I’m nicknaming my leg RVW. Apparently, it has been asleep for 40 years and just decided 2020 was the alarm clock going off.

40 years ago, I had a motorcycle accident. My first time on one, first date, with my first love. On a Friday the 13th. It was the beginning of the rest of my life. I ended up breaking both the tibia and the fibula, lower left leg, along with several other significant injuries. However, those two bones decided to be problem children.

I had a Hoffman frame to stabilize the bones and set them. It involved 6 pins drilled through the bones and attached on the outside of the leg with Frankenstein’s spare parts, and after what seemed an eternity, the doctor decided it was no longer needed and removed it, putting me in a thigh cast. However, his associate neglected to cut windows into the cast, and several weeks later, we discovered the reason I was in so much pain and my room smelled like death… gangrene.

So began a battle of the surgeries to repair the mangled extremity, and two years later, I was as good as new with a deformed-looking leg. Over the years, I got used to it and got used to not wearing shorts. No big deal.

Fast forward 40 years.

I have gained some weight and wanted to get back down to a comfortable size, so I began walking again. I have a very competitive boss friend and we like to compete to see who goes the furthest and has the most steps every day. So what does Rhonda do? She decides 5 miles a day isn’t enough, and for three weeks, she walked 7 miles every morning. Listening to a great book on Audible helped the time pass, and I felt so good about my newfound motivation.

However.

I had noticed back in April that my lower left leg was swelling every day – not its counterpart, just the left leg. I didn’t have any pain, so I didn’t worry too much about it. Over the summer, I Google diagnosed and thought maybe it was a DVT. After speaking with my stepdaughter nurse when a little bit of pain showed up, we determined that it must be a stress fracture from the excessive obsessive walking.

But it got worse…bad enough that I thought a doctor visit was in order. At first, it was thought that it must be a little inflammation or cellulitis due to the newfound activity, so a steroid and simple antibiotic was prescribed, along with a nice pain med. That didn’t work.

Two weeks ago, a CT and blood work was ordered and more pain meds were prescribed, along with a daily infusion of antibiotics.

And then the MRI was done, and RVW decided to pose for his picture. Inside my tibia, a pocket of abscess nasty had decided to live for FORTY years, all asleep and content. And for some weird reason, he decided it was time to get up and scream. He is about 2 1/2 inches long and he is like a newborn baby with his hours all upside down – so he loves to scream all night long. (Apparently, bone infections are well known for having nocturnal pain.)

The pain has gotten worse over the last two weeks, and I am not sleeping much at night. A Costco bag of frozen strawberries has been my teddy bear comfort, along with several bottles of drugs that sit on my bedside table. (I have taken more pain meds in two weeks than I have in a lifetime.)

And Sam. He holds my hand in bed, rubs my thigh, and feels what I feel when he is on chemo – helpless.

Today, we had an appointment with an ortho trauma surgeon at KU. I figured he would tell me it would be a change in antibiotics and an 8 week long haul of daily infusions. Instead, he told us that a room was being reserved for me at the hospital and surgery would happen tomorrow.

But I have things that need to get done at home! We can come back next week when there isn’t so much on the schedule!

At least one surgery is scheduled – maybe more – I meet with an infectious disease doctor in the morning, and this room will be home for the next week, or so they say.

Sam is in MY place now and has taken over. We are getting this done now. I guess there is a risk that the bone could continue to weaken with RVW taking up space and the last thing I need is a broken bone with RVW on the loose.

So, tonight, I guess I am grateful for a green gown that ties in the back.

I am grateful for a partner who takes wonderful care of me and doesn’t let me make stupid decisions.

I am grateful for the anticipation of an end to this horrific pain and a return to a full night of sleep.

I am grateful for my friends who have reached out today and let me know I am not alone and they are speaking my name in their prayers.

I am grateful for a friend who already went through this bone infection thing, sort of, and referred us to this surgeon, and I am grateful for competitive boss friend who got the ball rolling faster when she knew the pain was intensifying.

I am grateful for a neighbor who will take care of Banana and Split while we are gone and will overlook the house neglect as a result of the homeowner carrying around a screaming old man in her leg.

I am grateful for Sam’s oncologist who is doing all he can to get Sam’s chemo treatment rearranged so Sam can be here with me.

I am grateful to be at KU where we already know we will get the best of the best care.

I am grateful that my stupid leg still means a lot to Jesus and I have come to acceptance this evening that this is what September looks like for us. My only assignment is to trust Him and lean not on my own understanding.

And be nice to scrubs with needles and Milk of Magnesia.