I feel a little better now.
I had my first pity party, complete with tears, since I fell and broke my fibula on November 13. I cried when it happened because it hurt, and after that? I didn’t really complain, because I was just super grateful I didn’t need surgery. I found ways to make good use of my time, adapted at work, crafted, crocheted, and have been a pretty good sport about the whole thing. Till thirty or so minutes ago.
I was in the tub with my tablet and was reading a thread in a weightlifting group I belong to, as well as my feed on FB, and I lost it. I cried ugly. I’m discouraged, sad, jealous, feeling weak and flabby, impatient and pissed off.
At some point, over the past two years, I’ve turned into some kind of fitness diva…no, maybe junkie is the right word (even though ‘diva’ sounds much more cool) and I depended on fitness and exercise to make me feel good about myself. It took these 8 weeks to realize that I don’t feel whole without it. I have experienced Zumba envy. And lifting envy. Oh, and running envy. I haven’t wished ill will on anyone, mind you, because that isn’t like me, but boy, am I jealous! Realizing that made me lose it. I don’t make a habit of envy, for the record.
I’ve been good about following all the doctor’s orders. I really have been, but c’mon. I did my sentence, paid my dues and all that.
I was able to ditch my moon boot a week ago last Tuesday, and have kept the offending body part supported as prescribed by my orthopedist. Last week I managed a day at 10k steps, but not since, because I listen to my body; ESPECIALLY that ankle. I backed off when I needed to. I even went so far as to heat my rice bag at work, elevate my foot and find ways NOT to be all over the hospital.
Yet here I sit, left ankle swollen almost as big as it was when I got my stylish grey moon boot, and in about as much pain. WTActualF is THAT all about?
I mean, c’mon! I followed directions; became a hooking (crochet reference, just so we are clear), NetFlix addicted couch potato, stayed off of it, wrapped it, encased it, exercised it per doc’s instructions.
I am just so futher mucking frustrated with my body’s inability to heal. They say when you get older you don’t bounce back like you used to. Hell, I don’t bounce at all! I, apparently, break, and then take my sweet @$$ time mending.
What was the last hurdle you had to overcome?
How did you handle it?
Did you cry ugly?
Until next time…