Nine Weeks Broken
I rarely wear matching socks, but now, my mismatched style has less to do with my propensity for misplacing fashion accessories and all to do with a broken bone. I pair an ankle black footsie cover with a colorful knee high. Nobody ever notices. Instead, they stare at the snowboard style boot on my right and the off-set swagger to my left. Some would call it a limp. I'm simply fairly thrilled to have retired my crutches.
Life has changed over the past two months. I don't sleep in my bed now, but on it. My leg stays elevated, and if I'm being good, you might find ice cocooning my brokenness. I haven't driven a car, but I had had enough of Los Angeles traffic anyway. Now, I experience the convenience and class of friends picking me up in their Porsches and dropping me directly at the location, before speeding away in search of the ever elusive 'beach parking.' I go to happy hours more than I should and never set my alarm. I'm fascinated by airplane ice cubes in my coffee and find myself with 'room to breathe.' It's simple, really. This way of living. There is no rush when you break an ankle. I can barely walk, let alone—rush.
My days are filled with writing, social media strategy, physical therapy appointments, friends...and pain. Most of the time, I feel like my accident[al] lifestyle change has turned my world upside down for the better. An afterthought to that is that I wish I didn't need a physical injury to stop my tracks, but here we are— "Nine weeks broken."
Sometimes, I think I'm enjoying this time too much. I don't want to be back at where left and I'm not sure where I'm going. This space of calm and slow and pain is becoming familiar, but there are many days, it feels like I won't get better soon. I should be walking without my moon boot, but I'm not. Kind of, but not really. Logic says I will get better. I am better; emotionally especially. I know I have nothing to complain about. This space is only temporary. I simply didn't prepare myself for when the days arrive when momentary settles on boundless.
I'm in this space of "in-between." It's uncomfortable, like that space between my bones uncomfortable. The Orthopedist tells me she doesn't know why my bones are healing very slow. She says this happens in about 5 percent of cases. It would be nice to follow the crowd this time, except for the fact that I'm kind of falling in love with time and using it to create in the ways that I want. I need to figure out how I can keep that going even past the point of being together again. I wasn't together before. I just hid in the flurry of activity the prayer that something would change. Nine weeks broken and all has changed.