Baby Steps

My world has been diminutive the last two weeks—the sofa, the bedroom, the bathroom. A big outing involves going outside to sit down and watch the birds and the trains. I have to say I’ve been well spoiled by lots of people, not the least of whom is my new husband (who has managed to throw his back out; it’s like the walking wounded in here).

All this is likely to change tomorrow. I get my sutures out (hooray—they are itching like crazy). If all goes according to plan, I exchange my plaster cast for a Cam walker, and start putting tiny amounts of weight on my left foot, which will increase progressively as the leg gets its strength back. I start seeing the Physical Therapists. And I’m going back to work.

I may not last all day for a while—being on crutches is still exhausting me. It’s going to be strange to leave this little space I’ve confined myself to and interact, as if it were normal, with the world again.

Being taken out of action like this is a really good reminder that lots of people can’t walk—ever. Not properly, not without help. I’ve been given an opportunity to see what that must be like. It will have been only two weeks since I’ve had a real shower! A friend brought over a copy of Frida for me to watch, and I wondered a lot about showers and such things as I was watching it…