This past week has been a time of several little miracles.
The last two nights I’ve slept without wearing the boot. Oh my, the freedom of feeling my other foot underneath the sheets! Of not sleeping with that big heavy walking boot on.
I keep my right ankle wrapped and hope it protects it enough if I happen to fall during the night. Unfortunately, that knee scooter topples over pretty easily.
This week I’ve gotten brave enough to try something else. Several times a day I ride the knee scooter to the kitchen, then I walk around holding on to things.
It’s so much easier than leaning over a scooter to wash dishes and prepare food. Plus it was hurting my back having to do things that way.
I do the same thing while in the bathroom.
I’m very careful and probably overly cautious at this point. Because I tend to overdo. It seems to be written into my DNA.
It isn’t sudden pain that will go away that I’m worried about.
It’s the 10 years of it I dealt with on a fairly continuous basis that I’m afraid of setting off. Like striking a match that ignites.
I’m afraid I’ll go a bit too far and then have another setback. That I’ll move one step forward, then have to take two or three steps back.
Toward the end there before ankle surgery, it hurt even when I didn’t walk.
It was a constant pain that was probably the result of the torn tendons that needed to be repaired.
Feeling Cautiously Optimistic:
So I’m a bit gun shy I suppose. I’d rather get around in a wheelchair than feel that kind of continuous pain again.
When you’ve had your life become so limited, you no longer take your body’s abilities for granted. Just walking a little bit, a few steps, becomes newfound freedom.
So I’m feeling cautiously optimistic this week.
I watch TV and see actors walking around and it looks so effortless. And I hope they don’t take it for granted. Because to me, it looks like a dream come true.
Many people walk along the sidewalk or inside their home, without thought. As if it’s a given.
It isn’t a given.
If I’m able to walk out my front door and get my mail and take out my trash, I will be so grateful. Maybe be able to walk around and take photos outside like I used to.
I’d like to tend to my outside plants again. Feel dirt between my fingers.
I haven’t driven my car since the end of June. If/when I can drive again, I will be so thankful. It’s not that I need to go anywhere except to doctor’s appointments. But Then I wouldn’t have to ask anyone to drive me.
I’m sure things I take for granted every day are another person’s fervent hope.
To be able to see, to have nature unfold in front of you, is a miracle. And I have the wonderful ability of sight.
Did you know that 2 out of 5 adults over the age of 65 have a disability?
This means that about 61 million adults in the U.S., or 1 in 4, live with a disability, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
Taking Things For Granted:
I suppose we all tend to take things for granted. Because we do things by rote. We do things mechanically and repetitiously. Just as we’ve always done them.
I watch someone on TV run and I think how amazing that is. And I recall how, as a child, I would run up the slope of dirt that covered the cellar and then back down and squeal with joy.
How I’d run around the rural property and inside the vast space beyond the chicken fence and feel the wind whipping my hair against my face.
These things are a gift. Not everyone is born with the ability to do these things.
Or they might be born with it and suddenly have it taken away.
When a child takes its first steps, everyone is thrilled. It is an “occasion.” Something to be noted and remembered.
Each small achievement to me now is a present waiting to be unwrapped. It’s a little miracle.