Just a few short weeks ago, I posted a pic of my left foot propped up on a stool because I'd twisted it. I muttered something about being surprised it wasn't my weaker, right ankle.
On my first day, on the first clear sunny afternoon of the new year I set out to take my lovely dog out for a walk. Less than five minutes later I was sprawled on the ground eyelevel with crystals of quartz still in the process of being worn by wind and friction down to grains of sand, sand and crusher fine. I thought I heard my right ankle pop, but can't be sure that the sound was exactly a pop. There is a moment where there is a surge of fiery pain exploding and merging with the roar of the freeway in the background. All the while I know this has happened on the first afternoon of the new year. My [I]new year.[/I]
So while I just wanted to walk my dog, her walk got cut short which is hardly fair because she enjoys it so much. For that matter, so do I. Walking has become something where I've been rediscovering my center. Walking lets me see nature and our habitat around us with a fresh eye. It's something we disconnect from when we're working indoors all the time, but the intimate embrace of knowing our surroundings seems so important to me. Somehow today, for the second time in as many weeks, I just stepped wrong and got brought down low. I hobbled home, DH helped make me an ice pack. We iced my ankle down for a couple hours and I napped for a bit. After waking up, I got my new Ace bandage and wrapped it up. So here I am now, alert in the middle of the night with my foot propped up on a stool.
I sure hope this is not a harbinger of things to come.
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