The long awaited day of freedom has come: my ankles are orthopedic-device free! I’ve had the last x-ray, the last look-see
from the orthopedist, the last poking and prodding from the medical residents
in the office, the last goodbye to the encouraging and jolly front desk staff
(I kindawanna put them on my Christmas card list).
Wish I could say I skipped away and am back to walking the
trail to the park every day, signed up for fall hikes in the community and
ambling around to enjoy the gorgeous mid-Atlantic autumn colors.
But, no. I’m still a
bit unsteady, still pretty swollen in the feet, still need to put my feet up
several times a day. But we did get out for a nice drive and a stop by a pumpkin vendor, which was pretty spectacular.
There is, however, more good news and forward motion. The old-lady shower stool is gone and I am
back to taking stand-up showers (this is huge!), back to taking care of the
children (as long as we stay home and stay on only one floor of the
house), and back to feeling more like a
contributing member of the household.
Physical therapy has begun, and though it will be a long haul, I do aim
to get my feet back.
Celebration is definitely in order here and Emily and I
wasted little time in getting started.
We began at the hair studio, which is really a kind of
Mayberry clip and curl joint where the proprietor knows all the gossip and is
eager to share. My haircutter had some
good physical therapy advice for me from her own experience with a broken
ankle, and more to the point, she understood what to do with my hair. My hair.
Oh my hair which so long ago was long and golden and silky and is now
mousey and graying and altogether unrecognizable to me. I suggested a bob, she said let’s do long
layers and let the curls out.
Curls? Did I know that I have
curly hair? Is this a gift of the
gray? There are a lot of changes in
midlife, let me tell ya, and some of them are a lot of fun.
My last pedicure was in California, with my mom, the day
before dad’s funeral. Two weeks later,
when my toes still looked pretty good, I took that tumble on the stairs and my
feet have done nothing but get ugly and then uglier for the last 11 weeks. So Saturday I apologetically put my icky,
untended feet in the capable hands of Janet, the young woman at the newly
opened pedi place on the main drag in Takoma Park. I don’t know if Janet’s aesthetician training equipped her with a
special knowledge of leg massage or if she had some other kind of training or
if her abuela is a curandera who taught her some secrets, but that woman did
some magic on my sore legs and feet.
That would have been good enough, but the toes also look fantastic. This is especially nice because the only
shoes I can get on my swollen feet are teva flip flops, leaving my shiny red
nails out in the chilly weather for all to see.
I love them. She got a big tip.
What surprises are next?
Will I run a marathon after the PT is over (smile if you know how much I
hate to run)? Is there more to learn
about the humility of needing help or did I get a passing grade on that one? What opportunities will life bring for me to
pay all the kindness and concern forward?
Will I ever wear those beautiful red shoes again? They would look good with my curls.And just because life continues to be more than good:
