I haven’t walked in the fog since a February evening about 8 years ago. No, 7. Whatever. It was a wonderful night; there was a light misty rain and lots of melting snow on the ground and puddles on the sidewalks. And ice. Did I mention ice? Yeah, ice hidden under the water in the puddles.
Walking is the best form of exercise for me and I had gotten away from it somewhat. I was disappointed in myself and that night I pulled my car into the driveway when I got home from work, got out and started walking. Not sure if I even went in the house first.
I wasn’t going far, and while it was foggy and misty, dark and wonderful out, it was still winter. February in
Suddenly there was an awful noise, the sensation of falling and total disbelief when I found myself sitting in the puddle with my foot bent at about a 45 degree angle from my ankle. When I moved my leg the foot just stayed there – frozen in that oddly abnormal position. There was no thinking at that moment, there was just action. I did what anybody would have done. I reached down and bent that foot back into place ignoring the crunching sounds it made as I did it. After all, if it looks normal, it IS normal. Right?
Uh uh. Looking around I realized I was all alone in a puddle in the freezing rain without my phone or another person in sight. At night. The house directly in front of me was completely dark. There was panic and nausea and the realization that I had to move. Trying to stand was a treat. Somehow I did get up but when I tried to put weight on my foot – there was no support in my ankle. It was like the foot was not attached anymore and indeed, when I lifted the leg – the foot just flopped, there was no control.
Down I went back onto the ground where I turned over onto all fours and proceeded to crawl up a wet icy driveway scattered with stones, dragging my foot. The people were quite surprised when they answered the door and found me sitting on their porch telling them my ankle was broken and asking to use their phone. Not a nice way to end a lovely walk in the fog.
It turned out I had broken all 3 bones in my ankle so there really were no bones attaching it to my foot at that point. There was surgery and pins, screws, and a plate. And 6 weeks on a recliner
watching Court TV. Every day. All day.
I still love the fog. Driving home this evening was great, and feeling the damp on my face walking to the car and to the house was wonderful. But these days? These days when I hear the fog calling my name? I ignore it!