Last April, I fell indoor rock climbing and broke my right fibula (that’s the long, skinny bone that runs along your outer calf) and my left talus (that’s the ankle bone). I spent six glorious days in the trauma center — and by “glorious” I mean gloriously painful and not glorious at all. Now, I have two titanium screws in my ankle.
I guess one positive is that I can listen to Sia’s song “Titanium” and belt “I am TITAAAAANNNNIIIIUMMM” and actually mean it. That about sums up the positives.
I was in a wheelchair for months, and in physical therapy for about a year, re-learning how to walk and strengthening all the muscles that basically withered away to nothing. It. Was. So. Difficult. And on some days, it still is.
Now I’m dealing with life post-injury and the residual chronic pain/arthritis/anxiety that goes with it. I’m finding new ways to deal with pain and work to get mobility back, while also understanding that one some days, I’ll just need to flop on the couch and binge some Netflix guilty pleasures (Gossip Girl, anyone?)
Just like before my injury, I’m constantly chasing overall health, only now with a slight twist.