Last Friday, 5 December, I was walking out to my gym in the barn, fondly referred to as The PumpHouse, and my mind was on the deadlift session I had ahead of me. I look forward to training and being out here is one of my happy places. In one hand I carried my training journal, my iPad for music, my phone to record the session, and my water bottle. In my other hand, I had a new and beautiful Christmas mug that was gifted to me from friends. I had a steaming cup of coffee that I was looking forward to sipping at. It was Friday evening and I was feeling fine!
Then….
I stepped from the bare sidewalk onto the snow-packed driveway and my footing slipped. I knew the second that my ankle bent to one side in a 90 degree awkward sideways position to my leg that this wouldn’t end well. As I continued to fall (I’m pretty sure it was in slow-motion), the coffee left my mug, the electronics left my hands, and my water bottle dropped to the ground. Once I stopped falling, my first thought was, “Wow, I can’t believe I’m still holding the mug and it didn’t break!” My second thought was, “Ohhhh something hurts. I don’t think this is just a sprain.”
After that, it could’ve been 1 minute or 10, as I held my left leg behind my knee and rocked and groaned, trying to breathe and ignore the waves of nausea and light-headedness. The cold air felt good and as my breathing normalized, I knew I needed to assess the damage. There was swelling along with an abrasion, but no bones. Whew. Okay, could I find a way to stand? I tried to maneuver myself to get up and the pain was searing. I found my phone and called Leo and somehow rather calmly asked for help.
After an attempt to get upright, which we did, I quickly vetoed the idea of hopping back to the house. Any jarring felt terrible and I was lightheaded again. He got the car and drove it next to me and I got in. He went to the attic; I’d told him where to find the crutches we’d kept from another ER visit and we left for Meyersdale. I just knew it was what we needed to do.
About 30 minutes later we got the X-ray results: a bimalleolar fracture of the ankle. Basically the bottoms of the leg bones (the tibia and fibula) both sustained a fracture, but were thankfully non-displaced. No surgery, but I needed to be non-weight bearing until I saw an orthopedic doctor; I would call them on Monday.
It was a rough first night of little sleep. And yet, even though my world just felt like it came to a crashing halt, I felt peace. I felt a sense of “it’s good to be okay.” I wanted to worry about my massage business and income. I wanted to fret about winter hikes I might not be able to do. I wanted to cry about not being able to train deadlift and squats. But, there was peace. An undeniable peace that defies all logic.
Maybe this “gift” of a broken ankle along with all its accessories isn’t all bad. Who knows what life lessons I will learn through this experience?
So as this time of healing begins, I may be writing more. It helps me process my thoughts, and gives me a place to look back on when I want to remember. My coach Sam reminded me that this is part of my story. He’s right. And I have a choice in how I approach it in my attitude. Let the healing begin. Onward.
Love, Dianne
