Relief

For the past few days, the bottom of my foot has sported a three-dimensional fluid-filled purple blob, a blister, part of the ever-evolving pressure sore left over after my encounter with the evil hospital boot. I've been doing almost everything in my power to try and keep the blister from becoming worse than it already is, which mostly means lying on my back with the leg propped up on two pillows stacked on top of each other, hoping that the thing wouldn't rupture itself.

Well, mission successful.

As of right now, the blister has been drained. After spending the day with the sore feeling like it had been stuffed with an inflating balloon, it feels so nice to know that most of the fluid in the blister has been squeezed out. And to have the bulk of the blister replaced with a decisively smaller band-aid is also wonderful…I can move my toes again!

When my father came home from work this evening, my mother suggested he take a look at the foot. His look lasted all of seconds before he asked me if I'd like the blister popped.

"Sure," I said.

Hours later (picking my youngest brother up from swim practice got in the way of seeing to my foot), my father approached his eldest, lying on the couch with leg in frame propped u on pillows, with a couple alcohol pads and a scary pointy object.

I asked if this would hurt.

He replied, probably not. Maybe some stinging later. But for now, the skin over the fluid sac would not be able to feel it as my father poked a small hole into the blister for the fluid to be drained out.

Then he started washing over the site with the alcohol pad. Once, twice. He was right: the blister itself had no feeling, though the skin around it did. Despite these hints towards the veracity of his promise, I still asked for Rhino the stuffed hippopotamus, just for comfort, only to discover that Rhino was right next to me.

And, before I could protest, the safety pin was in my skin and making the hole. I could feel a slight tugging sensation but there was no pain. It took a couple tries, from what I could tell, to set things straight—the fluid was hiding under a callous.

But before too long, the fluid was out, the blister more two-dimensional than three-dimensional. A tremendous relief.

I'm hoping that I'm now over the worst of my struggles with the foot. The frame remains very, very easy to live with and, really, hasn't been a problem. Which means that if this foot is over the worst of it, I'm over the worst of my recovery…

Probably not, but I can dream, can't I?