Lisfranc Injury

It happens when you least expect it. You never see it coming. That's when most serious accidents occur. I've had more than my fair share of broken bones in my life; twenty-seven to be exact. This injury, however, which I call my snap, crackle and pop injury, resulted in three foot bones, called metatarsals, being not only broken, but dislocated as well. I wasn't doing anything risky, daring or sexy. I wasn't riding a super-fast sports bike on a race-track or anything. My accident was the result of sheer stupidity. All I did was fall down the stairs. Simple–eh? ...Just like I said – when you least expect it!


I've lived in my same Condo for over twenty years. Its got five levels and four separate flights of stairs, all carpeted. In all those years, I'd say that I'm up and down those stairs at least twenty times a day and do you know what happened in all those years?...Nothing!...Nothing at all! No slips and falls; no mis-steps; no aches, pains or bruises; not even a stubbed toe. Nothing happened until the early evening of April 15th, 2004.

I was in a good mood. I'd just finished supper so I thought I'd take the kitchen garbage down to the garage where I keep a larger garbage bag. It was something I'd done a thousand times before. I grabbed the plastic bag and bounced down the stairs, like I usually do, just like a kid would. But, this time... one of the steps went missing. I was being thrown forward towards the floor of my front hall when my right foot got caught on something and I felt it rip and go snap crackle pop! I've had injuries before and I knew instantly that this was no minor injury. The extreme pain took my breath away. I lay on the front entrance floor just trying to catch my breath. My foot began to burn as if it was on fire. When I was finally able to move I removed my sock and I watched my foot balloon-up into the size of a football. I felt sick but I managed not to vomit. I pulled a used aluminium pie plate out of the small garbage bag that was still wrapped around my wrist. I used it as an ashtray and I smoked a cigarette. I think that was the best cigarette of my life but I quit successfully one year later.

I had arranged to take a friend and neighbour of mine for a ride on my motorcycle so I just waited until she arrived. She freeked-out when she first saw me but then she drove me to the local Urgent Care Clinic. The doctor took an x-ray and told me to give it to the Orthopeadic surgeon at the hospital right away. The surgeon ordered a cat-scan and we looked at it together. He informed me that I would require surgery. I didn't want to be a pain in the neck but I told him that I could see the bones clearly and everything looked fine to me. Why would I need surgery? He replied very patiently "Well Sir, do you see this bone here? Well,...it shouldn't be there, it should be over here. It's the same with the second and third bones here, they belong over there...and if you don't let me fix them for you, you will develop severe arthritis and you will have difficulty walking later in life.

WOW!...I never thought of that, but I still didn't feel entirely comfortable about agreeing to the surgery and there was a long silent pause on my part. The doctor broke the silence by saying "What you have is a Lisfranc injury. This type of injury was very common on the battlefield in the Napoleonic era. Soldiers wounded on horseback would fall off their horses and one foot would get caught in the stirrups. They would then get dragged around the battlefield resulting in your kind of injury. More often than not, they would be crippled for the rest of their lives, if they survived." I was blown away! Here I am with an injured foot, and this guy is talking to me about injuries that horse-mounted soldiers get in battle? I said to myself, "This is my kind-a-guy! He can operate on me anytime". I agreed to the surgery.

I lost the spring, summer and fall of 2004. I used a combination of crutches, wheel-chair and motorized-scooter to get around. I heeled well and my foot re-gained its former strength. In September the surgeon removed the three screws that he had implanted. But, I was not able to ride my motorcycle until the following year. I thought it was a heavy price to pay for one moment's stupidity and lack of attention. I acquired a new talent, however, following this experience. My foot can now tell me when its going to rain better than any weather forecast.