Patience is required

I waited for four months and just when I thought I was going to be released from knee therapy, I learned that I had to have more surgery.  My knee was finally healing but the broken ankle still did not look right.  I soon learned that it was far from healed.

I had been told originally that there was really nothing to be done. The two broken bones would heal while I wore my little ankle boot. Oh, contraire.  Major bones had to be rebroken. Tendons had to moved and the joints had become something of a trash heap of bone debris.  I sure wish someone had paid enough attention when they were working on the knee to take care of the ankle. Oh, that's right.  I then learned I was being treated by a "knee specialist" but now I needed an "ankle specialist." Silly me, I thought an orthopedic surgeon could handle them both.  Guess they both have bills to pay and tanks to fill. So I was shuffled off to another partner in this maze of specialists and medical bills.

Now here I am, almost seven months later, limping along with a swollen foot, strapped into a walking boot in the hot Texas summer.  I did not get released today to begin therapy or even start wearing even tennis shoes. No, I am still hobbled and I have learned that, in spite of my best efforts, I am unable to float in the deep end of my pity pool.

Someone hand me a margarita.