Fanklebaby

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

I pretty much laid in bed the entire first day of my Fankle surgery recovery. My foot—which I'll refer to as Fanklebaby for the next little while because of the immense amount of time and energy I've spent caring for it(!)—was tingly and numb from the nerve block I received just before surgery.

The nerve block seemed to wear off in stages/sections of my foot. The crazy/scary thing was that my foot was still partially numb at 10:00 that night! At that point, I was nervous and wondered if maybe my podiatrist had nicked a nerve in my foot?? Thankfully, the last part of Fanklebaby—my right pinky toe—regained feeling around 12:00 that night, er, morning. Even though I felt pain when the nerve block wore off, I was extremely relieved that my entire foot had full feeling again! I have no idea how people deal with permanent nerve damage on a daily basis!

So, the oxycodone-acetaminophen pills I was prescribed made me feel totally wacky! I felt as if everything around me was in slower motion, or maybe I was in slow-motion. Whatever it was, I felt sort of jiggly inside—like my mind and body weren't fully connected. I know that sounds weird and I can't accurately describe it, but I'm not a fan of that partial-narcotic! I ended up taking my OC-AC pills (Clever nickname, huh?!) for only two full days because I couldn't tolerate the side effects any longer! Plus, the scariest thing happened to me on day two:

I was very tired because of tossing and turning all night long—Fanklebaby did a great job of keeping me up! Grrr... So I napped for the majority of day two. I took my OC-AC right on schedule and it helped a little. Yet while I napped on and off, I distinctly remember feeling like I was forgetting to breathe. I remember having to remind myself, "Breathe, Adrie!" multiple times! Then I would take a really deep breath and keep breathing...until I forgot to breathe again! So yeah, after I took my afternoon dose, I decided I wouldn't take anymore of those scary pills that made me forget to breathe! Seriously, partial-narcotics are nuts! They are nothing to mess around with!

I shudder to think of those precious souls who accidentally overdose. After my experience with oxycodone-acetaminophen, I can see how easily a person could quit breathing if they took too many pills, and that would simply be the end of them. Again, please don't take any prescription painkillers unless you absolutely have to!

My family was blessed to have dinner provided by four wonderful women in our ward (church congregation) on the first and second days of my Fankle recovery. Our dinners were unbelievably yummy and we even had leftovers! Yay! I'm so grateful for their service and help, they made my life so much easier during those first two days!

Also, my darling little sister brought me the most beautiful flowers and a chocolate-peanut-butter milkshake! Her gifts were to-die-for and perfectly hit my soul's happy spot! But what I loved the most is that my sister took time out of her unbelievably busy full-time-employment and mama-of-two schedule to drive 30 minutes to my house, talk with me while eating her lunch, and drive 30 minutes back to work. Her sweet sacrifice was so appreciated and will never be forgotten!

Friday, day three of my recovery, was a rough pain day for me because I took only ibuprofen. Yet I knew that my pain level would also worsen because I'd decided not to take any kind of pain medication after Friday.

You see, I'd recently read that ibuprofen is somewhat controversial in terms of tendon healing. Based on all of the research studies I read, ibuprofen possibly interferes with the healing/rebuilding process; it possibly slows down a person's entire tendon recovery; and it possibly causes tendons to not be as strong when they're completely healed. Thus, instead of taking more pain medication, I managed my pain on my own through rest, elevation, ice therapy and sleep, i.e., multiple mini-naps each day!

As a side note, I've also read recently that after week four of tendon surgery, ibuprofen can possibly help prevent the formation of adhesions (internal scar tissue caused by surgery) while healing. Thus, I've taken one or two ibuprofen pills now and then when my Fankle is feeling achy/tender.

By Friday night, I finally ventured into our pink bathtub! Yes, our Disco Dandy 70s house still has its original pink tub! Oh man, was my bath time awkward and frustrating! I hung my calf/foot on the edge of the tub on a folded towel so my wrapped incision wouldn't get wet. I washed my hair using the tub faucet, but I felt more like a pretzel than a happy bath goer! Ha ha. I think my bath took an astonishing 40 minutes to complete, and I wasn't at all relaxed afterward! That said, I was unbelievably happy to be so squeaky clean!! Yes, that deserves two exclamation points!

Saturday, day four of my recovery, was probably my most frustrating day because I hadn't slept well since two nights before my surgery. #Fanklebaby! My problem with sleeping was three-fold: pain; awkward body positions; and an uncomfortable foot position inside my boot. I had to stuff my boot with a washcloth and a small kitchen hand towel in order to get the right support and angle for Fanklebaby. Yet even then, if I moved my boot the wrong way, it was unbelievably painful!

I remember feeling such annoyance and a slight depression with my situation that Saturday because I realized I wouldn't be off my crutches anytime soon. I thought back to my MRI-followup appointment when my podiatrist explained to me that I'd be back to driving a week after my surgery. In my hurting state, I thought, "What was he thinking?! There's NO way I can drive in four days! I can't even move my foot a smidgen without wanting to cry out in pain!" The thought of me driving my minivan at that point of my recovery was akin to summiting K2! Yeah, not gonna happen!

While I enjoyed laying in bed for a smidgen of my recovery—because it felt so nice to not have to do anything for once in my life(!)—after laying in bed for four whole days, I was completely over it. I wanted out of my situation! 

I wanted to be able to walk from my bed to the bathroom without using crutches or hopping on one foot! I wanted to be able to sleep without my foot in a huge, uncomfortable robotic boot! I wanted to sleep under the covers with my Gregor instead of using a mountain of pillows and a separate sheet to cover me! I wanted to shower normally and not worry about my incision! I wanted to move my foot normally without gasping in pain if my foot accidentally jerked the wrong way! I wanted to serve my family! I wanted to be able to drive! I wanted to be able to put my foot below my heart without desiring to cut it off (because of pain)! Ha ha.

I wanted,

I wanted,

I wanted...

By Sunday, day five of my recovery, I awoke feeling much better! :) I thoroughly enjoyed our special Sabbath by watching BYU Devotionals, reading my scriptures, napping, and watching the Olympics. I also finally felt true hope because I knew my post-op appointment was only one day away! Hip hop hooray! I couldn't wait for my podiatrist to give me some sort of good news!

Speaking of the Olympics, I will be forever grateful that I had my Fanklestein recovery during the 2016 Summer Games! The Olympics were so much fun to watch from my Fankle bed! They gave me something to enjoy with our world as it happened! I was truly happy to connect with our amazing athletes on Instagram, as well as watching them on NBC.

Michael Phelps was probably my favorite Olympic athlete. I loved cheering him on! I mean, how often do we get to witness history in the making?! Of course, the other athletes were sooo talented and fun to watch, and I truly enjoyed so many events, but I guess I latched on to Michael because of his story. He was an amazing athlete as a young man; then he struggled for many years; but then he made the biggest comeback ever! Not to mention, he has a beautiful family now! I truly appreciated his dedication, grit, determination, and follow through. He was an absolute inspiration!

Blessed Monday morning, day six of my recovery, finally arrived! I had taken a bath the night before and put my hair in French braids so I could easily get ready for my post-op appointment. The morning passed more slowly than I had hoped, but suddenly it was time to leave and I didn't want to be late! Ha ha. Isn't that always how it is?! As Greg drove us to my appointment, I relished how amazing it felt to finally get out of the house! Oh, I was such a sad little shut-in! Ha ha.

We checked in with the receptionist and barely waited two minutes when the nurse called me back to see the podiatrist. I was grateful she told me I could put my leg up on their stool because I couldn't fathom just letting my foot hang down with all the blood pooling in Fanklestein, causing me more pain!

Dr. _____ came in shortly and cut off my bandage—I was fascinated to see how much gauze was underneath! I was also extremely relieved to see him pull surgical tape off with the gauze as well. You see, whenever I moved a certain way, the tape pulled my skin and I envisioned the worst: that my sutures (stitches) were tearing, or something horrible like that! I was legitimately worried that I had undone something important that was created during my surgery, thus I didn't sleep very well—ever. After my tape revelation, I laughed at my very vivid imagination!

My sutures looked creepy (see my Fanklestein post for the photo), but I was so happy to actually see them instead of relying on my wild ideas of what might be lurking underneath my bandage! Ha ha. I was so relieved when Dr. _____ told me that my wound looked really good. Yay! He was so pleased with my progress! Double yay! His kind words meant so much because I had worked so hard at laying down, icing Fanklebaby and keeping it above my heart. And using crutches without falling down felt like a pretty awesome feat in itself! Ha ha.

I wanted to shout for joy when Dr. _____ told me I was cleared for taking a shower! He said to make sure I didn't soak my incision—that I could only let the shower water run over it, and wash it with soapy water. He also suggested that we purchase a shower chair for my comfort and safety. I was shocked I hadn't thought of that before! The Fankle dollar signs just kept adding up! Boo to the hoo. :(

Then my podiatrist told me the bad news: I needed to get my foot flat in my boot at a 90° angle no later than that upcoming Friday. He showed me—by pushing my forefoot up—just how much I would have to flex my foot to get it flat in my boot. I nearly screamed with pain at his actions and wanted to kick him in the head! Ha ha. Yet I know he only did that to show me it was safe to stretch Fanklebaby, despite my searing discomfort.

Dr. _____ then explained how my recovery would proceed. He said once I got my foot flatly into my boot, I could start putting minor pressure on it walking with two crutches. Once that felt okay, I could taper off to one crutch. He then took one of my crutches and demonstrated how to walk! I thought it was nice of him to show me so I wouldn't accidentally put too much pressure on Fanklebaby. Lastly, he instructed me to schedule my next appointment—suture removal(!)—for just over two weeks away.

As I think back on my first five days after posterior tibial tendon surgery (six if you include my surgery day), I'm reminded of how much service my husband provided for me. Greg continually checked on me and asked what he could do for me. He did everything possible to help me in any way I needed. I literally could not have had my ankle surgery without him! I have no idea how people handle surgery when they don't have family members to help them! My children helped me in many ways, as well. I consider myself mighty blessed!

Here is just one example of many sweet things my husband did for me while I spent all of my energy caring for Fanklebaby: After Greg brought me my blue ice pack (that's covering my foot, pictured below), he surprised me with this delicious treat plate! I nearly cried because not only did the fruit taste so delicious with all that whipped cream, but I loved seeing how much my wonderful husband continuously loves and cares for me!

That's it for now, but get ready for more Fankle because I'm not finished yet! :)

The next post in My Fankle Journey is "Fanklebot."

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! :)

The next post in My Fankle Journey is "Fanklebaby."

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!

The next post in My Fankle Journey is "Fanklestein."

Quick Blogspot Update

I came to a somewhat sad realization today. Blogger has changed their Dashboard policies. :( It used to be that you could follow any and all Blogspot blogs, whether public or private. (They're technically Blogger —i.e., Google—blogs, but they use the .blogspot web address.) Yet today, as I was looking for my friends and family member's private blog links in my Blogger Dashboard (so I could catch up on their lives), I didn't find any of them! Boo!

Yes, Blogger "told" me that we're no longer allowed to follow private blogs! Actually, their pop-up window said, "Cannot follow private blog" and included the web address of the blog I tried to follow. Blerg.

Thus, I had to reach really far inside my brain files to remember my friends' private blog web addresses! Thankfully, I was able to remember a few of them, but some continue to elude me! So sad face! I understand Google's need to streamline the Blogger Dashboard, but I'm not happy about their update because I no longer have my people's private blog links!

I just had to put my frustration out there. :) So if any of my friends/family with private blogs are reading this, please email me your blog address, otherwise I'll miss out on your fun life happenings!

Thanks a bunch for "listening," I feel so much better now! :)

My Pioneer Trek Sacrament Meeting Talk

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

Today I spoke in sacrament meeting about my experiences during my stake's Youth Pioneer Trek. My original talk was way too long—imagine that!—so, I crossed out several sentences as I waited for our meeting to begin. I think my talk was still probably too long, but it is what it is. #iamwordiness! ;) My blog, on the other hand, has no time limit (Yay!), so I'm super excited to be sharing my full talk here! That said, I edited it a smidgen for privacy.

Before we begin, let me share a few things... Greg and I were assigned to be the lead ma and pa for our ward. Initially, we thought we'd be the only "parents" on trek for 30 youth, but after attending our first stake trek meeting, it was decided that our ward needed another ma and pa. I'm so grateful we were able to divide/share our responsibilities with another couple because preparing for trek was a lot of work—they were essential to our success! :) Our ward ended up having 29 Youth go on trek. We missed several wonderful souls, but are so grateful for those Youth who did come with us! :)

After focusing intensely on trek for nearly three months (one of the reasons my blog has been so quiet), it's a little strange to know I'm actually done with my trek responsibilities. Yes, with the singing of our trek song, The Fire of the Covenant, and giving my talk in sacrament meeting today, I've officially completed my trek service! :) I'm not complaining, it just feels really good to finally be finished! While I'm so grateful for the entire experience of trek, and I'll remember it forever, trek wore me out! I'm extremely tired from the effort we put forth and I can't wait to actually have some moments to myself and my family!

Okay, here's my talk! 

Good morning! The topic I've been assigned is, "What I Learned About Myself and Our Pioneer Ancestors: Notes from Trek."

A situation I recently experienced ended up playing a big role in my trek journey. I titled my situation, "Fankle," which stands for fat ankle. Fankle became a challenge for me after I badly sprained my ankle on an extended family vacation in Midway three weeks before trek.

The day Fankle became part of my life, my world felt utterly perfect—that's not an exaggeration! I began the day working out with my little sister, we had such a great time together! Those who know me, know I love exercising in every form. Working out makes me happy!

Later that beautiful afternoon, my family and I went swimming. I discovered that the outdoor three-foot kiddie pool was the perfect place to practice my straddle-up handstands! It took a few falls, but I soon became the kiddie-pool handstand expert! In that sunshine-filled moment, I became 15-years-old again and had the gymnastic skills to prove it! Throughout that day, I was blissfully happy, surrounded by the people I love most. As my boys would say, it was a 10 out of 10!

I share that happiness to illustrate how hard it's been for me to be physically sidelined for so many weeks. Fankle is not my favorite. Yet I know Heavenly Father allowed me to have that most perfect of days to buoy me up for what was to come...

After my physically active day, one would think that I would have been satisfied to stay in our condo and relax with my family playing Monopoly. But when my brother-in-law said many of our extended family members were meeting in the parking lot to longboard, the Spirit told me I needed to participate, so I went. I've learned through many amazing experiences in my life that when the Holy Ghost speaks to me, I listen. Thus, a mere 45 minutes later, disbelief clouded my heart and tears filled my eyes as I sat on the sidewalk with my new friend, Fankle.

My ankle pain and swelling was intense, but the shock at what had occurred was unbearable. In the moments I sat waiting for my extended family members to discover me, I cried inside thinking, "I can't workout anymore!" But an even bigger worry immediately crept in: "What on earth am I going to do on trek?!" Thankfully, the x-rays assured me I didn't have any broken bones—but my level two sprain ensured that I'd be a gimp for the next four to six weeks. What the medical professionals didn't explain is the pain a sprained ankle causes...it hurt a lot!

One blessing I received from Fankle was that I had a lot of time to sit at my computer. In preparation for trek, I endlessly researched and read about many of my pioneer ancestors. On Family Search's Mormon Pioneer page, I found 29 of my direct ancestors who crossed the plains! In recent years, I'd read about two of my prominent LDS ancestors—John Solomon Fullmer and Thomas Grover. Their lives are intermixed with Joseph Smith, and our family feels blessed to have that early Church connection.

Yet as I looked over my pioneer ancestor names, one in particular stood out to me: Sarah Ann Harris. I clicked on Sarah's name but was disappointed not to find any information about her pioneer trek. I looked at her family tree and saw that she had 14 siblings! I decided to click on her parents' information, for I knew there was a story there!

Little did I know when I researched my fourth great grandparents—Robert Harris Jr. and Hannah Maria (pronounced Mar-eye-ah) Eagles—that I would find deep family ties to my favorite city! They were even one of the stories presented in our Youth's pioneer night a few weeks before trek!

In that moment, I humbly realized that my fourth great grandparents wanted me to find them. You see, Robert and Maria weren't listed on my initial pioneer page. If I hadn't been listening to the Holy Ghost who told me to click on Sarah's name, and then her parents' names, I never would have known about my connection! After learning about the Harrises, I concluded they had an incredible love story—one worthy of a historical novel and movie! And late last night, I discovered that a distant cousin of mine has written a trio of historical novels based on their lives! I love it when I'm right! I can't wait to read his books!

Yet I was stunned to realize that one of the two General Conference talks I was given to help me prepare for today includes Robert and Hannah Maria Harris' story! Yes, in General Conference, April, 2014, Elder William R. Walker spoke specifically about our great grandparents! I find it fascinating that out of the many General Conference talks about pioneers, our bishopric chose the talk about my fourth great grandparents—just for me! Yeah, that's not a coincidence. The Harrises wanted me to know them and learn from their legacy. :)

I was also delighted at what I learned from my other pioneer ancestors:

From my fourth great grandmother, Susanah Shuker Clark, I learned that wicked stepmothers indeed exist. 11-year-old Susanah was forced by her stepmother to cross the plains while carrying her very large, one-year-old half-brother the entire way. Her stepmother always said, "You go on ahead, Susanah, I'll catch up..." but she never did. I can't imagine a grown woman allowing a child to take on her responsibility in that exhausting way, yet Susanah remained strong and completed her trek!

After settling in Utah, Susanah's stepmother wouldn't allow her to wash her clothes at their house and forced Susanah to wash them at her older married sister's house. Susanah's family was so poor, she attended only one party during her entire growing-up years—I find that to be a tragedy! ;) When Susanah was ready for marriage, her father gave her the tops of his boots to make her wedding shoes. Susanah wore that same pair of shoes for an entire year! Yet during our stake trek, I heard stories of pioneer women who wore rags on their feet instead of shoes—which means my Susanah was pretty blessed.

Before trek, I was feeling picked-on that I had only a few pair of flip-flops to wear with my Fankle brace. I wondered if I should go buy more flip-flops because the pairs I had weren't dressy enough for church. In that moment, I said to myself, "Adrie! If Susanah Clark can wear one pair of shoes for an entire year, you can certainly rotate between your three pairs of flip-flops for the next four weeks—you'll survive!" :) As a side note, the photo of my fourth great grandparents—Susanah and David King—is gorgeous. They look like they stepped right out of a classic 1800s movie! I had fun imagining their love story!

What I learned from my fourth great grandfather, James Frederick Bunn, is that the parent-child relationship hasn't changed much in 101 years. James' journals are filled with daily facts, but the sentences that made me laugh included things like what time James woke up his children, versus when they actually got up and began working. He shared that his children left in the morning to go do something, but didn't come home for hours. Over and over, James frustratingly wrote about the fact that his children didn't complete the tasks he gave him. His daughter Elsie, sounded like quite the little socialite, and James was bothered that Elsie didn't care that she left her mother to work alone. That said, I'd like to point out that my third great grandmother, Minette, was never mentioned negatively in James' journal entries! ;)

Jane Comish Ashton, my fourth great grandmother, taught me that you can remain strong—both physically and spiritually—no matter what happens. Jane was asked to leave the beautiful Isle of Man (the island between Great Britain and Ireland), sail to America, and work with her father for two years to save money so they could bring the rest of their family members over. While their family was living in Missouri, Jane's youngest brother died. In their family history, it said that losing 8-year-old Joseph was the most difficult thing they had endured up to that point. Jane married Robert, a widower with one daughter, and they trekked to Utah shortly after their marriage. Joseph's death prepared Jane to later lose six of her eight sweet children: three died before the age of two; the other three passed away in their early 20s. I truly can’t imagine the pain Jane endured in losing her most precious children! Despite such tremendous losses, Jane and Robert remained dedicated to their faith for the rest of their lives.

Thanks to Fankle, I had additional time to discover the prominent people I'm related to. According to BYU's Relative Finder—another feature of Family Search, I'm related to many notable Latter-day Saints, celebrities, US Presidents, and European royalty! I was really excited to find out that my second-cousin-once-removed is Elder Gary E. Stevenson! More of my extended cousins include: Steve Young; Henry Samson—who sailed on the Mayflower; a few souls from the Salem witch trials; Lucille Ball; Humphrey Bogart; Henry Fonda; Jimmy Stewart; and Barack Obama.

Now let's move on to trek.

One of our stake leaders' assignments was for each Youth to find one of their pioneer ancestors to trek for and learn their story. While I didn't read every Youth's pioneer ancestor story—because our ward had two trek families, I read quite a few of them and loved what I learned! This ward has wonderful pioneer ancestors! But that doesn't surprise me because all of you are wonderful, too!

For my family's trekking assignments, my oldest son trekked for Robert Harris, Jr.; my daughter trekked for Jane Comish Ashton; Greg trekked for his third great grandfather, Jacob Foutz, Jr.; and I trekked for my little sister, Mackenzie, who died when she was 18-and-a-half years old. I wanted to trek for my youngest sister because she was never able to go on trek. When I prayed about trekking for Mackenzie, I felt strongly that I made the right decision! :)

Being on trek reiterated to me the need for all of us to work together in unity in whatever situation we find ourselves. I loved watching our trek family members working hard for each other! I love how our stake members endlessly served each other! Even though we were tired, I saw smiles upon smiles! The happiness of our Youth was contagious! I also greatly enjoyed our fascinating conversations with each other. We had such fun together! Well, at least I did! :) Because of trek, I saw a social rejuvenation in our Youth that is priceless! Yes, the pioneers' socialization model produced maximum benefits for our tech-savvy Youth!

There were several times when other wards in our stake weren't trekking as quickly as the mighty youth of our ward, and we had to come to an abrupt halt. There were times—because of my painful Fankle—when I wasn't trekking as quickly as our ward's Youth probably would have liked. Sometimes, our entire stake stopped trekking for a few minutes so leaders could care for a sick or injured trekker. In order for our stake to stay healthy and happy, we stopped a lot for water and bathroom breaks. At times, it seemed to take quite a while for us to be ready to move forward again.

There were also two instances during trek when satan made his presence known to our stake. I won't go into details, but those short experiences reminded me that we must remain strong in our efforts to stay close to the Lord at all times—there is no room for diversion or weakness in our souls!

I view those trek experiences as an analogy for our membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, as well as life in general. In our journey of life, do we get frustrated when we need to slow down for someone else? Are we antsy while waiting for others to learn or be rescued? Are we willing to take the necessary preventative steps to keep our souls healthy and safe—even when those spiritual steps are time consuming? Do we respect our inspired leaders and their vision of what needs to happen for The Church and its members? Do we try our best to keep moving forward, even if it's not at the pace we'd like? Do we run to our Savior when satan tries to confuse or sway us from our eternal goals?

In this race of life, whether we feel we're moving too quickly or too slowly for someone else, we need to keep smiles on our faces and happy attitudes in our hearts—for we never know when those roles will be reversed. Will we, or a loved one, suddenly find ourselves in a less-than-desirable situation that calls for extra patience, and possibly more suffering than we think we can bear? If and when we find ourselves waiting for someone else, instead of becoming frustrated, we would be wise to step outside of ourselves and see if we can help. Similarly, if we truly need help from someone else, we shouldn't turn away from their kind efforts. We must allow for genuine service between each other! :)

Unlike our very organized stake trek itinerary, our Heavenly Father doesn't have a specific schedule or timeline for when each of us should reach important milestones. Our Heavenly Father sees it all, and has placed us in each others' lives for many reasons. Whether we're the helpers or the recipients, we need each other! Unlike what social media has done to our society, the human family needs personal, physical and spiritual interaction daily! We must do our very best to reach out to each other—especially when called upon by the Lord. We must not ignore those vital promptings by the Holy Ghost.

Outstanding Paralympic track athlete Aimee Mullins said,

"There is adversity and challenge in life, and it's all very real and relative to every single person, but the question isn't whether or not you're going to meet adversity, but how you're going to meet it. So, our responsibility is not simply shielding those we care for from adversity, but preparing them to meet it well." 

Brilliant, right?! :)

I believe our pioneer ancestors prepared us to meet our own adversities well. One of the greatest things we can learn from them is how to tackle adversity head-on and endure to the end. They also showed us how to lovingly sacrifice for our faith. I love these words from The Fire of The Covenant, "With nothing left, they still kept their faith in Him." also, "Hold on thy way, be not afraid, for God is on thy side." Our beloved pioneer ancestors never gave up, and neither should we! :)

Now I must share my experience with Martin's Cove, which came on the second day of our trek:

My Fankle was incredibly sore. I awoke that morning wondering how I could possibly keep going. I wanted so badly to jump on the back of a handcart! I wished for a ride on the individual handcarts, but they were reserved for trekkers with serious medical needs and I knew that wasn't me. Despite my pain, I had thoroughly researched sprained ankles before we left and knew that my Fankle was a-okay. I wasn't doing any damage by walking in my brace, so I kept going. But by the time we stopped for lunch, I thought I was going to have to call it a day and hang out with the food committee in their spacious, air-conditioned trailers! I immediately took three ibuprofen and couldn't wait for the pain to subside.

By the time we started walking from the amphitheater up toward Martin's Cove, it had been nearly two hours since I had taken the ibuprofen and I still didn't feel any relief—and I usually feel relief with ibuprofen after about 20–30 minutes. Yet my foot hurt so badly that I was going at a snail's pace. People were passing me faster than they ever had, and I didn't even care anymore!

After we descended into the valley, rounded the first curve into Martin's Cove, and were about 25 feet in, my ankle pain seemed to disappear. I ignored it at first because I thought I'd just taken a really good step. But after about 30 seconds, I realized my pain was lessening with each and every step. Within seconds, I felt no pain in my ankle at all! I looked around, stunned! I kept walking and wondered if I was imagining it, or if it was really happening?

Yet there was no denying it: I was walking without pain for the first time in three weeks, to the day. Tears threatened to give away my joy, but I didn't want someone to mistake them for pain, so I kept them to myself! :) In case you're wondering, my ankle was literally pain-free for about 19 hours—long after the ibuprofen would have worn off. The pain only came back the next day because I did too much when I should have been resting.

As we headed down the slight incline of Martin's Cove, I suddenly saw my daughter up ahead of me. At that very moment, a beautiful monarch butterfly flew in front of her and landed on her back. The butterfly rested there for a few seconds, then flew off again. I gasped and said to Greg, "Did you see the butterfly on ______?!" He said, "Yes," as we watched the butterfly fly back to our daughter and land on her again—in the very same spot on her back. I was so excited! The butterfly flew away as I quietly gushed to Greg about what we'd seen. He was pretty excited, too. Yet when that beautiful monarch butterfly flew to our daughter and landed on her back for a third time, I knew that my little sister, Mackenzie, was telling me she was absolutely with us on trek. :)

You see, ever since Mackenzie died, our family has continually seen monarch butterflies when we get together for important family functions, or when we're talking about her. Many times when I think about Mackenzie, a monarch butterfly will suddenly fly into my view. Some people might call those butterfly encounters just a coincidence, but our family has experienced this happy little miracle too many times to believe it's just a coincidence. And the fact that my daughter—and it was only her—had that big, beautiful monarch butterfly land on her shirt three times, out in the middle of nowhere Wyoming, well, no one can ever convince me that it was just a coincidence. Interestingly, my son said he also saw a lot of butterflies while on trek. :)

Our walk through Martin's Cove was amazing. Not only was I given a miracle with my vanishing ankle pain, but I finally understood the reason Fankle wasn't just an accident. I was so happy to have that answer, especially since I knew I was inspired to go longboarding that night! Feeling my littlest sister's spirit there helped me know—absolutely—that many beloved angels were with our stake trek members! The Spirit was unbelievably strong in Martin's Cove—it was the loveliest feeling and I'll never forget it!

In Dallin H. Oaks' talk, "Following the Pioneers," he asks us, "...After all these [pioneer] studies and activities, it is appropriate to ask ourselves, 'Therefore, what?' Are these pioneer celebrations academic, merely increasing our fund of experiences and knowledge? Or will they have a profound impact on how we live our lives?" My reply to Elder Oaks' question is this:

My sacred experiences in Martin's Cove illustrate that miracles still happen. And if miracles still happen for me, all of those astounding miracles that happened to the pioneers aren't just inspiring, tear-inducing stories—they're real. The pioneers' strength and unbelievable sacrifices were not given in vain, but for the greatest cause of following our Savior, Jesus Christ, and returning to our Heavenly Father.

Like Elder Walker said about our pioneer ancestors, we are "standing on the shoulders of giants." We should look to our pioneer loved ones with the utmost respect, reverence, awe and happiness because they got it. They understood what's most important in life: living the Gospel of Jesus Christ and sharing it with everyone they possibly could; and they gave everything to meet those goals.

Elder Hales said, "The Lord expects us to be as faithful, as devoted, as courageous as those who went before us. They were called to give their lives for the gospel. We are called to live our lives for the same purpose." Yes, we should give our very best in living and sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ. There has never been a better time to be a missionary, and yes, we can be missionaries each and every day of our lives!

Lastly, I'm inspired by the pioneer ancestor stories I didn't find. I know several of my pioneer ancestors' names and important dates, but nothing was written about their lives. I was deeply saddened that there's nothing online to tell of my ancestors' life experiences. In those moments of non-discovery, I realized their silent advice is that we must write down our own stories! If we don't write about our lives, no one will do it for us—unless we're lucky enough to have a loved one write it. Yet do we really want someone else telling our story? I feel strongly that we must write about our own lives for our posterity's benefit! :)

A 2013 New York Times article said, "The single most important thing you can do for your family may be the simplest of all: develop a strong family narrative... [Children] who know a lot about their families tend to do better when they face challenges." After learning about Robert, Maria, Jane, Susanah, and James, I couldn't agree more!

I hope and pray we will choose to be like The Fire of the Covenant song where it says, "...we will rise up and shine the light He gives. And with the Saints we will testify: He lives!"

I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

P.S. I know I've shared this quote on my blog before, but it's one of my all-time favorites and I'm sharing it again! :)



The next post in My Fankle Journey is "Fankle, Continued..."