Being Grateful for Stuff I Didn’t Expect To Have To Be Grateful For

I’m grateful I can walk on my own two, reasonably good as new, feet. Finally.

I broke both ankles in July, the day before July 4th to be exact, had surgery on both on July 4th, and have been learning to walk all over again since.

Did you know you could forget how to walk? Neither did I. It’s given me an entirely new respect for the work of toddlers. In fact, they average 2,368 steps per hour. I was lucky to get twice that in an entire day before the ankle breaks. Toddlers also fall 17 times an hour, so they win at learning to walk. One fall was enough for me.

How is it possible to forget how to walk after more than a few decades of doing so? Pain is the main culprit.

So, I’m grateful for my surgeon, Dr. Duncan Murphy, pain meds, my physical therapists, my shiny red and black rollerator/walker, my cool Nike high rise sneakers, and motor memory which is trying its best to come back. I’m also grateful to my sister, Elaine Cole, “the funny one,” and my niece Laura Moore for trying to make me behave while taking care of me.

In case you forget how to walk someday, although I certainly don’t wish it on anyone, here’s what you do. You walk heel to toe. Simple and easy, right?

Until you actually become aware of it, and then it’s hard as hell. It’s like what happens when you become aware that you can’t see your face.

Try that now. Try to see your face without a reflective surface, that is. From now on it will drive you bonkers that you can’t see your face. I guess that should have had a trigger warning.

Back to walking. When you’ve forgotten how, you have to concentrate to walk heel to toe. But there’s more, so stop thinking about not seeing your face and keep reading.

You also have to push off with your toes, not your heels. The toe push is the real secret. Without that, we, and by we I mean I, walk like Frankenstein, flat footed and stiff legged.

For some reason known only to our weird brains, when there’s pain in ankles, feet or knees, the brain tells the knees to stiffen up. Not only does this not help, it hurts. Even toddlers learning to walk know to lift their cute, chubby little knees.

Also, to avoid walking with feet wide apart like Frankenstein, you must remind yourself to walk with your feet closer together. This can be hindered by your thighs rubbing together after months of little exercise and no walking. Or, you can do what I do and use the rubbing together as proof you’re doing it right. Silver linings.

Then there’s the pain. Have I mentioned the pain?

I’m exceedingly grateful for the fact that most of the pain is gone. I’m also grateful for the pain that remains, because it reminds me to take it easy, take care of myself, and walk the fuck correctly. I’m hard-headed. Even my physical therapist, Jessica, has to constantly remind me that the work we are doing ISN’T SUPPOSED TO HURT.

I’m a martial artist in Aikido. I use the current tense because I went back to it after an 8 year hiatus three months before I broke my ankles. Ironically, I didn’t break them there, I broke them stepping off a broken flagstone step outside one of my favorite restaurants.

The point is, I’m trained to continue through pain. I’ve broken toes while sparring and not noticed till we were done. I laugh in the face of pain. Ha, ha, pain, I laugh in your face.

No pain, no gain? I’m all over that. Except, you aren’t supposed to feel pain in physical therapy. You scale back, do the exercises carefully, ease the pain nerves, and build muscle very, very slowly. It feels like I’m just standing still. Which I actually am when practicing balance for 30 entire seconds at a time.

The pain I feel currently is from a sprain of the ligaments in my right ankle, which apparently happened at the time of the fall, but was overlooked because of, you know, broken bones. The doctor says sprains take longer to heal than broken bones. An odd fact you have my permission to use at parties.

The remaining pain is psychological from not being able to go all out, like toddlers do while falling 17 times an hour. Maybe if I go all out and just make sure I fall on my butt, I’ll be okay. Plenty of padding there. However, the doctors and physical therapists are pretty insistent I not do that. Friends and family agree. Sigh.

So, I will continue to be grateful that I have good medical people and family and friends making me behave while I learn to walk again.

Now if I can just stop thinking about not being able to see my face.

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This post was previously published on MuddyUm.

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