Bad news/good news

Flowers from Amye Cole

It is not encouraging when the orthopedic surgeon meets you in the hall and says, “It all fell apart,” meaning my ankle by it. Then, in the examining room, he kept repeating, “It’s a mess. It’s really a mess” and shaking his head. I had suggested to the Lord this morning that it was my turn to get some good news but apparently he didn’t hear me. The bones, which were aligned three weeks ago, have shifted and stress fractures have added to the problem. Not what I wanted to hear.

So next Tuesday I have an appointment with a trauma orthopedic surgeon who specializes in ankles. Apparently I’m looking at surgery with screws and plates—not at all a pleasant prospect, but the surgeon said I’ll never walk again without it. The office manager said it’s a two-to-three-hour surgery but this guy is a wizard.

I view it as bad news but Jordan said she’s encouraged because it’s a pathway to healing, and I will admit I’m not making progress as it is. So I guess the sooner the better. All summer plans are on hold, which is okay. Except for a trip to Tomball, I didn’t have any big summer plans and my writing isn’t at a critical stage—would that I were in the midst of a manuscript I needed to plow ahead on. I realize that she’s right but the prospect of surgery, feeling yucky, and 10-12 weeks recovery doesn’t please me. Then again, I’ve already put in five weeks on this ankle, and it’s not any better. We see the new surgeon Tuesday.

Tonight Jordan fixed me a cheering meal—salad, tortellini with olive oil, and, of course, wine. She set the table for a formal dinner for two, and we had a good time, though my appetite has once again left me.

Kind friends have brought gifts. Here is the doll/bell that Mary Helen Cornelius brought—she said it’s my best friend. I can sit and ring for help. We need to name her, but I’m not sure what. Jordan says in trying to take care of all things—alarm system, home health, all that—she has run into a lot of Judys and Julies. So maybe that’s the name.

And a basket of potatoes from my neighbor, who has a bumper crop and a lush garden. For years I had a series of unsatisfactory neighbors in that house—I hasten to add after Sue and her children left—so Jim’s presence is a real gift. He helped Jordan get me up the steps from the drive to the porch when we came home.

 

And I am blessed with gifts and friends and neighbors who really care.