When I was growing up, I never broke a bone. A few scrapes hear and there, but nothing serious. I used to play with ace bandages and a pair of crutches that were around the house, but that was just for fun.
Unfortunately, now that I'm 34 I get to experience a cast. And I'll tell you, it is no fun at all. On Sunday I fell down a small hill that was covered with loose gravel. It all happened so fast, one minute I was walking and the next minute I was on the ground. I twisted my left ankle underneath my body, landing solidly on it. I'll skip the visit to the emergency room and the subsequent visit to an orthopedist, and I will tell you where I am now.
I fractured my fibula, a vertical break right up the bone. I also chipped my talus bone, which may be more of a problem. The fibula should heal fine, and maybe the talus will too - but if not, I may require surgery to remove the chipped bone. I'm in a cast that goes from right below my knee all the way to my toes. I have an MRI on Thursday so my doctor can get a better image of the injury.
I wish I could say I was optimistic, that I felt that everything would be ok. But being confined to the house with my leg elevated for at least a week, having to crawl up and down the stairs since our bathroom is on the second floor, I feel depressed and alone. I've always prided myself on being independent, but now I can't even carry a glass of water across the room. I have no appetite, and my ankle hurts alot but I don't want to switch over to a stronger painkiller than Advil. To add insult to injury, our normally quiet apartment is filled with noise since a crew is here replacing some pavement. I hope they are done soon.
So I've been in the cast for about a day, and it feels like an eternity. I daydream about taking a hot shower, putting on two shoes, being able to walk up stairs. I want to be able to bake a loaf of bread, take a walk in this beautiful spring weather with David. I want my life back. But I still have at least 29 days to go.
This would have been our 6th year walking in the AIDS Walk next weekend, and we were going to go to San Francisco for Dave's birthday at the end of May. I got SF Giants tickets, had reserved a great room at the W, and we were planning out all of our meals. I have never been to San Fran, and had been looking forward to the trip for months.
Maybe I'll get used to it, maybe I'll be able to at least go back to work and feel more like myself. In the meantime, maybe talking about it will help my heart heal faster than my bones.