Ever since I fractured my fibula (left lateral distal fibula displaced fracture, malleolus, to be specific) five days ago, I’ve been doing nothing but looking down at what’s beneath my feet—something I wasn’t doing as I walked briskly along with my dog, Sally, on Monday morning, unaware of the sidewalk’s dramatic six-inch drop until I took a step into thin air and was sprawled on the walk below, my palms smarting from the impact with rough concrete.
It didn’t take long to notice that my left ankle was smarting even worse. A visit to urgent care and the tiny cursor on my x-ray confirmed my fears.
There is a certain rhythm to treating a fracture like mine—one that may not require surgery (yay!), if weight is kept off it for two weeks, allowing nature to take its healing course throughout the next three months of recovery. The routine is simple, but consumes vast amounts of time and energy:
- Ice in DonJoy Iceman foot case
- Encase in Aircast boot
(Emphasis on Repeat.) Insert Advil as needed but not to exceed recommended daily limits. Permission to begin wine hour earlier than usual: granted by medical professionals, when exercising common sense about (not) mixing alcohol with meds.
Exercising common sense is the only activity I’m allowed the next few weeks, as I await the next round of x-rays to determine whether nature is doing its job. But nobody ever said I can’t exercise vicarious thrills during this enforced inactive phase, and I’ve developed a keen urge to do the very thing I can’t. Satisfying this urge comprises my Top 5 List of Things To Do With a Fractured Fibula:
1. I won’t dance, so don’t ask me.
2. Maybe I can moonwalk, though.
3. Maybe not. Roller skates look easier.
Ouch! Excuse me while I ice the break.
4. So you think you can dance?
5. I can’t. Hoof it, that is. But I can type.
Repeat. Heal. Dance again. And until then, #amwriting. ♣