Can I Get a Refund, Please?

This poor blog. It has been ignored for years and before that, barely attended to. I went for long periods of time just posting Maxine Mondays, and nothing else. As much as I love Maxine, she isn't enough for anyone to return to, to continue reading a blog. 

Not sure what I am doing here now, since I know there is no readership. But I really have the urge to write lately. It only becomes a problem when you don't know what to write about, or for whom. 

So for now I think I will write for me. If no one reads it besides me, that's fine. An online diary? That's a little creepy to consider. But it will be whatever strikes me at the moment. 

And right now, that is how my body is letting me down. I have been walking for exercise. I've begun listening to music instead of audio books and it propels me to a faster walk and I don't mind going further. Farther? My grammar sucks. However, my knees are saying oh HELL NO. I am experiencing medial knee pain, I looked it up. Medial knee pain is pain on the inner aspect of the knee. Both of my knees hurt, not just one. It makes me sad.

Once upon a time in my early 40's (I think) I started walking, mostly to work off anxiety and upset about a relationship I was in at the time. And I walked as long as I needed to and as fast. No worries at all. I don't remember any pain other than ordinary tired muscles. 

But now, WTH??

Not going to stop. I enjoy the music, I enjoy fending off future health problems, walking is my form of exercise. Not going to let my stupid knees ruin it for me. So I've found some exercises to help strengthen my knees that I am doing. I have shortened the distance temporarily, and am very careful about how I walk. Got new shoes. But I'm just plain pissed off that now I have to accommodate my body instead of it just doing what I want it to. 

Who designed this thing, anyway? I am dissatisfied.

February fog

It’s foggy outside and I am drawn to it. Always have been and I don’t know why. It’s usually not too cold and there is a stillness that isn’t ordinarily there. Besides – it’s really the only time you can SEE the air. Think about it.

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 Chicago is rarely as gentle as it was that night. The combination of melting snow along the edge of the sidewalk, rain and cold made the going slower than usual. Coming to an exceptionally large and deep looking puddle I carefully stepped to my left to avoid the worst of it.

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!