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It's not my first summer wearing a ski boot

A summer gathering on Drummond Island.
Post-cocktail hour.


After the most recent episode of grace in action, I scoured my memory for the details of my previous broken foot. For the life of me, I couldn't remember if I'd broken the right or the left or the year it happened. Having also sprained an ankle, two things are fairly obvious right now (more obvious than the black cast adorning my right foot). One, I need to write more so that I have written proof on which to rely since my memory is clearly not what it should be. (More on that later!) And second, I am a first-class, gold-medal earning (if there were such a thing), klutz. Klutzy Kathleen. Even before MS was part of my daily life, I couldn't walk and chew gum without a potential disaster.

After unearthing the picture above, I discovered it was my left foot. An adorable nearly two-year-old Delaney is partially camouflaging the evidence of the black cast/boot. And it was July or August because we would spend a weekend there every summer with the Andary's, Waldenmeyer's and Allen's. This will be my second summer in a hot, black ski boot. Oh boy!

It's ironic, perhaps, that I'd just gotten the results from my first-ever bone density test in April. It was the first medical test I passed on the first try. I mean, I was ecstatic! After the dreaded physical in February and the resulting referrals for tests and more tests, it was great news to learn I had strong bones.

My take away for today, if my bones had been bad I could have broken a leg or had a more severe break. And, having had MS I'm fully prepared with a garage full of walking aids to assist my recovery.




Comments

It's not a popularity contest, but ...

When an ass is so much more

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Peter Pan no more

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Cabin fever made me do it!

Like nearly ever person in West Michigan, I have a serious case of cabin fever.  I won't waste your time however, complaining about the two-hundred feet of snow that's fallen in the last two hours. I won't share about the twenty or thirty times I've had to shovel my walk today as gusts blew it right back in my face. And I certainly will not lament about the temperatures that hover around negative double digits making your nostrils freeze together within moments of stepping outside. To bore you with tales of how we have to shovel areas in our yard so that our large dog and can do his 'duty' because the snow is deeper than he is tall and dogs for whatever reason cannot poop in the same place twice, is not what I will share. You will not hear about how when I open the slider to let aforementioned dog outside, gusts of wind blow drifts of snow inside and require a shovel to once again close the door.  Nor will I share how some roads around here are drifted shut be