Ten days ago, after spending a week wandering around Mojave Desert, I tripped over a stair, fell and broke my fibula at my ankle. The location of the accident, my friend’s house, was such a blessing, as he is a nurse and he “quick set” the ankle popping it back in place after it was all geeked out to the side before we headed to the ER. If this had happened while I was solo hiking at various times during the previous week in the Mojave, I would not be here writing this.
I went on this trip as a sort of “vision quest” so to speak: to research a new geographic area for a pending move, to spend some time with friends. But mostly, to spend some time alone, in the wilderness, with introspection.
Little did I know just what insight would be gained from this injury and subsequential time in the hospital for surgery.
I use exercise and movement as a way increase endorphins and ward off depression, with a side benefit of staying in shape. I am a perpetual motion type of person. Some may say hyperactivity, others ADHD… I just like to move around. I like the blur of the landscape as I bike by, the sound of my skates along a path…or the simple tranquility of a walk.
All of these thing are for now, impossible. As I am laid up with pins and a plate in my leg wrapped in a cast.
I truly have to just take things a day at a time. And deal with this as it unfolds.