ONE WEEK AND 2 OBSCURE MEDICAL MALADIES LATER . . .

Saturday, April 24, 2004

So I'm sitting here in this little wheelchair, having somehow contrived to add two obscure medical maladies to my lifetime list in the space of 24 hours.

Gout and foot drop.

The gout plays only a minor role in this story. It woke me up in the early morning hours of April 1, and though I'd never had it before, my father did, and I was fairly sure what it was. And as I hobbled around for the next several days, because my right big toe hurt a lot, I didn't realize there was something else going on as well.

My chivalrous colleague, Peter Blake, had been ferrying me to and from work, and a week ago Friday, he dropped me off at Denver's Webb Building for a presentation on the city's proposed new jail site. I figured I'd walk back to the News building, just a couple of blocks.

I couldn't.

My right foot kept threatening to go out from under me (something I fear anyway, because a junior high ankle injury has caused me to fall a number of times). Without something to hold on to, I could take only tiny steps, and by the time I reached the sidewalk across from the News, I realized I was never going to be able to cross eight lanes of arterial traffic by myself.

I hung on to a lamppost for a little while, until someone crossed Colfax Avenue toward me, and I hailed him and asked for help. He lent me his arm, and with the security of knowing I wasn't going to fall, I was able to achieve my building's side of the street.

This very kind gentleman, from Tennessee, he said, also volunteered that he was a Scoutmaster in the Boy Scouts. Could I have chosen anyone more perfect? He certainly made my day, and I hope I made his, because if you're a Boy Scout, you encounter a limited supply of little old ladies who need help crossing a busy street!

By the following Monday I was much worse, with panic flaring at every uncertain step, and by midafternoon the company nurse plopped me into the company wheelchair (what a blessing to have both of them) and my colleagues took me home. The next day the doctor I saw at Kaiser said it was likely "foot drop."

The condition, which of course has a proper medical name as well, occurs when the nerve that runs down the outside of the leg (like the one in your arm you call "the funny bone") isn't sending signals reliably and sometimes when you say to your foot, "Foot, up!" it responds, "Says who?" and just sits there.

It sounds like a small thing, and yet it essentially makes walking impossible.

Is it related to the gout? Medically it seems unlikely, since they are entirely different mechanisms. Yet when two very odd things happen to the same body part on the same day, one tends to assume there is a connection. And unfortunately, I can think of one. It has been my habit, for many years, to sit with my right foot curled up under me (never the left). Could that have damaged the nerve? Indeed it could.

I talked to my brother Thursday evening, and it turns out that he, too, has had a gout attack, and he also habitually sits on his right foot. He now plans not to do that any more.

Meanwhile, I have been reorganizing my life. When I moved in 2000, one of the rationalizations I used to justify buying a condo I really couldn't afford was that it was in a brand-new building and so everything would be handicapped-accessible, "just in case." Hah. I was right.

The one problem at home was that the door to the unit had a very aggressive spring-loaded door closer, and getting both me and the chair through it over the door's active opposition was a struggle. I don't know why I needed a door closer anyway, and my next-door neighbor helpfully took it off so I can come and go without help.

For the time being I can't drive, since the foot on the accelerator pedal might fail to comply if I asked it to let up. However, I have a 1992 Subaru hatchback with a five-speed stick shift. My son has a 1996 Subaru sedan with an automatic transmission. I need the automatic; he'd like a hatchback. Seems to be the beginning of a solution there.

Now that I know what the problem is, I find I can walk without too much difficulty as long as I have something to hang on to, and I'm using the wheelchair pretty much as a walker, until I switch to a real walker, probably next week. I can stand safely, so I can cook in my tiny kitchen where there's always a counter within reach.

I still need help from my friends while I wait to see if the condition improves (it may, though there is no guarantee). I think I'll manage all right, but it has been a most disconcerting few days.