It’s been quite a week. Lots of radical tweeting, supporting artists world-wide who are taking a stand to #resist the recent political surges in religious intolerance, mysogeny and homophobia. Lots of writing on projects new and old. Lots of waiting on a project out on submission.
You’d think that would be enough to keep me busy. But no, I found the time, last Saturday afternoon, to take a bad step in a snow-storm, and fold my leg in a Very Unnatural Manner between my Jeep and the stairs to my driveway.
One regular foot, one pink and purple potato foot.
Technically it is my leg that is broken — the distal fibula in a spiral fracture. Unfortunately, I also tore the corresponding ligament on the inner tibia, which means that even with a cast there isn’t enough support for my ankle. So, surgery tomorrow, six weeks no weight-bearing, and at least nine months before I can go for a run again. It’s my right ankle, so no driving.
I’ve spent the past few days phoning and emailing everyone I might have booked a meeting or a visit or a reading with, to let them know the sitch. But — if I missed you, email me, okay? We’ll work something out!
I’m pretty bummed about this, but in an effort not to wallow in the loss of my independance, I am focusing on the increased time I suddenly have to write and to read. I am so lucky in that I have lots of help from my family, and the puppies have a wonderful new dog walker. I’m safe and warm and well-fed and my eyes and typing fingers are still working. All is well. [Here’s a cosy puppy shot, to prove it…]
Three people in my wee village broke legs and ankles on the day I went down, and countless others in Vancouver. I mean, we all knew Winter Was Coming, but it’s like this year, the West Coast is standing in for the Stark family.
Be safe out there, everyone.