Ouch!

I did something stupid this morning. I hope I don't come to regret it.

I was standing outside on the front porch this morning, waiting for Joan to arrive to take me to physio. It was a beautiful morning with sunny skies and very mild temperatures. A hornet was buzzing around my head and I swatted him with my hand. He landed on the porch on his back and I watched him buzzing angrily in a circle as he tried to regain his power of flight. I didn't wait to give him an opportunity to sting me; I raised my right foot and STOMPED him hard.

A sharp pain raced up and down my shin from the site of the fracture. I drew in my breath quickly and squeezed my eyes tight shut. It really hurt, Ms J. It was still hurting when I arrived at the physiotherapy clinic fifteen minutes later.

After I'd removed my cast, Barbara examined my leg and felt carefully along the outside of my shin.

"I can feel some swelling there," she said, "but I don't feel any separation of the bone. I think you might be alright."

She looked at me with a very serious expression. We both understood the gravity of this and the consequences of re-fracturing the bone: More weeks, maybe months in a cast and more months of recuperation.

She began to smile then. She tried not to, Ms J, but she couldn't help it. Together, we began to laugh. I mean, it's just so ridiculous to do this after all this time. I was nearly all better. How could I have been so foolish?

It's evening time now and my leg is tender where it wasn't before. I go to visit Dr. Roscoe next Tuesday. I had hoped he might give me permission to remove my cast permanently, but now I fear I may have re-injured my leg.

I'll be good, Lord. I promise. I'll wear my cast tight. I'll do my exercises. I'll not put ANY weight on that leg unless I'm wearing the cast. And I'll NOT stomp my foot, for any reason.

Maybe, just maybe the x-ray on Tuesday will show no damage and instead, indicate sufficient healing to warrant removal of this cast. Fingers are crossed, Ms J. Fingers are crossed.

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