My Theory On Blooming

LIFE OF AN AMERICAN EXPAT LIVING ABROAD

Two weeks ago I broke the 5th metatarsal on my right foot. I wish the story of how I broke it were much more interesting…but it is very, very, very lame. 
I will give you the highlights…
  • I was wearing 4 inch wedges.
  • The pavement was made of cobblestones.
  • I was on my way to change my clothes AND put on my sneakers.
  • I was walking.

There you have it. Those 4 details create the perfect storm for a broken foot bone.
When it first happened, I really thought I just sprained it. But, then I tried to stand up and walk.  And, that shit was not happening. 
You know when you get the feeling that something is wrong. Like really wrong. Like you don’t want to know the real answer because you are scared to find out that you are really actually right kind of feeling? Yeah, I had it.  The ER doctors and x-rays confirmed my suspicion. I was gifted an air cast and crutches, told not to put any pressure on my foot, to see an orthopedist in 7 days, and sent on my merry way.  
I will never…ever…ever…take my feet (or any body part for that matter) for granted again.
I am a strong willed, independent and active person. I am used to doing things for myself. I am used to exercising daily. I am used to walking to the bathroom with ease in the middle of the night to pee. But, at the drop of a hat (or in this case, my ass)…I became a weak, needy and extremely irritable person.  
My crutches hindered me from carrying anything, and made me slow as molasses. Our home is two stories. Hopping up and down steps was making me think I was going to fall to my death. I couldn’t help my kids (which was kinda good in a “see all the crazy crap I do for you” kind of way). My husband has had to basically do everything…from get the kids out the door in the morning to bringing me water at night.  I felt helpless.  And, I was feeling depressed.
I then saw an advertisement for Shriner’s Hospital. It was a serious reality check. These kids are struggling with all sorts of issues from cleft palates and burns to orthopedic issues and spinal cord injuries. At that moment I stopped feeling sorry for myself. I picked my crutch up off the floor (which I had just thrown against the wall out of frustration) and sucked it up.
Since that moment, I have been a lot better. I have showered nearly every day (let’s be honest, it’s not necessary if I’m not planning to leave the house, and sometimes even if I am). I have been trying to get out as often as possible. I can’t do the things that I normally do like exercise and walk around town, but I can spend time with friends and reflect on myself. I am not sure if this was one of those moments in life where there’s a sign to slow down and enjoy life a little more, but I am now trying to embrace it.

I think we as individuals want to feel sorry for ourselves, when there are people in far worse situations in the world. I can’t imagine what the people in those situations must be thinking. So, I’m taking my minor setback to slow it down a bit…enjoying my life and being happy with all the incredible people and things I have in it.  

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