I injured my ankle when I was approximately twelve years old: as I was running & playing tag with a bunch of kids at summer camp, my foot found a hole and I rolled my ankle. Badly. I hobbled around the rest of the week. And for a long time, that spot on my ankle hurt when any pressure was applied. I assumed it would eventually go away.
Flash forward 24 years: my ankle is generally fine, unless I get hit right on that spot (And then? Incomprehensible pain). But after running a 5k two days in a row, I was limping badly. So I finally got in to see a specialist.
The nurse took x-rays right in the office. She asked me where it hurt, and I pointed. Seconds later while she was positioning my foot on the plate, she absent-mindedly pressed that spot... HARD. I instantly folded to the ground in pain. She must be part Vulcan. Or all masochist. She apologized, and I laughed through teary eyes. It was kind of funny how instantaneously she forgot why I was getting x-rays. Duh.
The x-rays revealed no bone issues, so an MRI was ordered to check for tissue damage, which would be followed by a nerve conduction test to check for nerve damage. That WAS the plan... until my insurance company refused to pay for the MRI unless I first completed 8 weeks of conservative treatment: physical therapy, and wearing a boot. (Yes, the insurance company in its infinite wisdom chose to try treatment prior to diagnostics. Makes perfect sense. Even though we have no idea what's actually wrong. Genius!!!)
So here is the boot, which much to my delight looks much like a snowboarding boot and has made me all the more excited for ski season. Kelley has already been wearing a boot for several weeks due to a stress fracture. I'm crossing my fingers that hers is a left, so that once the baby is born, we can run the most awkward, sisterly three-legged race ever.