The latest episode of Book Riot’s SFF Yeah discussed Characters Who Make Us Feel Seen, and I decided to wander down the path of what fictional characters am I most like?

I had an extremely hard time coming up with SFF characters, because I very feel rarely like the characters you find in SFF books. There might be bits and pieces that fit perfectly, but as a whole? Not so much.

Mysteries were even harder, because although I am ridiculously curious, I am anxious, so I couldn’t sneak into a house where people were sleeping or walk into a situation and confront people.

I had a far easier time with characters from romance novels, probably because I read a lot of books with broken or struggling characters. I’ve read many books in recent years that have resonated deeply with me–far more than any other genre.

So here are some characters who make me feel seen.

Murderbot, from the Murderbot series by Martha Wells.

Obviously not the murdering parts, but often something Murderbot says will hit me like a punch.

“Why don’t you want us to look at you?”

My jaw was so tight it triggered a performance reliability alert in my feed. I said, “You don’t need to look at me. I’m not a sexbot.”

Murderbot exists to protect people, to help people, but it doesn’t want to have to directly deal with people, and it really doesn’t want to have to make conversation.

I didn’t want to be stuck in a chair within easy unwanted talking range.

Interacting meant talking, and eye contact. I could already feel my performance capacity dropping.

Murderbot also loves comfort reading / watching.

(T)here wasn’t time to start anything new before we reached the station. (Being interrupted isn’t nearly as annoying when I already know the story.)

The first book, All Systems Red, might only have 150 pages, but I have 60 passages highlighted.

(If I got angry at myself for being angry I would be angry constantly and I wouldn’t have time to think about anything else.) (Wait, I think I am angry constantly. That might explain a lot.)

Discworld by Terry Pratchett

I decided there had to be at least one character in Discworld who I felt like. I came up with two: The DEATH OF RATS and The Librarian.

The Librarian has a strong sense of justice and a love of books, is typically misunderstood, and is fine with who he is and resists any attempts to change him into a human.

The Librarian rolled his eyes. It was strange, he felt, that so-called intelligent dogs, horses and dolphins never had any difficulty indicating to humans the vital news of the moment, e.g., that the three children were lost in the cave, or the train was about to take the line leading to the bridge that had been washed away or similar, while he, only a handful of chromosomes away from wearing a vest, found it difficult to persuade the average human to come in out of the rain. You just couldn’t talk to some people.

The DEATH OF RATS is often silly, coming up with ridiculous ideas.

NO, YOU CAN’T RIDE A CAT. WHO EVER HEARD OF THE DEATH OF RATS RIDING A CAT? THE DEATH OF RATS WOULD RIDE SOME KIND OF DOG.

Neither is a main character, but both make themselves felt when around, and both enjoy what they do.

Cooper Dayton from the Big Bad Wolf series by Charlie Adhara

I’m not brave and would make a terrible secret agent, but things Cooper says and thinks are things that have gone through my mind repeatedly.

Cooper wondered who he’d be without any of the negative experiences of his life. Was it even worth asking?

“I’m sorry,” Cooper blurted. His heart was beating hard, but fuck it, what were they here for if not this?

Park looked at him. He had that same odd look on his face he’d had when they first got to Jagger Valley that looked so much like nerves, but a little hopeful, too. “For what?”

“Everything. Well, for earlier, and for being, you know, me.” Cooper laughed awkwardly.

“What the hell, Dayton,” Park said, sounding angry. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”

(Both quotes from The Wolf at Bay.)

I try to hear Park being angry when I find myself apologizing for being me.

the frustration that came from relearning what he could and couldn’t do for the second time in less than two years threatened to tip him over the edge from restlessness into depression.

Not two right on top of one another, but I’ve had a life-altering injury, and I know how much hard work it takes to come back from that, and to learn the new ways your body works (or doesn’t).

Sam from Play It Again by Aidan Wayne

With Sam, we get closer to things that mirror my life–and not just working at an IT help desk.

(W)ith his job being IT, there were often good reasons he came home having exhausted his social-skill quota for the day and was only up to playing some games or reading a book before crashing. Books and video games also didn’t yell at you, or snidely act as though you were a waste of space.

(T)alking on the phone gave him enough anxiety as it was. Never knowing whether a call might turn nasty made him dread it every time he was given a ring.

To be clear, I love helping people and working help desk type positions when the users were polite and nice, but even a single rude or horrible person can ruin my day and send my thoughts spiraling.

I’m a vegetarian. I don’t mind if other people aren’t of course, it’s not my job to regulate, but it’s my own difference I’m making, yeah? I’m a gentle soul, really. I can’t even squash bugs; I try to catch them and take them outside. No reason to harm a spider if there isn’t need, after all. And they’re such good bugs, spiders are. I mean arachnids. And sorry, there I seem to have gone off on a tangent.

I feel like this is something I may actually have said, right down to the spider tangent.

People in general made Sam nervous, but he’d mentioned a few times how he was “slightly bothered” by crowds especially, particularly noisy ones. He’d said it in the same offhand way Sam used to downplay all the things that made him unhappy or caused him distress.

Fred the Vampire Accountant series by Drew Hayes

Like Discworld, I thought through the characters in the Fred the Vampire Accountant series to see if anything clicked, and decided I am most like Alfred and Charlotte.

Charlotte because she likes taking care of people and is also extremely protective of those who living within her, and Alfred because he’s kind and as much of a pacifist as he can be. Also, he frequently misses social cues.

Zach from That Kind of Guy by Talia Hibbert (Ravenswood)

Zach has learned to recognize the ways he puts others first–even to doing things he didn’t like.

In truth, Zach was a messy fucker who resented his own compulsion to fill in other people’s gaps but couldn’t make himself stop.

What he did feel was a familiar tug in his chest, that nagging pull he always experienced when faced with someone who needed something. It was an urgent whisper he couldn’t ignore: You’re the only one people can rely on. That makes it your duty to help.

UGH. I recognize that pull, and how hard it is to stop doing things you don’t want to solely to please those around you. It’s ridiculously hard to say no when you’ve said yes for so long.

(H)e’d made himself a promise, recently. One designed to break his habit of handing out Yeses he didn’t mean.

That is a far harder thing to do than you’d think–people assume you’ll do as they ask, and get mad when you don’t, so you have to come up with reasons and excuses, which is exhausting.

Ruth from A Girl Like Her by Talia Hibbert (Ravenswood)

Like Zach, Ruth makes me feel seen.

She wasn’t graceful. She was, in fact, the opposite of graceful. He worried for her safety once every five seconds at least. When she poured half of the hot water onto the counter, he was only surprised that she didn’t scald herself in the process.

She rolled her eyes and picked up the mugs. He deftly took them from her and carried them into the living room, as if she wasn’t capable of handling it herself. True, she usually spilled tea everywhere. But her balance would never get better if she didn’t practice.

Spoiler: practice doesn’t help.

Ruth disliked phone calls—it was hard to really hear someone’s words, when you couldn’t see their face

Ruth realised that she was rubbing her own hands—wringing them, people said—and made herself stop, even though the action was calming.

It’s so affirming to see someone else deal with things I thought were my own quirks.

Now she didn’t know if she should laugh or gasp. She compromised by choking on her own spit.

Yes, I’ve done that too.

Clem from An Unseen Attraction by K.J. Charles (Sins of the Cities)

I have reread this book multiple times and have more than 80 highlights, mostly of Clem.

Look me in the eyes, boy! had been a constant refrain at school, but they said the eyes were the windows to the soul, and Clem didn’t feel comfortable peering into people’s windows.

Rowley had thought at first the beast had no name; it had taken him a while to understand that it had a perfectly good, descriptive name to which it was as likely to answer as any other, and that name was Cat. There was something terribly Clem about that.

I annoyed a friend as a kid, because I didn’t give my stuffed animals “real” names.

“But, but—” Clem flailed a hand. Mark snatched his pint out of the way.

There is a reason people do not set their drinks near me.

He’d spent his life carefully not looking into an abyss of rage like the pit of hellfire he’d so often been told awaited pagans, because if he ever really looked, he feared he might be angry forever.

Jordan from Upside Down by N.R. Walker

Jordan is another character that makes me feel seen on multiple levels.

My phone beeped in my hand and I tripped over my own feet, almost falling to the ground but catching myself just in time. “Motherfucker.”

I mean.

Geek also probably fits, though mostly for Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. I mean, the other Star Treks are fine and I don’t disparage anyone for liking them—Janeway and Picard are credible—but I just prefer Sisko as my captain,

“There has to be a reason you picked Sisko.”

He smiled at me and seemed to relax before launching into a spiel on consistency and compassion and how Sisko’s being a father in the show made him more relatable.

The only way that would have been better was if Garak had also been brought up.

“Good afternoon,” he said, grinning as I walked up to take my seat.

“Top of the day to you, kind sir,” I replied, for no other reason than I’m an idiot.

Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh. I do that all the time.

“We had the early learning kids in today. That’s always fun, if not rather loud, but I like reading to them. I make it exciting and interactive so they all think books and reading time is amazing, so I’m like a superhero to them. And being a superhero to a bunch of three-year-olds is a civic responsibility I take very seriously.”

I love finding a book that a kid loves almost as much as I love making them enthusiastic about things and pointing out wonders they might not have noticed.

Bonus Quotes

Some passages floor me every time I read them.

“You’ve been through a lot today,” he said. “There’s no need to diminish it.”

“Yeah, but if I don’t diminish things I have to face them at their normal size, and that’s horrible.”

— Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall

(H)e’d effectively removed the stressor I carried with me every minute: the fear that if I had to choose, I would choose wrong and something terrible would happen.

— Rend by Roan Parrish

It would be nice to believe in something like God. To believe some higher power with a greater purpose was concealed behind the violence and chaos.

—Come Unto These Yellow Sands by Josh Lanyon

This is the story of my life: standing on the edges of things and worrying, when I’m supposed to just walk through them.

— Waiting for the Flood by Alexis Hall

“I’m more interested in someone’s excitement over something they have just discovered, than someone’s smug, pompous insistence that there is a right and a wrong way to learn to love something.”

— Hottie Scotty and Mr. Porter by R. Cooper

I keep having thoughts I didn’t authorise.

— Work for It by Talia Hibbert

I’ve reached the point in life where very few people my age haven’t been laid up with an in injury or serious illness at some point, so they are in our conscious now. And disability (either in ourselves, friends or family members) is also something with which we have become familiar.become

But even when I was younger, I knew about these things from reading.

And I knew those TV shows and movies where the hero is knocked in the head and jumps right up, or is shot and walking around by the end credits were bullshit.

Recovery takes time. And you don’t always get back what you had before. So you learn to cope and accept these changes are the new normal.

When I think about injury and recovery, the book that always jumps immediately to mind is Robert B Parker’s Small Vices.

In chapter 35 Spenser is shot and goes into the “not quite frozen” river. In Chapter 36, Spenser, Hawk, and Susan drive across the country, where Spenser will spend more than half a year recovering.

What astounds me every time is that in three chapters you fully get the sense of how much work Spenser had to do—and how long it took him to do it.

About a quarter mile from the house was a hill that went up sharply at right angles to the much gentler hill we lived on. Each morning, Hawk and Pearl and I walked up to the foot of the hill and looked at it. Actually Pearl dashed. Hawk walked. I shuffled. But after the first week I shuffled without holding on. Pearl would race up the hill, barrel chested and wasp waisted. Bred to run for hours, she rubbed it in every day, looking puzzled that I couldn’t do at all what she did so effortlessly.

— Robert B Parker, Small Vices, Chapter 37

 

“Here we go,” I said.

We started up. I was half dragging my left leg. Hawk walked slowly beside me. On the right there was a lemon grove, the wet fruit glistening among the green leaves. Nobody seemed to be harvesting it. The fruit was yellow and heavy on the trees and littered the ground, some of it rotting beneath the trees. I was gasping for breath. I looked up and the mailbox was still thirty yards away.

“No reason not to stop and rest,” Hawk said.

I nodded. I looked back. The wet black road surface gleamed. I was twenty yards up the hill and I couldn’t talk. We stood silently together in the steady rain. I was wearing an Oakland A’s baseball cap, and white New Balance sneakers, jeans, and a bright green rain jacket that Susan said was the ugliest garment she’d ever seen legalized. In the left-hand pocket the Detective Special weighed about two hundred pounds.

“How . . . high . . . is . . . this . . . hill?”

“Never measured it,” Hawk said. “Takes me ’bout ten minutes to walk up, five minutes to run.”

— Robert B Parker, Small Vices, Chapter 38

 

Hawk and I went up into one of the canyons back in the hills and began to shoot. I held the gun in both hands, though my left was doing all the work, and I was able to level it mainly by pulling my right arm up with my left. My only success was that I didn’t shoot myself. I was up to five-pound dumbbells. With my right arm I was actually moving the weight, curling it maybe halfway so that my forearm was at right angles to my biceps.

— Robert B Parker, Small Vices, Chapter 39

 

Chapter 39 ends with this:

One morning I ran up the hill. All the way.

— Robert B Parker, Small Vices, Chapter 39

 

Then we’re back to the mystery.

But in those three chapters—27 pages—you can feel just how far Spenser had to go to recover, and just how hard he had to work to achieve that recovery. I’ve read (and listened) to that book more times than I can count, and every time I am shocked by how short the recovery chapters really are, because in the story I feel the work and the struggle and the time.

 

Charlie Adhara’s Big Bad Wolf series also does a good job of showing the aftermath of a life-changing injury.

Prior to the start of the story, Cooper took three slashes to his abdomen, with permanent damage to his digestive system.

He was supposed to eat small meals frequently throughout the day to allow his shortened small intestine to absorb the necessary amount of nutrients, but it was hard to do on the road. Cooper didn’t want to draw attention to himself as weak or, god forbid, stopping everything when a boy was missing so that he could get a snack. His guts would just have to deal.

— Charlie Adhara. The Wolf at the Door

What I appreciate so much about this story is that not only does this problem not disappear from the series, it’s appearance in subsequent books shows you glimpses of Cooper and Oliver’s relationship.

Ever since then Park had been hyper-vigilant that Cooper was getting enough nutrition. He often cooked him little omelets in the morning before Cooper woke, had started researching supplements and vitamins he thought Cooper should take, and packed snacks for him on cases as if he was a child.

— Charlie Adhara, The Wolf at Bay

 

They’d fallen into a habit of Cooper shopping and Park cooking since if left to his own devices Cooper often went weeks uninterested in meals that required more than three or four steps, his relationship with food having changed a lot since his gut had been torn up and he’d spent months not being able to eat “real” food.

— Charlie Adhara. Cry Wolf

Cooper’s life was irrevocably changed after the attack, but it goes on. Although he changes jobs, he remains capable of doing the work he loves. (This series also shows Cooper doing the work of realizing he has PTSD from his attack and then slowly—slowly—getting better.)

Plus, action, mystery, and werewolves. What’s not to love?

Neither of these books dwells on the subject, but they make it clear that being in a dangerous line of work can lead unexpected (and unwanted) life changes.

I’ve also found that scenes while someone is recovering can further the characters and the story.

Mercy Thompson was badly hurt fighting a monster.

“And do you know, when you have a broken hand and a giant cut under your arm, crutches don’t work, and neither does a wheelchair unless you have a minion to wheel you around. My good hand is burnt, so I can’t even turn circles.”
…
I was tired of everyone, which was ungracious of me. But I don’t like being dependent— it makes me cranky. I needed someone to carry me upstairs and downstairs. I needed someone to help me outside and inside. I even needed someone to help me into the bathroom because none of the bathroom doors were big enough for a wheelchair.

— Patricia Briggs, River Marked

Which is followed by this:

“Mercy,” (Stefan) said gently. “It’s not that they don’t want to help— they can’t. You’ve told them all to leave you alone. With Adam gone, you’re the highest power in the pack, and they can’t gainsay you. Warren told me that they were down to leaving you with pack members he couldn’t be happy about.”

That had never occurred to me. And explained why Auriele and Darryl hadn’t been back, even after I’d sent them an e-mail apologizing for yelling at them. I know e-mail apologies are lame, but it was the only way I could be sure not to grump at them some more.

“You need to tell them they can come back to the house and talk to you— and help you do whatever you need. Just as you would help them if they needed it.”

— Patricia Briggs, River Marked

That scene is powerful because we learn about how the pack works, and also because we see Mercy bend and accept help from those around her.

The pain of a major injury is awful, but in some ways, being completely dependent upon others is harder. It’s an important reminder we do not exist in isolation and it’s not just okay to ask for help when you need it—it’s important to do so.

And that goes for mental health as well as physical health.

 

Then there is concussion.

 

There is more awareness than there was two decades ago, but the fastest way for a book to piss me off is for a character to be knocked unconscious and then all but jump up and dive right back into danger.

A concussion isn’t a convenient plot point.

“(T)he thing is, you’ve suffered a concussion. That’s a brain injury. In your case, the injury appears to be mild, but symptoms can manifest even several days after the traumatic event.”

“I know. I run a mystery bookstore. Ninety percent of injuries suffered by characters in mysteries are concussions.”

Dr. Mane laughed, although Ellery was being serious. “Sure, but it’s not like in the books or in movies. Your brain needs time to heal, which can take seven to fourteen days. Ten is the average.”

“Ten days?” Ellery gaped at him.

“On average.”

— Josh Lanyon, Mystery at the Masquerade

 

They were given a long list of things Martin couldn’t do for a couple of weeks with his concussion, which included reading or looking at anything on a screen.

— Ada Maria Soto, His Quiet Agent

I am glad we are better educated about the dangers of concussion—both short term and long term consequences. But we still need regular reminders that head injuries are serious and can takes days, weeks, or even months to recover from.

And ignoring the doctors’ restrictions can lead to further injury or even death.

Sure, it’s not really fund and exciting to have a character in the hospital, or going through a long, slow recovery, but it’s a reminder for us that injuries aren’t something to be taken lightly. A reminder that we continue to learn and grow even when we can’t do things on our own.

The trouble with having a limp was that it was nearly impossible to execute a proper stomping. That wasn’t the only trouble, of course, but it was the inconvenience that most vexed Evie at present.

— Alissa Johnson, McAlistair’s Fortune

Another thing many of these books—especially romances—show is how some of the mechanics of sex may need to change after a serious injury, but those physical changes don’t end the sex life of the characters. Being me, that’s about all I want to say on the subject, but it is an important aspect of life, and putting such discussions and scenes in books is important because it lets people see that their physical changes aren’t an end, just a change.

Injury and recovery are a part of life, so I’m always glad to see them in fiction.

 

 

---

 

Main Characters

– Romance –

His Quiet Agent (2017) Ada Maria Soto, concussion

Merlin in the Library (2018) Ada Maria Soto, concussion

McAlistair’s Fortune (2009) Alissa Johnson (Providence Series) injury (accident)

Connection Error (2016) Annabeth Albert (#gaymers) amputation (war)

Arctic Wild (2019) Annabeth Albert (Frozen Hearts) injury (accident)

The Soldier’s Scoundrel (2016) Cat Sebastian (The Turner Series) injury (war)

Whiteout (2017) Elyse Springer (Seasons of Love) concussion (accident)

Sympathy (2009) Jordan Castillo Price injury (accident)

 

– Fantasy –

Widdershins, (2006) Charles de Lint, injury (attack)

Charlie Adhara‘s Big Bad Wolf series, injury (attack)

The Wolf at the Door (2018), The Wolf at Bay (2018), Thrown to the Wolves (2019), Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing (2020), Cry Wolf (2021)

River Marked (2011) Patricia Briggs (Mercy Thompson) injury (attack)

 

– Mystery –

Lessons in Discovery (2009) Charlie Cochrane (Cambridge Fellows) concussion (accident)

Madison Square Murders (2021) CS Poe (Momento Mori) concussion (attack)

A Dangerous Thing (2002) Josh Lanyon, concussion

Somebody Killed His Editor (2009) Josh Lanyon (Holmes & Moriarity) concussion

Requiem for Mr. Busybody (2020) Josh Lanyon, injury (accident)

Mystery at the Masquerade (2021) Josh Lanyon (Secrets & Scrabble) concussion (attack)

Lissa Kasey‘s Haven Investigations series, concussion (attack)

Model Exposure (2017), Model Investigator (2017)

Small Vices (1997) Robert B Parker (Spenser) injury (attack)

Skin and Bone (2002) TA Moore, concussion (attack)

 

Why Representation in Books Is Important
Mental Health Representation in Books: Depression
Mental Health Representation in Books: Anxiety
Mental Health Representation in Books: PTSD
Mental Health Representation in Books: Addiction and Eating Disorders
 

Today is Broken Ankle Day.

It’s strange, how one single step could have changed not just my life permanently, but also the lives of others so drastically.

For me, there is the obvious change–I live with regular aches and pains associated with the hardware that remains screwed into my bones.

But it was the other, less obvious changes, that had an even greater impact.

After I returned home from the hospital, it was glaringly obvious that Michael couldn’t take care of me and help Grandmom with her day-to-day things. So on the 16th, she packed some bags and my parents drove her to my aunt’s house, where we figured she’d stay until I was (literally) back on my feet.

Then Grandmom fell and broke her femur, and things changed yet again.

She spent months in rehab, and we were suddenly traveling to the DC area every three to four weeks. We eventually realized that Grandmom wouldn’t be coming back to live with us, and that meant changes for my aunt and uncle, as they arranged their home and lives for her.

I never thought, that Friday evening, as a grabbed my camera and went out to take some pictures of flowers, that my life would change so drastically with a single step.

And that’s what I try to remember today. Not the pain, not missing Grandmom (well, ok, there is that), but the realization that things can change in an instant. We cannot fully control our lives, and we can never take back things once they have happened.

We can only accept them–the good and the bad–and move on, making the best of what we have.

After all, if Grandmom hadn’t been in VA, I’d never have taken my two favorite pictures of her, and my memories of those days.

So, on Broken Ankle Day, I have no regrets, only acceptance.

I love you and miss you Grandmom.

(loud thumping noise)
“What was that? What happened?
“I just slipped on the stairs. No big deal.”
“Oh! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I spilled water all over. I’m sorry.”
“Oh my gosh, are you SURE you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Really. It’s okay. Let me get something to clean up that water.”
“You don’t have to do that; are you sure you aren’t hurt?”
“Nope. Really. I’m fine.”

You wanna know the funny thing? I wasn’t really lying too much.

And yet, for some reason, I am petrified of hurting myself. I have this terrible fear it’s going to hurt A LOT and I won’t be able to handle it.

You’d think, at this point, after everything, I’d realize I have a pretty high tolerance for pain.

NOTE: That’s the ankle I broke–it’s always a little swollen.

So, Monday I got x-rays taken, to make sure I hadn’t done any serious damage. The answer turned out to be that as far as the x-rays are concerned, there’s nothing wrong.

However, I did, apparently, manage to break one of the titanium screws they put in to hold the plate.

The ortho doctor I spoke to said that although this is not common, it’s also not unusual, and tends to happen when there is a tiny amount of movement over time.

However, the broken screw is nowhere near the area I’m having swelling and discomfort. In fact, there is nothing in the x-ray to indicate why I would be having any issues. But at least I know there is no reason I shouldn’t continue my normal activities. And I also know that the break did heal completely, so that’s something else good.

In theory, I’m resting and relaxing this week. Except that resting for me, means I’ve been walking more slowly and avoiding hills. I don’t seem to be getting much in the way of fewer steps.

And here is a pretty picture for you, in case you were interested in seeing how my ankle looks on the inside, two years later.

The broken screw is the lowest one on the plate, closest to my ankle. The two long screws on the other side, are the ones that ache all the time, especially when the weather changes. But that’s been a constant since the surgery, and nothing I’m worried about.

In May, it will have been two years since I broke my ankle. I have to say, that was one of the lousiest six week periods of my life: I broke my ankle, Michael’s Grandmother died, and Grandmom broke her femur. On the other hand, Jules and Lily were born during that period, so perhaps it wasn’t all horrible.

Last year, I adjusted my walking goal to try to get 8000 steps a day, and often didn’t make that. This year, I decided that I’d get back to aiming for a minimum of 10k steps five days a week, and try for more than that. Which I’ve been doing.

This past week, Michael and I started walking around the stadium area in the evenings, but I noticed that when going down hills, the bones in my ankle were occasionally grinding. So we rearranged our route to walk down the stairs and up the hill.

Last night as we were walking around town, I realized that the reason my ankle was grinding was because I was walking on the outside of my foot. Then I realized the reason I was walking on the outside of my foot was because walking normally was uncomfortable. Painful even.

Apparently my ankle isn’t 100% even now, so I’ll be cutting back on the steep hills, try to pay more attention to how I’m walking, and get off my damned feet at the end of the day.

Bah humbug.

My ankle has been bothering me for the past couple months, probably because of the amount of rain we’ve had.

So I did the obvious thing: bought myself two new pairs of boots!

Here’s the first–the second pair won’t arrive until next week.

I grabbed my camera and walked out the front door to take some pictures while we were waiting for our pizza to arrive. It was Friday, it had been a long week, and I was looking forward to relaxing.

Within a few steps, everything changed.

(more…)

Oh. No wonder my ankle has been making me miserable the past two days.

As much as I wished that the depression was completely gone from my life, it is a slow climb back up that hill to normalcy–or at least for me an even keel. The ankle is in some ways exacerbating it, since for years I’ve used aerobic exercise to ameliorate some of the symptoms of my depression, however, I’m not yet back to the point where I was a year ago. And, to be starkly honest, these things take time.

But sometimes, I don’t do myself any favors.

One of the things I requested was an anti-anxiety medicine for when I have an anxiety attack. It’s a medicine I take only as needed, and when I have taken it, it has worked well. (Huzzah for that!) Yesterday I had an anxiety attack. But instead of taking the medicine I have, I kept thinking, “it’s not that bad right now now, maybe it will lift on it’s own. Maybe I’ll just wait it out.” And thus last night I went into a nasty tailspin.

For me, the adrenaline causes me not just to want to get up and do something, but also mentally determine WHY I am anxious.

This may sound innocent enough, except that for my brain, the answer is always the same: a detailed listing of my faults and mistakes and errors culminating in the “realization” that I’m a horrible person and if everyone doesn’t hate me, they should.

Yeah. That’s just as fun as it sounds.

So today I’m dragging myself out of that pit and resolving to TAKE THE DAMNED MEDS next time an anxiety attack hits.

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.”

$30 for the CD, and it was totally worth it.

Top three x-rays were from May 14th, the day I broke my ankle.

Bottom two images were from July 30th, 11 weeks after the break.

No wonder my ankle still aches–guess I still do have a broken ankle.

Yup, it’s been twelve weeks since I broke my ankle.

Hard to believe, really, especially considering everything that has happened in the interim.

I had a big ugly cast, then I had ugly stitches. Then I got an awesome boot to go with the ugly brace.

I got the stitches out, and was briefly held together with tape. Then I went to no tape, but still no walking.

Then I was able to walk, had PT, finished with PT, and finally started to get on with my life again.

And that’s how things look today. Somewhat depressingly, the swelling hardly seems less than before I started walking, however, these pictures were taken at the end of the day, and after a hot shower, so the swelling isn’t quite that bad normally.

The swelling and acheyness will be with me for at least six more months, but there are times when I manage to forget I have a broken ankle (since I had a visible fracture last week, I do believe it can still be considered broken).

Mostly, however, I’m grateful that I am recovering so quickly, and have such wonderful friends and family to support me.

It’s now been 11 weeks since I broke my ankle.

Had another doctor appointment this morning, including more x-rays.

There’s still a visible fracture in the x-ray, however, he wasn’t worried about it as he could see where the bone has been and is being rebuilt. I’ll still have to deal with pain & swelling for the next six to eight months, but that is completely normal. He said it’s also fine more me to keep taking OTC pain killers as needed, which was reassuring. Having never broken anything before, I’ve been having a hard time gauging what is an acceptable level of pain and recover and swelling. I’m glad to hear everything is normal.

We discussed the possibility of taking the hardware out of my ankle, but as that would require another surgery (and I’d be off my feet AGAIN I figure) he said I should be fine with things the way they are, however, if I discover the plate and screws are bothering me, they can be taken out.

I go back to see him the beginning of October, but he is happy with my progress, and so am I.