Confessions of a blessed Immobile

Three months on, I am better now.
I have come a long way. An unseemingly arduous, uphill way from the instant I slipped off treacherous ice on New Year's eve.

That instant is emblazoned in my memory. Or rather incinerated. And will remain singed forever. I must have re-lived it, replayed it and analyzed it innumerable times in the last 3 months. Picking my brains as to what could I have done to avoid it.

31 Dec. 2107 hrs. It was snowing outside. In fact, it had snowed almost daily since the past 2-3 weeks. All lanes, bylanes, walk ways around us were hard black ice. Inside the house, we were dolled up and ready to leave for the party venue. Our cab arrived. I stepped out while my husband was locking the house. Then began a 50-steps deceptive walk towards the cab.

I must admit, I have never been a very care-free walker on hard ice. Walking on snow is a cake walk, but treading on slippery ice scares the living daylights out of me. Perhaps a precursor of what was to come. There have been days where I have made almost military-esque strategies to cross sloped iced terrain to reach the bus stop.

I started taking measured steps towards the place where the cab usually arrives. In my intense concentration to keep my gravitational pull vertical on ice, I had failed to notice that the cab had slowly moved forward from the usual place and was no longer in the direction that I was progressing in . My husband, however, took notice of this and headed off in the actual direction of the cab. He even called out to me to correct my direction, but I was a tad too preoccupied.

My husband reached the cab first and was requesting the driver to reverse it in my direction (so that I could stop where I was and not take one step more). I must have been about 20 steps away from them when the unthinkable happened. I lost my balance and slipped a wee bit. Jerked off reflexively ever-so-slightly and I thought I had recovered. But it was exactly the opposite. The start of a head long tumble. Frantically tried to hold onto anything that I could find on the nearby car's bumper, but in vain.

One split second and one instantaneous scream later, I lay sprawled on ice, my handbag flung 10 feet away, its contents scattered. But that was not it. I immediately raised my leggings to check whether my foot was in order, when the most awful sight met me. Something the size of a huge lemon was jutting out from a very foreign place on my left leg and my ankle was nowhere to be seen. That was it. Sanity left me and I was shrieking uncontrollably or rather, hysterically. In fact, I could have sworn that voice wasnt mine. Trauma does strange things to people.

Well, we ended up taking the cab to the Accidents & Emergency unit in party outfits and I celebrated the start of the new year taking generous breaths of gas anesthetic, while Dr. Martin and his 2 assistants set my ankle right and draped a temporary Plaster of Paris cast over my leg. I had dislocated my ankle and had broken it in 3 places. My life, as I knew it, had abruptly ended.

Well, 1 plate, 9 screws, 8 nights in hospital, 100+ painkillers and morphine doses, 5 plaster casts and 3 months later, I can proclaim that I am now at peace with myself. No longer do the questions 'why me?', 'why again?', 'why so terribly'?, 'why now'? bother me anymore. In fact, I consider myself blessed to have broken only an ankle because I have seen much worse injuries and broken limbs in my hospital ward - broken hips, broken shoulders, broken knees - you name it and there were matching patients. Interestingly, one of my colleagues broke only his pinky due to a slip on ice. Now that's what I call freakin' lucky!

As I have realized, temporary immobility has its own advantages. You get treated like royalty. Well, if not exactly that, then, at least like a local baron. You get everything on a platter. Tied with a pretty pink bow, if you like. Hot super-healthy food without the customary chopping, grating, sauteeing, toiling in the kitchen, a warm finger bowl after meals accompanied by a dry towel to complete the 5-star experience. No household chores like cleaning up the house, doing the dishes or even laundry. It gets done automatically. Or if you are superlatively fortunate like me, then your significant other pampers you to no end. I think he is a sure candidate for sainthood!

You dont have to drag yourself out of bed every Monday morning to earn a living or fight the natural elements on the way to work. You dont have to spend any money on flowers; they come walking with your friends week after week. Friends suddenly turn into angels with glowing white fairy outfits and matching halos and voila, you have nutritious home-made food at your service, without as much as lifting a finger.

You have all the time in the world to watch the pristine white clouds go by or see new leaves sprouting on trees or even feel your fingernails grow. You can watch all the movies you had been waiting to watch, you can devour books faster than a bookworm, you can see all the daytime television that you never had a chance to see and what more, you can even devote as much time as you had always fancied for mindless addictive games like Farmville or Cafeworld. You can spend the entire day talking with your friends, catching up with the latest gossip or be online for practically the entire day on social networking sites. There you go! So much to do and so little time.

Well, did I mention that I am partially weight-bearing now?
Sigh, why do all good things have to come to an end!