When Will I Feel Normal After Breaking My Ankle?

I broke my ankle in April of 2013. It sucked. It sucked so completely, and for so long. Back then we didn’t have global pandemics or orange presidents or TikTok (hell, not even IG stories!) — so it was easy for this injury to feel like the actual worst thing in the world. I was in bed with my leg up for nearly 8 weeks, with all my pain, paranoia, and self-pity.

I know it seems ridiculous to say, given all the real, big problems that exist in the world. But the truth is, when you do it badly enough, breaking your ankle forces so many tiny inconvenient things into your life, so unexpectedly and urgently. And it’s all those tiny things, along with all the big things, that create palpable, overwhelming despair.

Surgery is scary — it’s drugs and IVs, it’s metal screwed to the inside of your body. Then it’s needing help to pee, needing every single thing brought to you, learning how to balance on one leg, ice on constant rotation, elevating nonstop even when you sleep. It’s bathing with your leg up and out, nausea, constipation, narcotics, full-body discomfort. Sharp pains, dull pains, numb pains, tingling pains. Day after day after day after day. Oh, and you’re not allowed to walk for weeks or months.

To all my broken ankle people reading this — I see y’all. And to the rest of you, watch where and how you step! Nobody is safe.

In my first few weeks of being non-weight-bearing and bed-ridden, I was a googling monster. We all are. And when I couldn’t find helpful, thorough, empathetic, patient-centered information, I decided to create my own. Over time, this blog + these YouTube videos led to me creating the ultimate broken ankle resource, WeBroken. But this isn’t an ad for the best broken ankle destination in the world! Nay, this is an answer to the most asked question in the world…from ankle breakers:

“When will I feel normal again?”

In the hundreds (thousands?) of emails, YouTube comments, blog comments, and DMs I’ve received over the years, this is by far the most common question. So I’m going to answer it here and now. It’s not a short read, because as you might imagine, “normal” means something different to everyone. And more importantly, normalcy is a journey, not a destination; you simply don’t go from being “not normal” to being “normal” from one day to the next.

So here we go, when you *might* start feeling normal, broken down by normalcy sub-topics — walking, emotions, and the ankle itself:

Walking: I can’t tell you when you’re going to walk again — that’s between you, your doc, and your PT. It has everything to do with your injury, your surgery, your fitness level, your ability to heal, your determination, your resources, your attitude, and so on. I broke the end of my tibia on the inside and the back, as well as my fibula, which is called a trimalleolar fracture. I got 2 plates and 9 screws with an ORIF surgery. I was non-weight-bearing for about 7.5 weeks, and was “walking” within about a month of taking my first steps. You can see that progression here.

As we all come to find out, though, just because you look good walking on the outside, it doesn’t necessarily mean you feel well walking on the inside. Those first few weeks of walking without crutches or the boot are unstable, tight, and achy. You still get swollen and have to ice and elevate, you may still have to hold railings on stairs, and you’ll likely still find times when you’re aware of every step.

But I’ll say this, at 16 weeks post-op, I basically did all the normal things I needed and wanted to, and felt relatively normal doing them. I drove to work, walked around all day, drove back, made a birthday dinner, went to a gathering with friends, visited a new baby at a hospital, I did pilates and yoga, and I took a trip to San Francisco.

Still though, my ankle was super tight, my range of motion felt frustratingly unsatisfying, and my hardware constantly bothered me. I was also still icing regularly, and started incorporating ankle ice baths.

So there you have it on the walking front — the normal and not-normal paradox.

Emotions: When it comes to your emotions and mental health, there’s a lot that doesn’t feel normal after an ankle trauma. The rollercoaster of emotions can continue to feel heavy and unpredictable for weeks and months. Even though I had a support system, I felt lonely, uncomfortable, pathetic, and bored. Every time I went from not being able to do something to suddenly being able to, I felt happy and unstoppable. But that happiness was fleeting and I inevitably felt defeated by something else. There were huge surges of hope, accompanied by sad plateaus and setbacks.

That said, I found my first emotional equilibrium about 6 months post-op, when nothing really rattled me too much. Then I had my hardware removal surgery at 9 months post-op, and went through the unpredictable emotions all over, but found my equilibrium once again about a month after.

How the ankle feels: Last but not least, the most basic way to answer this question is on a physical level — when will my ankle feel normal again? And even though this one has the most simple answer, I saved it for last because it’s likely not the news you want. From the experts I’ve spoken to (you can find those videos on WeBroken) and my own personal experience, a broken ankle that has undergone surgery will likely never feel the same — not the same as it once did, and not the same as the other ankle. Because while your bone can heal perfectly, even stronger than it once was, bone heals differently than muscle.

Bone heals to bone with bone, while muscle heals to muscle with “foreign” substances. In basic terms, the muscle heals with scar tissue, which is tight, weak, and less stretchy than muscle. And when the muscle experiences trauma and then gets immobilized, it gets super stubborn and cranky — your body has created these patches of scar tissue all around your foot/ankle/calf, and it won’t just go away on its own.

You have work to do in the short-term, and you’ll likely have to continue that work in an ongoing way. How? Well, lots of different ways: massage, acupuncture, cupping, gua sha, graston…there’s also a million ways to regain strength. There are too many healing approaches to name and all are valid to try. I feel like I’ve tried basically all of them.

That said, it’s not a “one-and-done” — ankle maintenance is an ongoing practice. When I stop, everything gets tight. My other ankle doesn’t do that.

So my answer to this one is: I believe my ankle will never be normal, which means there’s a chance yours won’t be either. But as a wise physical therapist once told me, you brush your teeth every day and don’t question regular dental hygiene. It’s the same with your ankle — you now must consider your ankle as regular physical maintenance and hygiene, along with the rest of your glorious body.

We all want to live long and well, and your ankle will likely need a little bit of extra love forever. So give your ankle some love today, and send it my love too.

Mihal, out.