My achilles.
I’ve been staving off this particular injury since Dr. Bill wouldn’t let me play turf football five years ago in Newport, but when I met my awesome group of pickup football guys here, I just couldn’t help myself. I did massage, chiropractic, wrapping, acupuncture, icing, and all the things to prevent an achilles injury in my very tight tendon. I finally got it where my right was pain-free, and the left was wrapped and feeling good.
And then I planted and cut hard to catch a ball, and my right achilles tore. The good one. We don’t know yet if it’s partial or full.
My entire world just caved in. Everything I love to do, from sports to fitness to travel to walks to skiing, every bit of my self-sufficient existence, is out the window, out of the question not just for a few days but for what is most likely a few months.
I’m reeling.
I’m grateful for my body, I really am. I keep telling both of my Achilles how much I love them, and I’m so grateful for the fun I’ve had. I’m grateful for my flag football team and their incredible outpouring of support immediately and continuously. I’m grateful for my brother living next door, piggybacking me everywhere I needed to go including dropping me off literally ON the toilet, my family’s constant check-ins, my mom’s slumber party and feeding me, Bromance’s ironic empathy and morning check-ins. I’m grateful for an incredible boss and super supportive team.
I have a lot to learn from this, I guess. Sure would have preferred a different way of learning though…