My sister sprained her ankle in P.E. class a few weeks ago and I shadowed her at her most recent physical therapy appointment.
As her therapist did some soft tissue work, he asked me which plane of motion you work on first when treating an ankle sprain. Admittedly, it’s been a while since I shadowed in a clinic, but I remembered that moving in the sagittal plane causes the least aggravation.
The sagittal plane at the ankle refers to pointing the toes/ankle towards the ceiling (termed dorsiflexion) and towards the floor (plantarflexion). It is important to regain range of motion progressively after an injury, but movement in the sagittal plane minimizes aggravation to the damaged lateral (to the side) soft tissue of the ankle.
Eventually, you work towards regaining motion in the frontal and transverse planes as well, as the tissue continues to heal so that functional movement can be obtained.
*All images are from Google images public searches*
Rumbelle this is probably a bad time, but marry me?
It was her fault. It was all her fault.
If she hadn’t fallen off of the ladder then his ankle would have been fine and when he fell he would have been fine. But no. She HAD to dust the top shelves. And he HAD to come in. And she HAD to fall. And he HAD to catch her instead of just letting her hit the floor. She was healthy. It wasn’t that far of a fall. She would have been fine. But no instead he had to be the hero. Save her. Had to–
Her head shot up, and she swallowed the lump in her throat as Dr. Whale stepped into the waiting room. She’d been the one they called when the incident happened. Gold didn’t have any living relatives besides his son, and all Belle knew was that they weren’t on speaking terms. Someone had broken into his shop. Gotten him with pepper spray. Ignoring that whole other can of worms, Gold had stumbled and fallen when his bad ankle tried to catch all of his weight. They’d called her when he got to the hospital, the town collectively knowing that it was Belle who had the best chance of calming Gold down, but also that she’d kill them if no one told her about it.
“Is he okay?” Belle asked instantly.
“He’s fine.” Whale said, but the look in his eye did little to alleviate Belle’s worry. “His ankle is shattered. It’s an old wound that never healed properly. It’s not looking good. He’ll need surgery.”
“Or he’ll never be able to walk on it again, or at the very least not for a very long time.”
Belle nodded, numbness creeping down her fingertips. Surgery. That word had come up in conversation before. He hated the thought of surgery.
“But the surgery will make him better?” She said, trying to think logically.
“It will give him his best chance of it. It’s going to be a long process. Lots of physical therapy. He may always need the cane but…”
She nodded. “Can I see him?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
Whale led her through the sterile halls to the room he was being kept in until the next step was decided. It was too white. Too unnatural. Like its own kind of prison. That was another thing they had in common on their long list. They both hated hospitals.
“Belle.” She heard Gold breathe before she rounded the curtain to see him.
He was layed back, ankle propped up. The joint was swollen and miscolored, and Gold looked so vulnerable with only the hospital gown. But he was looking at her. He was pale and in pain but he was breathing.