Three weeks ago tonight I broke my ankle. Let me explain. Earlier that very day I had decided it was time for me to start working out again. By working out I mean exerting the least amount of energy possible, yet still respectably burning some kcals. I chose walking. I actually enjoy walking in my neighborhood when the weather is nice, the mosquitos are not in season, I still have a shred of energy after work, I have no other plans…in other words, when I have zero excuses not to. Anyway. The weather was perfect. I had the necessary shred of energy. I successfully walked 2 miles, visited with some neighbors along the way, & safely made it back to my driveway (cue the dramatic orchestral music).
Backstory: I have never been athletic. When asked “what did you play in high school?”, I answer, “the clarinet, Karen.” And I was first chair, thank you very much. I am 5 feet, 9 inches tall. I have really long arms & a 36″ inseam. I struggle to get all that through space & time. I have been “affectionately” referred to as a newborn giraffe on various occasions. It’s fine. I’m fine.
So what happened three weeks ago was I came back from my walk, picked up the newspaper, fumbled the newspaper (oh, how I wish I had just let it go), & in trying to catch the newspaper, I fell of the edge of the driveway. I knew when I hit the ground that my ankle was broken. There was some repentance necessary a bit later, as my vocabulary may or may not have reflected my love for Jesus & His Word. I tried to call my husband (who was on a horse in the pasture behind our house). He was unavailable to help me. BECAUSE HE DID NOT HAVE HIS PHONE. This is a tale for another day.
Long story short: I drove myself to urgent care the next morning where it was confirmed to be a fracture of the malleolus. I was given a boot to wear for the foreseeable future, which I am sick of already. My husband says I need a better story…a “campfire version”, as he calls it…whereby I LIE & come up with something more respectable than falling off the dang driveway. But Jesus knows.
I have a re-check this week. Praying my PCP says, “Off with that boot!” But guess what?…even if he doesn’t, I AM THE BOSS OF ME. If you see me at Aldi with matching shoes this weekend, mind ya business. Until next time….be careful in your driveways out there…
A Story Told Here... 