Grrrrrrr! This morning I tripped on a step in my garage and badly sprained my ankle. I was heading out to buy the construction guys donuts (I know, not the healthiest treat, but I figured they’d be grateful). Obstacles had been left in my path (Hubby got an earful about that, but he’s now forgiven) and went down hard. I was also carrying in each hand a 1-gallon jug of industrial-strength vinegar, to store in the garage and use for natural weed killer. I immediately knew the consequences of such an accident, since this happens to me about every 10 to 15 years. Those consequences being it will be several weeks before I can put my full weight on my foot and walk normally. Not good for a person who relies on daily 3- to 4-mile walks for her mental and physical health.
When I was 13 I tore ligaments in my right ankle playing basketball at a friend’s house. Ever since then, my ankle has been weak and prone to giving out, even on flat ground for no reason. The last time this happened I had just started a 7-day work trip in Belize as a tour manager, about 14 years ago. I was walking with someone to see some captive black jaguars at a nature reserve, and the sidewalk took a sudden dip. Thankfully, another tour manager was on the trip and was able to cover for me while I hobbled around, unaided by medical equipment because, well, we were in the jungle.
This morning, I ranted and bawled and cussed when I first went down, like I said, knowing that I will be unable to walk properly for a while. I crawled to the basement and along the concrete floor to the freezer where my ice packs are (not so conveniently) stored. My sister came over later, bearing crutches purchased from Goodwill and some arnica to rub in. She also got me situated with various things I needed today, including harvesting some lettuce from the garden for my lunch. My ankle swelled to the size of a smallish baseball, and I’ve been sitting in my living room chair ALL DAY with it propped up and on ice. Swelling has subsided a bit; praying tomorrow’s doctor won’t tell me it’s fractured. In addition to crutches, I’ve been scooting around on my office chair (thank God for wood floors), which is good when you want to propel yourself faster and sit down at your destination.
When Hubby got home, I begged him to take me out for a drive. I do not do well sitting inside all day. We drove around the cemetery and a few neighborhoods. We also went to the grocery store because I felt I deserved Harris Teeter’s fried chicken for supper. (Does the electric cart make my butt look big?) Felt better after two wings, a leg, and a thigh, plus the last of a really great red wine I’ve been nursing all week.
Things I’ve learned today (or already knew but the point has been driven home):
- Crutches serve many purposes, including pointing to things you want to highlight in the conversation, holding open doors you’re trying to hobble through, opening cabinet doors, and gently tapping Hubby with it when you want his attention.
- I understand how Mom lost it, emotionally, being cooped up for more than a year in a small apartment and then a much smaller room, mobility impaired. Not that I didn’t already, but I now have MUCH more sympathy for Mom (who is out of quarantine now and in much spirits).
- Life can change in an instant, so be grateful for every single thing you have every day. Never take anything for granted.
- I’m really grateful for my ability to walk normally and look forward to being able to again someday soon.