Quiet Miracles
Okay, so not to be all touchy-feely and all... but um, it occurred to me on Saturday, as I was actually climbing around the bunny slope to take pictures of my kids warming up their ski skills, that I'm living this miracle and that I haven't noticed it lately.
Huh?
Well, to recap: In 2007, I had major foot reconstruction surgery after it was discovered that my foot was full of deformed bones. I'd been abusing my feet for 42 years before this discovery was made and it might have taken even longer to figure that out except I, well, couldn't walk. So, there was this major surgery and the recovery was long and excruciating and after all was said and done, I still couldn't walk. When I DID walk, the pain was so intense that it stripped every bit of joy right out of my life. I spent six months on the couch, really depressed. Then my podiatrist had this middle of the night ephiphany when it came to him that the source of my pain was actually something different from the cause of my surgery. He built me some custom othotics and my life (and mobility) began again.
(That was the reader's digest version.)
Right before we came away for this weekend ski vacation (from which we will have already returned by the time you read this, Mr. Internet Robber-Person. Plus, the only real thing of value we left behind were our pets. If you want one, we suggest you take the black-and-white dog named Scout. He's the one with the crazy eyes who may or not have just peed on your foot.)
Anyway, it occurred to me that a short time ago, climbing even a bunny hill in pursuit of my kids would have been impossible. Have I mentioned how grateful I am to be mobile?
I would hate to have missed those faces.
Huh?
Well, to recap: In 2007, I had major foot reconstruction surgery after it was discovered that my foot was full of deformed bones. I'd been abusing my feet for 42 years before this discovery was made and it might have taken even longer to figure that out except I, well, couldn't walk. So, there was this major surgery and the recovery was long and excruciating and after all was said and done, I still couldn't walk. When I DID walk, the pain was so intense that it stripped every bit of joy right out of my life. I spent six months on the couch, really depressed. Then my podiatrist had this middle of the night ephiphany when it came to him that the source of my pain was actually something different from the cause of my surgery. He built me some custom othotics and my life (and mobility) began again.
(That was the reader's digest version.)
Right before we came away for this weekend ski vacation (from which we will have already returned by the time you read this, Mr. Internet Robber-Person. Plus, the only real thing of value we left behind were our pets. If you want one, we suggest you take the black-and-white dog named Scout. He's the one with the crazy eyes who may or not have just peed on your foot.)
Anyway, it occurred to me that a short time ago, climbing even a bunny hill in pursuit of my kids would have been impossible. Have I mentioned how grateful I am to be mobile?
I would hate to have missed those faces.
Comments
I've had a broken kneecap (no surgery), knee surgery for something else, and foot surgery, so I know what it's like to be immobile and in pain.
Cute, cute girls!
And thanks for the kind note about my Lewis. I sure do miss him.
Wonderful!
(And great kids. Those are cute kids.)