My old friends and teammates will remember my notorious feet with toes so crooked I could hang upside down by them. Back in high school in Sterling, Illinois my podiatrist, Doctor Heffelfinger, gave me my first foot orthoses. He also showed me how to tape each toe to prevent blisters from forming between my phalanges when playing basketball.
Forty years later, I am still doctoring my crazy feet. Dr. Drevo, my podiatrist in Geneva Switzerland, hand crafted custom-made foot orthotics to help my balance, relieve back pain and slow the progression of Ledderhose Disease. Ledderhose disease (also known as Morbus Ledderhose or plantar fibromatosis) causes nodules to develop in the arches of my feet, which can become painful or grow to a size where they affect walking.
Not surprisingly, my foot doctor also diagnosed Dupuytren’s Contracture, which is similar, because the same type of cords and nodules formed in my hands.
Ledderhose and Dupuytren’s Contracture, known as the Viking Diseases, target the fascia. According to International Dupuytren Society.
"Dupuytren's Contracture is a chronic, progressive fibroproliferative disorder affecting the palmar fascia, leading to permanent flexion deformities of the fingers.”
Typically the ring and pinky finger become permanently locked in bent position.
The condition is more common in Northern European countries where the Vikings settled (hence its nickname.) Typically there, it afflicts about 30% of men over the age of 60 and seems to run in families.
As the daughter of a Norwegian mom and Scottish dad ancestry, I am genetically 89% Scandinavian and Northern European. Key genetic risk factors for Dupuytren's crippling hand disorder can be traced back to Neanderthals’ DNA.
Over the past few years, thanks to Dr. Drevo, my foot condition is under control, but the collagen overgrowth went wild, especially in my left hand.
Only 5% of patients with Dupuytren contractures have similar lesions in the medial plantar fascia of the feet. Lucky me!
At my podiatrist’s appointment in May, I showed Dr. Drevo my bent fingers and crippled hand. He recognized the cords of fibrous tissue puckering under the skin of the palm as Dupuytren’s Contracture and urged me to follow up with a hand specialist right away.
At the Hand Clinic of Geneva, I met Dr. Vakalopoulos who asked, “Would you prefer I speak French, English, Dutch or Greek?”
When he described the complex dissection required to prevent digital nerve injury, it helped that he spoke English. He drew lines across my left hand and explained that he would cut into my palm to remove the chords in my palm and pinky. Unfortunately, my disease had advance too far for him to perform a simpler needle aponevrotomy.
The day after surgery, he confirmed with relief that I retained the sensation in my fingertips.
“The surgery was more difficult than I anticipated,” he said. “You have an aggressive form of 
Dupuytren’s and the collagen had formed spirals around the nerves in the finger joint.”
Dr. V removed the fast growing collagen forming tough bands in the connective tissue of my hand. Two weeks later, in my follow up appointment, after the nurse removed my bandages, Dr. V inspected his delicate artwork. Fifty-eight stitches zig zagged across my palm and pinky.
“That scar would make a great jigsaw puzzle,” my brother-in-law kidded when he saw a photo of my hand.
On the bright side, I retain bragging rights in my extended Olson, McKinzie, Lechault, Carlson, Miles, Westphal, Zhang family. I hold the record for the most stitches. It will be hard to beat!
Never to be discouraged, I wear my scar like a badge of courage. I show off my left hand as a visual reminder of my proud heritage.
After all, I am a Golden Warrior Viking.
Yeah! I made it. Another birthday. Another year.
will increase the speed and incline on the treadmill.”
Nooooo, I’m going to be sucked up by the roller.
As an athlete, coming of age in the 70s during Title IX’s infancy, the explosion of women’s basketball today blows my mind.
So did my little sister.
On August 24, 2024, at Minnesota’s Target Center, as I sat on the upper level of the packed arena, pandemonium erupted as fans paid tribute to their past hero and applauded the exploits of their present star, both catalysts in revolutionizing the popularity of the women’s game.
Thanks to Title IX, a girl grows up never questioning her right to be all she can be.
After the game, Maya Moore Irons addressed former teammates and fans as they raised her number 23 to the rafters. Known for her illustrious MVP career, Maya stands out most, not for her accolades on the court, but for the person she is off it.
I don’t have a regular post this week, but I have been working on an issue that weighs heavy on my heart and is important for everyone.
Half a century ago, no one paid any attention when my friends and I played basketball. We got kicked off the court, but shoved our way back in the game, clearing the lane for Caitlin Clark, Angel Reese, Paige Bueckers, Juju Watkins and the contemporary stars of today.
In the sixties, in my own second grade story I wrote about the lockers playing a basketball game against the waste baskets during recess. Back then, I imagined inanimate objects in school had a greater chance of competing in the game than girls. Yet, like my sports loving peers, we shot hoops anyway creating a path so new that no one envisioned its existence.
