Funny how some life changing events don’t seem to be so at the time.

When I fell on May 14th, I didn’t have a clue how much my life would change in the following months.

Of course there was being laid up for six weeks–that I knew when I came out of surgery–it was everything else that came as a surprise.

First, there is a lot of stuff going on that I’m not writing about, because it doesn’t involve just me, but one major thing is that my grandmother has been in Virginia with my aunt & uncle since the 16th of May, and while she was there she fell and broke her femur, and now we have no idea when (or if) she’ll return to Morgantown. That’s a major thing.

But there are little things as well.

I am a very active person (some might even classify me as hyperactive) so not being able to dash up and down the stairs or walk at warp speed is quite bizarre. And this led to the other unforeseen consequence: I gained weight, and it’s not coming off. It’s not a lot of weight, just enough that most of my pants are too tight and I need to go up a size, but since I was wearing nothing but skirts and sweats for six weeks, it did come as something of a shock. The fact I’m can’t get enough aerobic exercise to help me drop the weight was a little more unpleasant.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not obsessed about my weight, the most annoying thing is I need to buy new pants, and I hate shopping.

But this is the new normal for me.

I’m hesitant to mess with my diet too much, because the x-rays made it quite clear that I still have a lot of healing to do, and I am not going to do anything to jeopardize. So for now, I’m going to accept this as the way things are, and concentrate on doing what I need to so I can again run up and down the stairs and walk across the building at warp speed. Once I’ve reached that point, then I can worry about dropping a pants size.

After all, “If you haven’t got your health, then you haven’t got anything.”