Six Weeks and A Day

Image from 123RF Stock Photos

It's been six weeks and a day since I destroyed my ankle. I will admit, it has been a very long and trying six weeks. Things are much much better, better even than I feared they might be at this point when it first happened.

I'm completely off the crutches, I can go up the stairs like a normal person (as long as I have a wall or rail to hold on to), I can balance on my right foot for about 10 seconds (it's not pretty or steady, but I can do it), I can walk without a limp in my ugly boots, and I can walk (with a bit of a limp) in my bare feet. And I did manage to walk on a treadmill today at physical therapy. A little less than a quarter of a mile in 10 minutes, but still. (Guess what you can't do on a treadmill? Limp! You'll fall on your face if you do.)

I'm not quite fully recovered yet. I can't go down the stairs like a normal person (I have to take them one at a time, leading with my good foot), I can't walk backwards (discovered that the hard way when I tried), it is very unpleasant for me to kick anything (even accidentally, with or without my boots), I still haven't been cleared to drive (hopefully next week), and my ankle is quite sore by the end of each day. But things are, overall, slowly returning to normal. Given where I was six weeks ago, it seems quite miraculous. I just need to be a bit more patient.
Currently feeling: trying not to count the days