After learning a valuable lesson about carrying my cell phone whenever I leave the house (I had to yell for help until our tenants overheard me and thought I was being attacked), a trip to the ER, surgery, and staying off of my foot for 2 solid months, I'm finally getting back to work and life.
My work was amazingly flexible after my injury and let me work from home while I was housebound. This way I didn't have to take the time off of work and use all of my vacation time or not get paid (two not great options).
Last week I was told I could start weight bearing, and I headed back to work soon after. I thought that my physical therapist was a little nuts when she told me she thought I would be back to walking normally in two week, but after weight bearing with crutches and a walker all weekend, I can imagine a full recovery that soon.
My surgery took place the day before we found out about my cousin Brad's death, and we all found out the evening I was discharged from the hospital. Everything about that weekend was surreal, but being on pain killers, and not being able to leave my parents' house, where I was staying, was pretty rough. I saw my immediate family, but other than that I felt incredibly isolated. While everyone was gathering at my uncle's house, I was at home, mind racing, heart breaking, and worried sick about my cousin Erin, my uncle and aunt.
Mentally, I'm noticing that I lump that whole awful series of events together, so I am thrilled to be getting out of the house. To me, it sort of signifies closing out that period of time. I'm really happy to leave that adventure behind me. Onward.
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