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Ahem. So it’s been quiet around here. “Why?” you ask. Well, I’d like to say that it’s because I’ve just been so busy writing, editing, reading, biking, running and enjoying the sunshine that this blog has languished.

Sadly, that’s not the case. On Saturday morning, while at a friend’s house in Seattle, I fell off her step. A single, solitary, short step. There was a pop!, a cry of anguish! (mine, I realized later) and then I crawled to the bathroom to nearly pass out and retch over said friend’s toilet. And, yet, somehow, I still managed to write it off as, “Oh, I probably just tore a ligament,” and spent the rest of the weekend with my foot on a chair, popping ibuprofen and taking the train home.

Turns out, no, I did not just tear a ligament. I actually, for the first time in my life, broke a bone. My ankle bone, or talus if you will. When the x-ray technician called and told me that, I cried. A lot. And then I had nightmares about surgery (I’ve never had surgery), about ginormous health care bills (I don’t have insurance), about being off my feet for three months (I don’t have a car because I bike everywhere. Biked. I used to bike everywhere.).

I kept telling myself it wasn’t that bad. After all, didn’t I live through Lyme Disease last year? And that made me wonder what I’d done wrong that my karma would serve up two serious issues in such a short time. And that made me cry. And then I would think, “But I can do this. I have amazing friends who are sending good energy.” And that made me feel better. Then I would remember how I used to think, “My life’s been so good, so lucky. Soon, all the bad things are going to come and knock me on my ass.” And then I would realize that “soon” is “now”. Tears. Yes. It went round and round and round. Needless to say, neither sleep or eating were at the top of my priority list for the past few days.

After various appointments and x-rays and what-have-you, today I met with an orthopedic surgeon. Turns out, yes, I broke my ankle, but it’s a very small break. No surgery, no pins, no plaster cast necessary. I have crutches and a gel cast thing and more ibuprofen.

I am pretty sure I told the doctor I loved him. He didn’t seem all that surprised, so I’d guess he hears it a lot. And then, he charged me next to nothing. I cried again.

It’s been a week of up and downs. No, scratch that, it’s been TWO YEARS of ups and down. Pretty good ups. Very bad downs. I would like the roller coaster ride to stop now, but my guess is that it’s going to be this way for the rest of my life. Our lives. I guess this is what we do, isn’t it? Learn to take it all in stride, one step at a time. Ideally, one very safe, solid step at a time.

Kiss you ’til you fall on your knees, s.

PS — If you’re expecting something, anything from me, please be patient. I’ve been in too much stress/pain/worry/immobility/appointment-mode to get much done so far this week, but I’m going to start roaring back into work as soon as I post this. So you should hear from me shortly, I promise!

The big, swollen, painful, broken foot. Owie.

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