It’s been 26 days since I fractured my foot in a freak accident and all my plans for March 2023 (which until then was to be my busiest month of the year) crashed and burned in a flaming heap of life-really-can-change-in-the-blink-of-an-eye.
Recovering in the one city I was certain to not visit anytime this year, it seemed like a good idea to pen down what it feels like to have my leg immobile in a cast:
The unbearable pain of the first two days when even the heady cocktail of 4 different painkillers fails to work is as bad as it gets. It’s only uphill from there;
When the situation begins to look dire, thinking of, and preparing for, the worst possible outcome is (counterintuitively?) the best form of self care. After getting emergency care on the night of, I lay awake in bed and prepared my mind for the worst - I will likely not be able to attend my best friend’s wedding, I will likely have to cancel my trip to London and Scotland, I will likely be out of action for several weeks and will be dependent on others for even very basic tasks - and when the orthopedic doctor confirmed exactly this the next morning as he plastered my leg in two rolls of blue plaster, all I felt was resigned acceptance. At least the doctor’s not telling me anything I didn’t already know;
I will never take the ability to walk for granted every again. Many a lofty promise of walking all across maximum city once I return has been made. (Quick aside - in stark contrast, I can’t wait to take the act of visiting the restroom for granted again! Pah, it really is a Herculean task at present!);
There is a difference between pain and suffering. Pain is the discomfort of having an itchy cast on my leg. Suffering is blaming myself for not paying attention to the road, blaming the universe for not looking out for me, blaming nazar…you get the gist. Fractures are easier to bear when I choose to acknowledge pain without giving in to suffering;
Life is difficult, transitioning into adulthood even more so. When I choose to look at the world and the actions of people around me through a lens of the hermeneutics of generosity (which was a lot easier to do inside a college campus bubble and a lot harder out in the real world - hard, but not impossible), I am a happier person and the world does tend to reinforce my beliefs (turns out I’m now heading to London in July!);
The pleasure of the simple things remain - eating home food (oh rasam! I have missed you so), catching up with friends and family, sighting a woodpecker as it swoops in to eat the heap of steaming rice our neighbour leaves out on the compound wall, watching Ke Huy Quan accept every award coming his way with exuberance and extraordinary grace, the Ted Lasso darts scene, Kishen Das’s podcast that lasts just as long as a cup of evening chai, yet makes me feel so seen and heard, listening to stories of my aunt’s childhood that reminds me that members of my family were also young once (and were faced with similar number of myriad life paths, equally unsure of which would work out for the best), getting back to introspecting and writing; and finally
Broken bones take 6 weeks to heal - that’s either 6 weeks of misery, or 6 weeks of time-out to really think about what I want from the coming 9 months of 2023 and what I will do to get there. It’s going to take a lot of effort, and quite a bit of intentional living, but as I step into Week 5 of recovery, I’m beginning to understand that I have a lot less control over what the world has in store for me, and a lot more control over how I respond to it, than I realized.
Here’s looking at you, kid! What do you think the world will be like once this itchy cast gets removed?
Loved reading this sru♥️♥️♥️
You were present in the wedding through our thoughts!