Baby steps

It's been a week since I messed up my leg, and today is the first day where I feel like there might be some improvement. My range of motion is better and I can walk a bit more normally (i.e., not just on the ball of my foot or stump-legged), though I still have to think about it and pay really close attention with each step as to how and where I put weight on my right foot. I walked to work today in the rain under the giant rainbow underella we bought for the wedding (in case it rained, which it didn't) with my husband. It rains so rarely here in Denver that I always treasure it when it happens. Rain makes the air smell good and the ground bring forth more green.

The trees around here are finally mostly starting to get leaves, and the flowers on the trees are all but gone. The lilac bushes are beginning to bloom, which makes the air smell fantastic. I'm not going to begrudge another few weeks of spring weather; I'll take what I can get before it starts to get hot. Our rose bushes are alive, as is the oregano and mint from last year, and we're going to get some flowers on our irises for the first time since we moved in.

This afternoon I have an appointment with a trainer at the gym, someone with a background in sports injury, who I am hoping can give me some ideas of what sorts of exercises I can do while I heal. It's a free consultation and I think just being back in the gym will make me feel better, even if all I can do is lift weights with my arms. I'm not willing to wait around another week just to talk to the physical therapist, and since I went through yesterday and (so far) today with no advil and I'm actually walking some, I don't see any need to wait. I do plan to take it easy, though.

My leg still hurts, though not nearly as acutely, and it is also itching, which to me means it is healing. I know that it may be a long time before it is all the way better, and I'm going to have to be really careful with it for months, perhaps years, so I don't reinjure it. Mostly I am just thankful that my body is relatively young and healthy, that I have every expectation that it will heal, and in a few weeks or months I won't even remember what it felt like to tear that muscle. I was thinking about this when we were in the Oakland Airport on Sunday evening waiting for our flight, and one of our fellow passengers was a good-looking surfer type guy in board shorts, with one real and one prosthetic leg. I was feeling really sorry for myself, because my leg hurt a lot and it looked really gross, but at least I had both of my legs. I was thinking about this today as I read a blog by a person with an incurable disease, someone who is mostly bedridden at the age of 23 (I think), someone who has been fighting infection and disease and the inability to do what every other young person can do since the age of 12. I don't read her blog very frequently, but when I do I am reminded that despite how much pain a person might be in, despite the knowledge that one will never live a "normal" life, there is still good to be had, life still worth living.

My leg hurts, but it will heal. It's a good reminder that I shouldn't take anything about what I can still do (or anything I can do when I'm not injured) for granted.