After being down to only one leg and one arm for a couple weeks now (that is, I lost the use of my right arm for crutching two weeks ago), I’ve gotten pretty doggone good in getting around. Well, okay, so I don’t go that far. Any major excursion takes a wheelchair. But as for one-crutching around the house and getting up and down stairs, it’s working. Thank goodness I work at home, and the commute to my office (in California) is only five stairs.
I’ve been doing exercises for the upper injured leg. Of course, the lower leg can get nothing, being in a cast. I have these large calf muscles from all my years of running. The left one’s gonna look a sight when the cast comes off. I’ll have this huge bunch of hanging skin, I’m afraid. Already, even with the upper leg exercises, you should see the difference between my right and left legs. My right one is muscular, with a clear bump where the muscle starts above the knee. My left leg looks scrawny. Looks like you’re looking at the legs of two different people.
Thursday we fly back up to Coeur d’Alene for a doctor’s appointment Friday to get the cast off. Then I go into a boot for, I don’t know, at least another month. Don’t know when I can start putting weight on the ankle in the boot. So I may be one-crutching it for a few weeks yet.
I’m not one to complain, and I always try to find the humor in everything, but in all honesty, this has not been fun. Can’t wait until this is all behind me. It has, however, made me more empathetic for others who suffer sudden injury. It’s a real shock to the body, and even if you know the time will pass and you will be well again—in the meantime the days rather drag. And the loss of endorphins from exercising is a major hit to the emotional system.
Methinks I shall start a new annual event: Injured Person Day. Anybody you know with an injury, you send a card to, like Mother’s Day. Hallmark would love it.
Meanwhile wonderful Mark—you remember, my pinch-hitting blogger—has been taking great care of me. Best thing about all of this—he’s making dinner every night, and I get to sit on the couch and have it brought to me. Totally cool. The guy can cook too. Makes better dinners than I do. I keep telling him he cooks so great he might as well keep doing it when I’m better. He doesn’t seem too keen on that idea, however.
While I’m updating, I have to tell you the latest news on G.G. (If you don’t know who G.G. is, you can read about him here and here.) Yesterday while we were out I asked Mark to drive me by my running route. I wanted to see if G.G. was still on the porch.
He’s gone. Totally.
Not on the porch in his wicker chair, although now not one, but two chairs are there. Both empty. I focused through the large window, where I first saw G.G. in the armchair, wearing his green tank top. Not there either.
How can a life-sized gray gorilla just disappear?
I’m thinkin’ maybe he broke his ankle …
Read Part 9