Broken...

I imagine it is theoretically possible to injure yourself in the course of the day while doing nothing more demanding than laundry, dusting, and making dinner. I can’t for the life of me figure out what I would have done yesterday that led to being in enough pain last night to actually wake me up in the middle of the night several times and to very nearly keep me from walking at all this morning. Obviously, something has gone screwy in my ankle, but just how I did it is beyond me. It was being almost unable to walk at all this morning that was most unsettling, even if it were really only for those few minutes. It was a feeling that I would happily be able to live without in the future.

I don’t remember being this fragile. And I certainly don’t remember taking more than a day or two to heal from most anything life could throw at me. There are certain concessions that we all make to getting older, but I hadn’t expected to start paying the butcher’s bill for that just yet. I’m probably not helping myself out by resisting the need to rest, ice, and otherwise give things time to heal up properly. While that sounds all well and good, there are plenty of things that fall into the “must do” category… feeding the dogs, making and cleaning up dinner, and generally getting ready for tomorrow and if I’m not doing them, they’re not getting done. Does anyone follow doctor’s instructions to give things lots of rest, ice, and more rest anyway? Until someone decides they’re going to pick up the slack, my ankle is just going to have to suck it up and realize that it works for me and that we’ve got shit to do.

I’m not good at being broken. I’m sore. Every step hurts. And I can’t just sit around with ice packs and pillows waiting to get better while everything else piles up around me. We all know I’m not going to let that happen, so I’d better get use to popping pills and walking with a pronounced limp for the time being. This should be a fun few weeks.