A patient testimonial article reprinted from Minnesota Tri News (June 17, 2010) with permission by the author:
The Art of De-Casting…
By Bonnie Platre
Most people acquire sponsorships via impressive podium finishes, amazing splits, and breaking course records. Me? I fall and crash.
As I ran down the steep trail strewn with brilliant signs of fall, I carefully maneuvered around rocks and suspicious-looking leaves beckoning me to test their surface for stability. Suddenly a cracking noise rang out like that of a dry stick trampled underfoot. The next moment I was desperately failing at hopping on one foot as my other ankle become enveloped in heat, mushrooming over the top of my running shoe.
Enter Dr. Lance Silverman.
Mad, evil witch doctor of the ankle and foot sort.
Enter Bionics.
The aforementioned evil doctor was also a sports surgeon by day. After surgery to fix two destroyed tendons and a ligament on my left ankle, he had the audacity to put an endurance athlete into a cast for four weeks. A Cast! For Four Weeks! No movement. No walking. Nothing. Zip. Curse him!
Said cast lasted as long as I could take it: seven days. After my full ankle reconstruction I crept into my bedroom and locked the door like a criminal hiding from the sirens drawing nigh. I had a kitchen knife and some hefty scissors and carefully proceeded to cut the cast off. It was Christmas Eve and I felt a little bit like the Grinch.
A week later I called and confessed my sins to Dr. Silverman. He begged me to listen to reason and promptly sent someone to my house to put me into a walking cast. I hung up on him.
After some aggressive research on cadavers and case studies in Europe regarding the early removal of casts, Dr. Silverman changed his tune and repeated the truism: “When all else fails, listen to the patient.” He pledged that from now on, all of his patients would have early cast removal. What defined “early” was the true question.
Now that I had a wonderfully repaired ankle (Dr. Silverman made me say that), I hoped to never see his smiling face again. Alas, I tore the ligaments on my other ankle extensively the very next year and once again entered into the surgical room with Dr. Silverman uttering some sort of threat about early cast removal as I went under the anesthesia tide. The last thing I heard him say was, “We made this one extra sturdy just for you. Let’s see you try to get this bad boy off!”
I ruined a perfectly good pair of scissors, and the brand new pair of hedge cutters I had were no match for Dr. Silverman’s armor. Blast him! And so I endured my cast for the newest and most aggressive recommendations of: Two whole weeks. Dr. Silverman said compromise is good for the soul and I humbly admitted that two weeks wasn’t all that bad. (He also made me say that last sentence.)
As I entered his office and was given the usual greeting, “Ah! Dr. Silverman’s most naughty patient is here!” I was elated when they removed the beast. Of course they noted the multiple attempts to remove the cursed thing as most of the bottom had been hacked off, a large portion of the cast stuffing was missing, my calf bore the marks of chop sticks being shoved down inside to relieve itching and I had graffiti-ed it with cool triathlon slogans and a large Ironman symbol.
Dr. Silverman was kind enough to not only forgive me of my cast violence but also to show his support for health and fitness. He became my sponsor for triathlon. (Or perhaps it was that he relinquished to his fate to have to put up with me??) Yesterday I ran 14 miles totally pain free. Thank you, Dr. Silverman.
P.S.- I secretly dig my scars. – BP
