Prisoner of my Own Foot:

I looked in the mirror this morning as I did my hair and the reflection is the same.  Maybe a little gaunter, definitely paler, but still the same bright blue eyes reflect back at me.  Straighten my hair, a touch of makeup and I look like me, the old me.  Everyone comments that I look so healthy.  I feel stronger every day, my brain becomes clearer as I wean off of the drugs. But I am not the same.  I get around via wheelchair and for a precious small time each day, crutches. Every action, every movement has to be planned ahead, I feel like I am a Prisoner of My Own Foot.

This morning I awoke to bright sunshine and the crystal clear mountains, and every fiber of my very being longed to jump on my bike and go for a long ride, or strap on my running shoes and run; but I can’t. Not yet at least!  This foot holds me prisoner still. That thought caused me to throw the covers over my head and burrow into my bed.  Still self-pity isn’t my style, so I settled to sit on the porch in the sun and enjoy my coffee.

Last week, I didn’t leave the house for 4 days, for 4 days! (The only exception being my daily 20-30 minutes wheels around the block with Sadie)  This is me, homebound, no! I reject that with my very soul.  I am learning patience, I am doing a puzzle, reading a book, filling my time, but still…. My foot controls my day!

I watch my ankle heal and with each day it looks less like an alien and more connected to reality, to a foot that I mostly can’t feel, yet one that controls my every move every day.  I want to hate it.  I want to scream at it, or scream at the universe, but I can’t.  Every night after I give myself my nightly shot and take my meds, I lay in the darkness and mutter a silent prayer that the nerve graft will work, that I will feel my foot again. Then I pray that if that doesn’t happen, if a half dead foot is to be my life, I will learn to run on it. I will learn to ride my bike again. It is a prayer so desperate, that I will only whisper it in the night.

I meditate on these thoughts as I fall asleep, and as each new day dawns, I fill my time and work on preparing the rest of my body to help in this battle.  My strength physical and mental will free me from my jailer in time.  Whatever the outcome is to be I will only give this jailer, This Thief, a limited time, and then I will free myself.

I will not be a Prisoner to My Foot for long, forever! To this promise I will be true!