Living in limbo stinks. We all want resolution, no matter what the issue. Usually we’d rather have any resolution, even one that’s not optimal, rather than the nothingness of not knowing. Of course, once we get a resolution that spells bad news, we change our tune and say that it was better when at least we’d had hope. Such is the twisted logic of the mind.
The intensity of the memories of the Wineglass Tragedy is fading. For a couple days afterward, I relived the fall – a little post-traumatic stress if you will – I’ll leave off the ‘disorder’ part since it has indeed faded. I certainly questioned my judgment on pushing so hard to the finish. I had to come to grips with the whole thing.
In doing so, some things that weren’t at all clear then became more so with time. I hadn’t thought I’d passed out, but now I’m quite certain that I lost 15-20 seconds of my life between hitting the ground and entering the med tent – being walked in by people who I have no recollection of being picked up by (whoever you were, thank you!). I’m also pretty sure that something is busted in my nose. It’s still sore, bruised, and there’s a bump where one shouldn’t be. Alas, you can’t put a cast on your head, so what can you do but let it heal? And a sore nose doesn’t stop you from running.
But there’s that toe thing. The non-functional toe didn’t come from the fall, though obtusely it may have contributed to it by screwing up my stride and making me work harder. But whatever the proximate cause, the lingering reality is that it doesn’t work. And when your big toe doesn’t work – in this case, I can lift it but can’t push it down – it certainly does affect your running. I can run, and even run at a decent clip, but probably not for too long, since the second toe is called upon to do unnatural things that it just wasn’t designed to do (and as a result it is black, bruised, and certainly not beautiful at the moment). Without the ability to push off, well, it’s just not right, I tell you.
And it’s been two weeks. I’m going a little stir crazy not knowing the prognosis. I’m in running limbo.
If I run, am I doing any further damage? Dead is dead, right? You can’t get any more dead, just like you can’t get a little bit pregnant. Mr. Toe doesn’t work now, he doesn’t seem to be changing, so what’s the harm? I don’t like not running.
Or would Mr. Toe recover if I didn’t run? But how long would I have to not run to find out? And what if that theory is wrong? Then what’s the point of not running?
I’ve been doing what any normal person would do. Cheating the edge. Running a little. Which doesn’t satisfy either scenario, really.
Dr. Foot Doctor didn’t seem overly concerned, but perhaps he’s just an overly confident guy. He prescribed an MRI last Monday and said after seeing it we’d work a plan to fix the problem, resting if needed, or training right through it. Training right through it – I like the way he thinks. And he didn’t specifically say to stop running, though neither did he specifically say to keep running. But do the MRI.
Limbo… Should I run? I want to run. What if I’m hurting it? Should I be registering for Boston? I want to register for Boston. What if I won’t be running Boston (yes, I know you can defer, don’t let facts get in the way of a good blog now…)? Limbo… I can’t stand to wait.
But first, the insurance company has to pre-approve the MRI. And so while I want to run, and more importantly, I want to know if I should run, I must wait, because this is America and our health care system is massively screwed up. Why don’t they trust the doctor? I do, he’s the expert, he says we need to see what’s going on with an MRI, it makes sense, I believe him. This is not a rocket science decision. How else are you going to figure out what’s going on in there when we already know the x-ray back in July showed nothing? In my book, an insurance company should police for abuse. One MRI, when they already have a claim for an x-ray a couple months back, is not abuse. But they insist on the instant second guess. I’m not sure that nationalized medicine would help this – I might not be able to get an MRI at all – but something has to change, and change big time.
Days pass. Limbo. I want to run.
By Thursday I call the doctor and they have seen no response. By Friday, I’m antsy – did I say I want to run? I call the insurance company and, you guess it, they denied the MRI. And they sent their decision to me via – get this – snail mail. And of course they won’t tell me why. And of course, it’s late in the day, the doctor’s office is closed, I have to wait till Monday.
Limbo… The whole weekend? Should I run? I want to run.
I run anyway. Not a lot, but I run. Cheat the edge. I hope I’m not making it worse.
Monday comes, many phone calls, an in the end, the system sorta’ kinda’ maybe works. I’m in for the MRI for Tuesday morning. I’ve got my fingers crossed, because I can’t cross my toes – at least not on the right foot. But I’m still in limbo.