One year since the break...

Its going to be almost 1 year to the day that life changed because of a broken ankle. Even now when I look and think back to that period, I don't know whether to smile or frown at the memory of it all....knowing how much of goodness came from that time. I am reading back on those 60 comments that I received from so many of you, telling me consistently this one thing....that I will make it. You were right. I did. One year later and I can really say that with some confidence.

It really was a period of imposed rest. It was very restful, once I stopped worrying about how things were going to be managed. And I stopped worrying, the minute so many others stepped in for my sake. That was the time we renewed our Blockbuster membership, and I watched at least 2 movies a day. That was the time, I wrote and felt and felt keenly on a lot of things, because the wave of emotion was that high. That was the time, I got back in touch with my embroidery and used a lot of that time to put colourful threads to the needle and watch my ideas take form. That was the time, I read and how. I gobbled up most every book that came my way (thanks UTBT, there is still a lump in my throat when I think of your goody of a parcel!). And when I couldn't find books, I found the online versions instead and read the entire Twilight saga in the stretch of a week. That was the time I made plans for all that I would do when I could walk again. I think the desire to train to run was also rekindled around the same time. That was the time, when life also became segmented into...before the fracture (b.t.f.) and...after. 


Today, one year and counting, I am healed. Though not in that complete way, where not even a twinge of pain or stiffness or discomfort is felt from time to time. It is true. Once broken, some tiny sliver of a crack is always there. The x-ray may show it otherwise, but the sensation speaks differently. Still, if I am in a position today where I can run a mile without pausing to catch a breath, then I have truly come a long way from the days even b.t.f. But one decided aftermath of this is the way I approach a flight of stairs. Every instinct in my body screams at me to slow down and measure every step I take, especially when it is an unfamiliar one, my hands reaching out to the side to hold onto something for support, every caution exercised to stay firmly on ground. And whenever I see anyone in crutches or cast or wearing that big black duck boot, my heart goes out in a state of extreme empathy and compassion, understanding acutely what they must be enduring physically, their pain mine, for that single, connected moment...

Walk safe everyone. Climb safe. Run safe. Stay safe. And eat your calcium. Your bones are yours to love.