Confessions of a Bedridden, Leg Casted, Befuddled Semi Blonde

Remember those days when you wanted to break a bone and be the kid with a cast? A cast covered in signatures that proved you had countless friends?

I'm way past all that.

For one, you can't sign the soft cast that covers my lower left leg. And two, it will be replaced by a removable, unsignable brace in only three days.

I should have written about this before and not allowed so much silent time on my blog. But as the ankle reconstruction approached, I enjoyed my last days of mobility freedom by soaking in a few errands and painting my bedroom. I didn't write. I created a cheery atmosphere in my home that will help as I convalesce in the coming weeks and months.

I've a long road ahead.

At 4:45 am on New Year's Eve, my sister drove me to the hospital where they  prepped me for surgery. The time went by quickly and after a catheter was inserted above my knee to serve as a pain block post surgery, I was wheeled to the operating room.

When I woke up I was told the surgery had taken longer than expected due to added repairs to my perennial tendon. Not only had the surgeon replaced my ankle ligaments with a cadaver tendon, he had to stitch a two and a half inch split in the tendon behind my ankle. We knew it might need some repair, but didn't realize it would be so extensive. The two procedures have left me practically bedridden... and befuddled.

There are moments I'm afraid my life as I knew it is over. That I'll never get back to the limited mobility I lived with before. With no weight bearing for four to six weeks, I worry I'll lose the strength I worked to gain in physical therapy throughout the fall.

OK... exaggerated concerns.

But there's still a long, awkward road ahead. One that requires a walker, a wheelchair, and my favorite, the knee scooter. And above all that, the daily mental challenge not to cave to the fear and overwhelm that comes when simple tasks are no longer simple.

If you read this blog at the wrong moment today, you read a botched ending when I posted it instead of just saving it when my "visiting nurse" arrived. I tried to finish a sentence before we started therapy and pushed the wrong button. Didn't even get this right my first time out post ankle reconstruction.

But my journal quotes Psalm 23: 2 today, "He lets me rest in the meadow grass and leads me beside the quiet streams. He gives me new strength. He helps me do what honors Him the most."

As I type, I look out a big picture window at my moms home, overlooking a creek that borders her yard. The running water soothes my worries and reminds me of the One who gives me new strength. I can only hope, as I live life in the slow lane the next several weeks, that I will continue to do what honors Him most.

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