Since breaking the ankle, I’ve hardly been venturing out of the apartment at all. There are various reasons: the big one was lack of energy, closely followed by negotiating stairs and ice. I went to a doctor’s appointment at the end of week three, and then to class last Thursday. After three hours on campus, I came back home and crawled back into bed. That one trip was enough to wear me out for a day and a half. Last year when one of my professors had surgery, I was astonished at how long it took him to be fully well again. Now, I understand more than I ever wanted to about how that sort of thing works.

Staying inside has been difficult for me. I get cabin fever pretty easily, and usually make it a point to go out at least once a day. Previously I took walks as often as I could, which helped deal not only with the cabin fever but also with ongoing back problems and occasional incipient depression. Being isolated from the only community I have up here didn’t help either with the last issue. Weeks three though five were the darkest I’ve had in probably ten years. That’s when I started posting less and including more poetry here, because I didn’t want to write posts about my bitterness or sadness, and my world had suddenly narrowed to the point that there wasn’t much else to write about. I couldn’t get away from the capriciousness of my accident, from the fact that my body will likely face future problems as a result and that there are metal things in it that will remain there until I die. I was never quite suicidal, but I was far enough gone to consider leaving my career (for no good reason, I might add.) At the worst of things, I was staying up nights until I was exhausted enough to fall asleep immediately upon contact with the pillow, because otherwise I would stare at the ceiling shadows and cry. It took about a month to come to terms with things, and then another week to really feel that I’d begun to climb out of the pit. Mister Boyfriend’s unfailing encouragement and my mom’s visit both helped tremendously, as did all the comments, emails, cards and gifts. And around that same time my body finally began to turn the corner and regain some stamina, which meant that I could move around the apartment more and regain scraps of independence. My mental state is much better now. I’d even go so far as to say that I’m happy most of the time. I’m still not at all what I was before physically, but seeing improvement each day is immensely cheering.

Take going to class, for instance. I’ve been back twice now, last Thursday and today. Being able to feel somewhat connected with my department again is wonderful, but last week I was a rather passive attendee. Mister Boyfriend and my professor wheeled me around, and the experience still completely wore me out. This week I was able to wheel myself through the parking garage and down a hall, although Mister Boyfriend still did most of the pushing. Today was a beautiful day, so afterwards we ate lunch at the park (albeit in gale force winds) and then drove through the park, across town, through downtown, and along the Mississippi River. It was wonderful to be out and about again with my best friend, and to actually feel some sun and see some green after six months of winter. When we got back home I went back to my usual spot in the bedroom, but only because I’m most comfortable there.

The cast comes off a week from tomorrow, and then the gradual return to walking begins. I’m a-gonna look for a really cool cane.