chair dancing

I had the worst night's sleep so far last night (hence the delayed blog entry) because the boot, I think, was "stretching" muscles in directions they had forgotten in the last month and causing me sharp pains and aches. I got up this a.m. and took off the boot, icing the ankle and that felt good. Later, I took a shower and let the warm water wash over my stitches and gently patted my leg dry with a towel, rebooted, but kept the sock (not ace bandage) and boot a bit looser which I think helped.

I did get myself to the school to read to the kids: felt a bit woozy at the outset but as we got into the flashbacks of Indigo, Westley, and Fessick, the storylife of "The Princess Bride" dominated the time and I could let my aches and pains go for awhile.

Aches and pains: another potential terrorist strike in NY, a flood in Nashville, continued gallons of oil spilling into the Louisiana coastline. Our earth, our soul, is full of aches and pains. I can only let in so much toxic news and then I shut down: my chest becomes heavy with sorrows. I have detached so much for everything but my ankle--my son, my work, my writing. I stay minimally engaged through my women friends and reading. It's all so weird. The way the days are stretching out into summer and the way my days speed by with so little "getting done."

I have very little inspiration in me for anything; I feel like a dry well.

But it's only 2 weeks post surgery and I have at least, now I understand, two more months of this delicate dance I seem to be doing each day: eat, poop, hobble, rest, read, write, sleep.

A couple of days ago, I was listening to "Mamma Mia" music while eating dinner and I started to move in my chair. Mark called it "chair dancing." I guess that's the high point of my life right now: chair (or sofa) dancing. Oh, well. At least some body parts can still move.