eleven weeks

Eleven weeks ago today, the ladder fell on me, breaking and dislocating my ankle. This morning, I toddled (my new word to signify that I walk as if I were a toddler) from the bedroom to the breakfast table, albeit only about 25 feet. My ankle has a band of stiffness around it, mostly in the front and various twinges and sensations from time to time. It still swells up, but not as much, still is a different color than the left ankle/foot but not as deep ruddy as a week ago. I walked, in boot, from the car to and through Walgreen's yesterday. Each milestone is a "stretch", but having done it, I look for the next (modest) challenge. This is what ankle surgery recovery looks like for me. So far, knock loudly on wood, I haven't "slipped" backward, but since life doesn't flow in a straight line, if I have a day or time when I seem to be stuck, or even lose strength a bit, I hope I remember not to despair but to be aware, accept and act in a healthy way to regain my path.

Non physical recovery is similar, although instead of the not so subtle reminders of injury/weakness, I don't become aware until I get a strong message of vearing off the right path. It's easier to live in denial because the signs of slipping are subtle. This morning I was affected by a back spasm I had during the night. I was looking forward to two zucchini muffins we brought home from a restaurant. But they were hard as rocks. So, then, I acquiesced to toast and a fried egg. Mark, after thirty four years of marriage, still refuses to sprinkle a bit of salt on my egg and he does not know (or willing to try to know) how to test an egg for doneness (by poking the egg with a fork). I like my eggs hard; he likes his eggs soft. So I got a runny egg with my second choice toast. And I flipped out. Underneath the frustration is a lingering sense that he doesn't know or pay attention to me--that I feel emotionally abandoned. I have the same issue with Aron sometimes (and work colleagues). Obviously, this is a core issue. Next week I start sessions (originally planned for April) with a psychiatrist and although I thought I was going to see her about fear-of-aging issues, I think this abandonment pattern is another core element I need to explore.

One of the oddities of where I am, in public, with the ankle is that, in the past two weeks, I have been approached several times (at the Y, at lunch) by middle-aged/sixty year old men who a) want to know what happened to by leg and b) seem to want to linger to talk to me. There must be some kind of vulnerability in the boot that they sense and what else I don't know. But I don't dislike the attention, I admit. It's a kind of reverse vanity experience. I have done "full disclosure" with Mark about this, but it's an unexpected twist (no pun intended) to my ankle recovery.

Later today, I will try to drive. Now THAT will be interesting. It may take me another week or so to "get there", so I am keeping my expectations modest. But today will be another attempt to become whole again. That's an illusion, I know: the experience has altered my perceptions and time will tell if that alteration is superficial or deep.