It’s now been 10 weeks since I broke my ankle.

During the first six weeks, I knew how long it had been precisely, because I knew how long it would be before the doctor would let me put weight on my foot. The days and weeks were interminable and it seems as if the day would never arrive when I could actually walk again.

The past four weeks have gone past almost in a blur. I had to go to the calendar and count the number of weeks, because I wasn’t certain precisely how long it had been.

That, strangely enough, makes the bad days harder. The first weeks of recovery crawled by and I was aware of the passing of every day. Now, time has resumed it’s normal course and every once in awhile I forget that I am healing from a broken ankle, which makes it all the more frustrating when I am forcefully reminded of this fact.

Be that as it may, I am still continuing to heal well. Stairs are an issue only when I’m very tired or sore, and I am almost back up to normal walking speeds.

The leg is still weak, however, and I still need to lose the weight I put on during six weeks of forced inactivity. But I’m getting there. I can do the work I need to and I will get back to normal.

I just have to be patient.

These are the graphs from the software that comes with my pedometer. Orange is aerobic steps, orange and blue (or just blue if there was no aerobic) shows the total steps for that day.

Hooray for progress!

Here’s May. (Note that this chart also shows that I was having a hard time with my depression, and skipping the gym when I should not have.) Can you tell what day I broke my ankle?

Then June:

Now July. (On the 7th I forgot to put on my pedometer. on the 10th it accidentally went into the washing machine. Oops.)

It has been just over eight weeks since I broke my ankle.

Monday I had my last official PT appointment; she said she had never seen someone recover as quickly as I have from the breaks I had.

Yes, I still have work to do–my leg is still weak, and my sense of balance could use some work, but those are things I can continue on my own. I can walk up and down stairs without difficulty or feeling as if I am going to fall; I can walk distances without exceptional discomfort.

No, things are not perfect. My ankle still aches, and I’m still occasionally taking Tylenol, and it will be another four weeks until the bone is completely mended, but I am extremely happy with the progress I have been making, and if I needed more encouragement to stay in shape, I’ve got it right here.

That’s right, this was the big one. I’m now 40!

Does it feel any different? Oddly enough, yes. However, that is not due to my age as much as to the life changing experience of breaking my ankle and being off my feet for six very long weeks.

Several years ago I decided that my goal for my 40th birthday was to feel comfortable in my own skin–to like myself for who I am. I’d started on this goal before that (years of therapy will do that to you) but I still had to work myself up to it.

The first big hurdle was accepting my hair. Do I still sometimes wish I had more manageable hair? Of course. But it is what it is, it’s not going to change, so I learned to deal with it, and be happy with what I have.

Once I got past that, everything else seemed pretty easy in comparison.

I already had a regular exercise routine, and I continued with that routine–right up to breaking my ankle–but by taking care of myself physically, I take care of not just my physical health, but my mental health as well.

I also came to the conclusion that enjoying life was far more important that worrying about stupid stuff, such as my weight. If I want to eat a ridiculously high fat calorie laden dessert because it looks really really really delicious, then it doesn’t make sense to deny myself the occasional treat.

Of course that circles around to accepting myself for who I am. I am never going to have the skinny body I had at 18, but that’s a good thing. Because I’m not a teenager anymore and I feel far more comfortable in my curves than I did when I felt as if I was all bony elbows and knees.

Interestingly, my injury made me realize that I am in really good shape. I’ve always felt that because I don’t run or partake in more assertive forms of exercise that I’ve been cheating myself somehow. After discovering how quickly I am bouncing back from my injury I realized that what I have been doing is just fine for my–I don’t have to be able to run marathons I simply need to keep myself in shape and healthy. I’ve done that, so no more guilt about running or anything like that.

The hardest part has been accepting my screw-ups–and believing that not everything is my fault. Everyone messes up. When I do, it’s my job to own up to it and move on. It does me no good to beat myself up over what is past. I can hope that I won’t make the same mistakes, but I also know that my mouth often works faster than my brain, and so stupidity WILL occur. It just isn’t the end of the world.

The last thing I learned is that it’s okay to do things for myself. It is important to me to care for others, but I cannot do that if I’m a wreck myself.

Mind you, this doesn’t mean I think I’m perfect and done growing. Because I’m not (on both counts). But I am who I am. I accept that. I other people don’t like me–that’s their problem, not mine.

So happy birthday to me! I can’t believe I’ve made it 40 years!

Today I had my first PT appointment since being able to put weight on my foot. Six weeks and three days after breaking my ankle, I’m cleared to walk without crutches.

Things aren’t perfect–I’m still rolling a bit to the outside of my foot when I’m tired, and I have a lot of strength to regain, but I am doing really well–in fact, Corrie (the PT) was shocked at how well I was doing.

So yeah, I still have swelling, and yeah I still have aching, but those can be easily treated and getting back to normal is probably the best way to put that behind me.

So, yay me!

…and that’s just what I’m doing.

Friday I was allowed for the first time since my accident to put weight on my foot–I’d come prepared to the doctor’s appointment and actually had a shoe with me, so I walked out of the office–albeit with two crutches.

Once back at the house, I quickly abandoned both crutches, determining I didn’t need them in the house, however, when we’ve gone out, I’ve taken one crutch, just to be safe. After all, this is Morgantown, and we are not known for flat, even ground.

I’m still taking pain-killers. My ankle is still swollen, and and it’s still a little achey, as are the muscles I haven’t used in a month and a half. Not only does the tylenol allow me to remain comfortable, but when the aches recede into the background it is easier for me to make sure I am walking correctly–not limping or using a strange gait that would place strain upon my knees or hips.

I have to admit I’m a bit worried about how long I’ve been taking the pain-killers, but being able to walk normally without picking up an bad habits is important.

I broke my ankle.

Today, I’m back on two feet and walking!

HUZZAH!

Even ice hasn’t brought the swelling down very much.

I see the last percoset in my future tonight.

It’s been a very strange three weeks.

I suppose that is unsurprising all things considered, but what did surprise me is how it’s been strange.

First, I’ve had minimal pain from what you’d expect from “broken ankle” “broke both tibia & fibula” and “requires surgery.” This actually scared me for quite awhile, as I kept waiting for the “real” pain to kick in (something along the lines of what I felt during the X-Rays) but it never has. It was like waiting for the other shoe to drop–hard to relax because I kept waiting for the bad.

But what’s really strange is how it feels as is my life is on hold. I recognize that time is passing, as some major events have occurred in the past week, but as I go from work to home and few other places, the days run into one another and in my mind it’s still cool and comfortable at night as befits early May.

Instead, when I move from the house to the car or the car to work, I keep thinking, “good grief it’s hot,” as if it were not common for temperatures to be in the upper 80s at this time of year.

I suppose working half days contributes to it as well, as do the naps I tend to take when I come home from work–time passes, but I feel unaware of it’s passing, as if life is on hold till I can resume my normal schedule and activities.

I suppose in a way though my life is on hold. I am an active person–it’s not an unusual occurrence for me to walk 10k steps before leaving work (doesn’t happen on a daily basis, but it happens regularly enough) and right now I cannot walk anywhere. I am not exercising at all, and the trip from the car to my office is exhausting.

I plan to remedy the lack of exercise issue by learning exercises that do not use my leg, but those aren’t going to be aerobic exercises, and that just plain sucks.

I realize this injury is in no way the end of the world, that it’s simply a minor inconvenience compared to what many people live with on a day-to-day basis, but it’s frustrating because if this were a permanent injury (thankfully it isn’t but let me continue) I would be learning how to move on. I would be training myself to do tasks in a new way. As it is right now I’m just biding my time until I can put weight on my foot again, and doing my best not to re-injure myself.

I know I am lucky, and I truly appreciate that. But it doesn’t change my sense of disconnect from the world.

Spent most of today with my foot propped up, trying not to go stir crazy.

I am normally a very active person, and this enforced stillness is Not Fun. It was easy when I was on the pain meds and they made my sleepy, but I haven’t taken any pain medication (at all) since yesterday afternoon, so I’m not groggy and sitting still is… difficult.

I’m looking into exercise I can do that won’t put any weight on my lower leg, and I ordered a yoga mat & a (non-latex) resistance band so I can do crunches and other exercises, and if worse comes to worse I’ll ask the doc for a PT referral to so I can see about getting some exercise training from them.

Otherwise, I spent the day going through and processing the almost 200 pictures I have from yesterday (I’d say I pitched about 40 for being blurry or just plain horrible). I’m learning to manipulate white balance and tone, and that did a lot to improve some of the pictures I already thought were pretty good. Yay!

Pretty good, all things considered!

I am still looking at four more weeks before I am allowed to put any weight on it, but the range of motion is very good, and the swelling and bruising have receded quite a bit!
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Michelle (whining): I want something sweet. What do we have that’s sweet? Wait a sec! I have chocolate! HEY! Where’s my chocolate?!
Michael: (evil laugh)

I have to say, the color is really starting to come out in my ankle! (stitches are covered in these pictures, so that reduces the grossness by a large factor.)
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When I realized I was going to need to wear skirts because of my broken ankle I was depressed–I don’t have OWN any skirts.

However, a txt conversation with Jeri made me realize an awesome pair of boots would ease the sting of the girlishness of skirts. As I was drooling over the selection at Dr Martens and deciding precisely how to tell Michel he was going to be required to go out and find a pair of boots for me (I had three pairs selected, in order of desire that it looked like he could find at a local store) the amazing, fabulous and wonderful Jeri sent me a “gift certificate” for some Dr Martens boots.

To be honest, I almost cried. Sometimes when you’re feeling your lowest, someone does something so unexpectedly wonderful–something that will remind you of that wonderfulness every time you get dressed to leave the house–it’s impossible to remain miserable.

Thank you Jeri. Your kindness and your generosity will be remembered every time I put my boot.