It finally arrived.

The day I had been waiting for.

My six-week doctor's appointment. The big one where x-rays happened, and I got the verdict on whether or not I could begin walking again.

The Good News

Yes! The doctor is extremely happy with how my foot and ankle have healed. The xrays looked great, everything is exactly where it's supposed to be, and the fracture is closed nicely. He wanted to know what I used to heal my incision so nicely, too.

My pain levels on manipulation were minor, and I got the all-clear to begin weight-bearing.

He gave me some instructions and I confidently assured myself I'd surprise him with how fast I'd be up and around. He told me I could go at my own pace, and that if I could walk tomorrow in a shoe without crutches or a walker that would be A-OK. It was all up to me.

I figured I could bypass some of the baby steps. No hobbling around partial weight bearing for me. No five minutes at a time, three times a day. I was going to get moving and clean my dang house!

The Bad News

Well, I was wrong. I got home non-weight-bearing and was exhausted from the to-and-fro to get to the appointment. (It's about an hour each way.)

The next morning, I got up, donned my sneakers, grabbed my crutches for balance, stood up took a first glorious step .... and immediately fell back onto the bed.

Mother of pearl.

That really, really hurt.

I lay there, swearing at my ceiling fan, sweating from the pain and effort of one step. Grudgingly, I broke out the knee sock and the walking boot. I took a deep breath, and got up using my good leg. Then, gently, gingerly, I put some weight down on the surgery leg. Ouch, ouch, ouch.

I hobble-crutched to the bathroom. Never have I been so glad to sit down on the toilet in my life, just to be able to sit. I sat there for probably ten minutes, waiting for the wild throbbing to recede enough that I could hobble-crutch back.

I wandered around my entire apartment, and it took five minutes.

I have two rooms and a bathroom.

I fell back into bed, drenched in sweat, my poor ankle throbbing, and my foot feeling like one giant bruise. Everything hurt.

And I did it two more times that day. I even tried another ill-advised trip to the bathroom with just a shoe.

That's certainly humbling.

I found myself firmly NOT being the overachiever I had been so certain of being. Holy guacamole, this was HARD. Not only does my left appendage have zero interest in being useful, my wrists hurt from the crutches, but my leg muscle that hasn't been used in ages is also screaming. What's more, I still have nerve pain on the skin of my foot that my surgeon says could be related to the nerve block given during surgery. He assures me that will go away, but it feels like I have a horrible sunburn on skin that hasn't seen the sun in a year.

Nonetheless, I keep doing my three walks a day. I would love to say it's getting easier. It's not, not yet. I dread it every single time.

I start physical therapy on Wednesday and I'm hoping that will help me figure out a better way of getting around. I have a walker arriving which should lessen the pressure on my wrists and arms.

I think there are a lot of lessons in all this, and once I'm fully through it to the other side, I'll be able to share them. Right now, it's hard, but I'm resilient. I've pushed through every other difficult time in my life, I remind myself. I'll push through this one too. Maybe not as quickly and smoothly as I thought, but I will get back on my feet and be walking through my beloved North Carolina woods again one of these days. I will visit my daughter on Vancouver Island and see the rainforest trails she walks every day with her new job.

I'll just get there with baby steps, hobble-crutching for a while, and work my way back. Every little step is a step closer to reclaiming my independence and my life, even if that step is not at all graceful or pain-free.

Before when I had to do difficult things, my mantra was, "You had two eight-pound babies without drugs. You can do this."

Now it's going to be, "You learned how to walk again at 55. You can do this."

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