Yesterday was so challenging that I deemed 2:30 pm a perfectly acceptable time to finish off the wine from the other night. (It was happy hour on the East Coast, I reasoned. Here's to you, New York!) This morning found me eating a lukewarm Sysco breakfast in a desolate hospital cafeteria. Later, my cab driver was a beret-wearing, fight-picking, bitter sexist assclown who tried to charge me double the fare. But do you know why none of this matters, aside from the pettiness of it all?
Because the cast is off and I can walk again!
Well, sort of. My gait is more of an uneven duck-footed crawl — think of a sedated John Wayne wearing a lift in one shoe and you're pretty close. But still, this is better than my previous hobble style, which involved me lurching and making a dull thump each time my broken foot met the floor. Now, I have been fitted with an aluminum and velcro removable cast that makes me look like either a robot or Darth Vader. For my other foot, I have a very stylish foam lift that attaches to my shoe to make my stance more even. Yes, it is a very fashionable look. Try to conceal your envy.
People told me that the cast would smell awful when it came off, but honestly, it didn't at all. (Is it because the cast had been changed every two weeks, or because I am a delicate flower?) The considerable amount of leg hair wasn't unexpected, but I was surprised by how grotesquely parched my skin had become over the last six weeks. It was wrinkled and cracked, and you really don't want to know how much dead skin one leg can accumulate.
It is pretty amazing to see how quickly the body can restore itself. We take that for granted, but really, how wonderful is it that bones heal? The last six weeks have been long and difficult, and I'm nowhere close to walking normally yet. Already, though, it feels like things are going to get better. Tonight I got to take a real bath with both legs in the water. Adios, leg condom. Into the closet you go, unwieldy crutches. Vader-legs is on the move, and she's taking baths whenever she pleases!
Because the cast is off and I can walk again!
Well, sort of. My gait is more of an uneven duck-footed crawl — think of a sedated John Wayne wearing a lift in one shoe and you're pretty close. But still, this is better than my previous hobble style, which involved me lurching and making a dull thump each time my broken foot met the floor. Now, I have been fitted with an aluminum and velcro removable cast that makes me look like either a robot or Darth Vader. For my other foot, I have a very stylish foam lift that attaches to my shoe to make my stance more even. Yes, it is a very fashionable look. Try to conceal your envy.
People told me that the cast would smell awful when it came off, but honestly, it didn't at all. (Is it because the cast had been changed every two weeks, or because I am a delicate flower?) The considerable amount of leg hair wasn't unexpected, but I was surprised by how grotesquely parched my skin had become over the last six weeks. It was wrinkled and cracked, and you really don't want to know how much dead skin one leg can accumulate.
It is pretty amazing to see how quickly the body can restore itself. We take that for granted, but really, how wonderful is it that bones heal? The last six weeks have been long and difficult, and I'm nowhere close to walking normally yet. Already, though, it feels like things are going to get better. Tonight I got to take a real bath with both legs in the water. Adios, leg condom. Into the closet you go, unwieldy crutches. Vader-legs is on the move, and she's taking baths whenever she pleases!
Labels: i can't walk
Yay! Awesome!
Thanks! It has been such a treat to be able to move around a bit more.