An Open Window

Window

The Velcro bites into the fabric of the ace bandage that holds the Fiberglas square in place. After a few fierce tugs, the teeth yield to my whims and I’m able to remove the binding. I put it aside, pop out the square and set that next to the bandage. My fingers unfold the cotton and lightly stroke the tender skin that lies beneath. I grin from ear to ear, excited by the sensations that I feel. Heat, heartbeat, pain, and nerve twitches. I tickle the tender skin on the arch of my foot. I feel electricity in my fingertips, as they bring the pale skin back to life. Often, I experience little bee stings around the surgical sites. I welcome the feeling though, it means the nerves are reconnecting.

My tattoo of Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas is hidden by the half cast on my right leg. The cast serves as an anchor, holding my injured leg and ankle in a neutral position. I miss being greeted by her melancholy face when I stretch my shapely legs, as I awaken each morning. My hand slides into the cast, and I caress her face. The skin is flaking, from Fiberglas and cotton that wicks all the moisture from my skin. There’s atrophy in the muscles, already. I try not to focus on it though. Eight more weeks my leg will be encased either in plastic or Fiberglas.

I peer back into the window and scoot the cotton around to find one of the three incisions. It’s still pink, but completely heeled. Excitement runs through me as I realize that the numbness at the site is gone. Replaced with warmth and a pulse. I pinch the skin, just to be sure and realize all of the feeling has returned. Joyously, I grab my ultrasound bone healing system and begin the 20 minute process of stimulating bone growth.

With the ultrasound fastened on the opening in my cast, I depress the on/off switch. The machine comes to life and sound waves seep into my skin. 20 minutes, twice a day and lots of prayers are what help the broken Talus bone stay alive. If it stays alive, it will regrow stronger than before. I may never dance or run again. But the use of the ultrasound may give me a better chance at walking without pain. That’s my main focus right now, putting weight on the right foot and taking a step. Finally, the machine shuts off and I wipe the conduction gel from my skin.

I need to close up the window, but my curiosity gets the best of me. I want to keep touching my skin. Touch is a balm for me, calming my anxiety about the future. Putting the Fiberglas square back in place, I begin to wrap the ace bandage around it. The end of it is fastened back in place with hooks of Velcro into material. I lie back on the couch and continue drinking strong, hot coffee laced with cream and Sweet and Low.

And so begins each day of waiting. Waiting and healing.

 

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Convergence

Star Friends

 

They converged on my humble abode with dark roast coffee laced with cream, two packets of Sweet and Low and birthday wishes. There was birthday cake, candles and paper plates bearing the face of a goofy faced Easter Bunny. After all it is that time of the year.  That of renewal, and the promise of springtime. One of them apologized for the plates, but I told her they were perfect. One of them brought her children. Two little people that we placed all of our focus on and laughed uproariously at.

I talked to the littles about my broken ankle that had been rebuilt by surgeons and even showed them the secret window that had been sawed into my cast. The youngest one touched my skin and asked, ‘can you feel that?” I stated, “yes I can, and I can even wiggle my toes.” He giggled from the bottom of his toes, which made me do the same. My sweet friends sang to me and fed me chocolate cake drizzled with caramel (my very favorite by the way).

My five friends did their best to take care of me. Whether it was with cake, coffee, pulling laundry from the dryer, sweeping my kitchen floor or getting me a glass of water. After they left I raised my voice to God, telling Him how blessed I know my life is. I felt joy. Not only for them, but for my children and an ex-husband that I will always have a connection with. For my mother, my sister, my brother in law, my friends and all of the ‘other’ children I’ve come to love in the last 46 years of my life.

Life is good when you realize that we must strive for joy, not happiness. Happiness is fleeting. Only joy stays with us forever. A semi-famous writer told me that, and I do believe he is right.

46 years on this planet and I pray for 46 more. As long as I’m not peeing in plants. If I start doing that, take me in the backyard behind the garage and put me down.

Thank you to my five friends and the two littles. You all made my birthday.