At Day Fifty Seven …

When a part of one’s body has been broken … fractured … opened and insulted with the addition of a metal plate and screws, encased and elevated for two months.   When one cannot walk.  When one must rely on the kindness of others … here are just a few things that are learned:

  • A day is way longer than the clock that measures its length.
  • Hair can go at least two days between washing as long as nobody wants to hug you.
  • A ten-month Labradoodle puppy is a total clown, except without the creepy factor.
  • You can’t stand on one leg and insert your contact lenses without inflicting great bodily injury.
  • Gratitude is a plate of food, even if it’s a spoonful of canned refried beans and plain twisty noodles plopped on that  plate.
  • Dust on every surface is not a lethal event.
  • The death of a beloved is a deeper cut than any broken leg.
  • You can live with your leg in the air if you know there’s an end date and you have doggies to kiss you through the misery.
  • A gynormous glass of wine is like a kiss on a boo-boo — not really a cure, but it sure feels sweet.

Am I through learning things yet?  Probably not.  But this coming Thursday I’ll learn one more thing … I’ll learn if I can stand up and place even a teensy bit of weight on my leg.  Say a prayer, hold good thoughts, and wish me luck!


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