitches (or sutures, as surgeons call them) before, but those were nothing like actual life-changing surgery!!

Wanting to blame someone or something for my predicament, I asked my podiatrist if the first urgent care clinic had misdiagnosed me? He said, "No, there's no way they could have known what truly happened to your ankle without doing an MRI."—which is not the standard protocol after just being injured. X-rays and exams are the norm, especially when my foot felt like all its tendons and ligaments were intact—which is exactly what every doctor thought when they examined me. And after all of that, they would have told me to wait four to six weeks to heal, anyway!

Also, because my tendon tear is right down the middle (like when you pull apart string cheese, length-wise), no doctor would have been able to tell that my tendon isn't working properly because it was still fully attached and working properly—it just happened to have a tear in the middle of it.

As I've thought about it further, I realized that even if I had visited another doctor before I went on our stake's pioneer trek (during week three of my sprain), they probably would have said the same thing: it's not broken; it's just a bad sprain; wait until six weeks have passed—if it's not better by then, come back.

I wasn't trying to be rude to Greg because I dearly wanted him to be right with my whole heart and soul (that nothing was wrong with my ankle), but I totally said, "See?! I knew I was right! I knew there was something seriously wrong with Fankle!" He looked quite bummed-out. I felt even worse. :'(

We scheduled my surgery for that very Wednesday—just two days away, and listened intently to everything my podiatrist told us. We headed out the door and my mind was racing with everything I needed to get done at home so I could be ready for my surgery.

Before we continue, I'd like to say this:

For two months before my fateful "you need surgery" podiatrist appointment, I spent hours upon hours researching everything I could get my hands on about ankle sprains, ankle anatomy, and ankle recovery. Even though I knew about bone bruises, I didn't completely understand just how serious they are. I thought for sure my problem was just with my ankle's ligaments, fascia and retinaculums. Thus, the second my podiatrist began telling me what was wrong with my tendon, I knew right away that it was nothing to mess with.

Because of all the research I had done, I knew that surgery was my only option for a successful ankle rehabilitation. I desperately wanted to regain full function in my ankle and I wasn't about to mess that up just because surgery is nerve-wracking! I knew that surgery was exactly what I was supposed to do.

I say all of that because I was asked by family members if I was really sure that surgery was the best option, or if I had gotten a second opinion? I assured them I made the right choice. *Not to mention, my podiatrist has been a practicing doctor/surgeon for 21 years. I've read his credentials, and he's one of the best! I even compared podiatrists to orthopedists for my specific condition, and felt extremely confident that, for me, I made the right choice in picking my podiatrist.

It feels good when you know you've made the right choice, doesn't it?! :)

Everything after my MRI followup appointment over the next two days are a blur, but I remember being super tired from working so hard to get everything ready. The one thing I do remember from this time in my life is the dream I had. I'm fuzzy on when it actually happened, but I know it happened before my ankle surgery:

I dreamt I was in this amazingly beautiful and huge building. I think it was like a fancy hotel or someone's gorgeous and enormous home. While there, I began running extremely fast. My hair was flying out behind me! And I wasn't even sweaty! Ha ha. Suddenly, I began endlessly leaping, and jumping, and turning! I was limitless and completely perfect in my technique! My body did everything exactly as I desired! I was this amazingly fast, complicated and beautiful dancer! My awesome dream lasted quite a long time, and I continued dancing like that until I awoke.

I was really sad once I remembered that Fankle was hindering me from dancing like that in real life. Yet over the past 11 days, I've relied on my stunning dream more than once to help get me through my ankle-surgery struggle. As I think about my dream now, I believe it was a gift from Heaven! I believe Heavenly Father knew I needed to have a break from reality, and that vivid dream was exactly what would get me through. :)

As you can see, I'm not done writing my Fankle story—not even close! With this post, I'm only finishing act one! Ha ha. But right now, I need to go get ready for bed, and it takes me quite a while in my current differently-abled state. Just know that more Fankle updates will be coming, and I can't wait to write it all!