Monday, May 14, 2012

Well, I'm more unique than average today...

Today I went to the orthopedist (actually, the doctor's PA, who was very good) and got the scoop on my poor old broken foot. Naturally, it wouldn't do for me to have your garden variety, run of the mill boring kinda fracture. No, like any good addict mine had to be special. I have something called a "Jones fracture."

Here's what Wikipedia says about it:

A Jones fracture is a fracture of the diaphysis of the fifth metatarsal of the foot ... at the base of the small toe. Patients who sustain a Jones fracture have pain over this area, swelling, and difficulty walking. The fracture was first described by British orthopedic surgeon Sir Robert Jones, who sustained this injury himself while dancing, in the Annals of Surgery in 1902.

So now, I have a big-ass boot on my foot, which I will be wearing everywhere except in bed and in the shower for the next three or four months. They'll check it in a month and then another month after that, and if it's not healing right they might have to dive into me and put a pin in it. Happily, it doesn't hurt too terribly badly, so it feels a lot more like an adventure than an injury.

Anyway, I say if you're only going to break one bone in your lifetime, make it good. Make it dramatic. Make it count!

Highly technical legal and medical disclaimer: This is not my actual foot.

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Mother's Day.

Dear Mom,
I suppose you know I broke my foot on Wednesday. I was in the middle of a photo shoot, and I fell off of a box. It was awesome! The crutches, not so awesome. It doesn't hurt too terribly much, though, and it makes a pretty good story. And it gave me an easy writing prompt with which to reboot my blog after a long period of silence.


Happy Mother's Day, Mom. It certainly has been an interesting year. I moved, again. George died. I hit 30 years of sobriety. Your granddaughter started college and got a job. While she's testing her wings, I'm testing mine. (By the way, thank you for warning me that most mother-daughter relationships aren't as placid as ours was. That advice came in handy this year.)

This year, my faith has grown. I've learned to laugh more, and laugh more easily.  I've started learning to appreciate things about myself. Most of the time, I no longer feel much "guilt for being." But I've also felt deeper loss and greater fear than I've faced since, well, probably ever.

I'm learning how to be a friend, and a daughter, and a sister. I've become reasonably responsible with money. These days, more often than not, I do what I say I'm going to do. This is all basic life stuff, but for me it's real progress.  There's no way I could have grown so much if not for your unconditional love and support, and your wisdom.

I saw the New Mexico license plate at Roxx the other day. Thanks for popping into this dimension to say hello.

Thank you for leaving me your journals. They bring me great comfort, although at the moment they're packed up in some box or other. Oh, and thank you for telling me that when I ride the bus, I should always sit as close to the driver as possible. I always do.

I guess that's about it. Everything is as it should be, except that you are gone, and I am here. But then, I go back to what you told me when you were sick: "If we can be together across thousands of miles -- and we always are -- then mere death isn't going to separate us." And when I can look past the physical, I can see that you were right.

All my love,