I seem to have this weird problem of breaking bones just prior to big life changes. Way back in 2005, at nine months pregnant, I had gone downstairs to check how much water had seeped into the basement- this was a regular occurrence in the spring and summer months in Southeastern Nebraska- the combination of totally saturated soil and ancient basement made it inevitable.
Walking down the stairs, I made the classic mistake that so many people who can't see their feet make- I thought the second to last step was the step closest to the floor, stepped down as if going to the flat, cement surface, tripped on the last step and landed my foot on my toes going down. Thankfully all I did was make a really pretty crack right through the cuboid of my right foot- but it looked awful. I have faint memories of my then four and two year olds yelling "Emergency! Emergency!" at my mother who had literally just arrived from Colorado. I remember being glad that I'd cleaned the house.
Four days later, I had Ben.
This time, I'd gone into town to visit a friend who was driving through with some of her school friends. We had planned to have lunch together- but on the way there I was rear-ended hard which shoved my car forward into the car in front of me, and then the lady behind me hit me again. Which made me hit the girl in front of me again. I had the idea that I'd maybe sprained my toe. I have one of those weird second toes that sticks way out in front of the big toe. I climbed out of my car and hobbled around back to survey the damage. It wasn't good. I hobbled around to the front to check on the girl in front of me who was already freaking out into her cell phone to her dad and rubbing her neck. They took her away to the emergency room, but she was fine. Her car sustained a small-ish scratch on the bumper. About 1.5 inches long. She was fine. She went on vacation the following week (in her car), resulting in a small amount of nail-biting stress concerning what she'd tell the insurance people when she finally came back.
I got home by driving with my heel. My foot was complaining. I still thought I'd just sprained a toe, or possibly now the upper part of my foot. Toward evening, I realized that I could no longer walk, and so this seemed like just the time to go to the Emergency Room. My husband was in Iowa. I didn't think to ask anyone to take me. Nope- just me and the kids in the mini-van relying heavily on cruise control and going very, very slowly down Highway 103 toward Crete with the hazard lights on.
Broken foot. Again. One week from a move to another state. Awesome.
My mom flew in. My brother-in-law helped out with the loading. My neighbor came by and assisted with the hefty stuff- and his lovely wife cooked meals for us. We made it. But I don't recommend this particular method of getting-out-of-doing-everything. It's tedious, boring, and useless-feeling.
Then my cast got wet. No idea how, but the very last day I could have gotten in to have anything done about it, I called and they took it off and put me in the Darth Vader boot. Which I've been wearing ever since.
We've been here for one week. I'm feeling better, and I've powered through most of the unpacking. We've had meals and gone grocery shopping and gone to the library and met neighbors (one does a politics show on PBS- I am insanely excited about this). Last night we watched the Heritage Days Fireworks Display. Things are calming down and organizing themselves- as complications often do.
My mind views most challenges as a hill I have to climb. When complications happen, it's as if the hill no longer has any discernible path. There's a boulder at the top, just waiting to fall on anyone who looks at it funny. And there are a large number of cougars up there who live around the boulder, completely surrounded by no prey animals, resulting in a collection of very, very hungry cougars and all it takes is one wrong move and you're done. Finished.
But somehow, you usually make it. I think it has a little to do with acceptance and the way you approach problems. If you try to control everything- if you try to become the problem to your problem- you give it power over you. Sometimes just breathing and ignoring are the best paths to take. It's what we tell children to do with bullies, and I believe that a bully can manifest itself in the form of a human being, or a bill collector (those aren't human beings) or a doctor's office policy that won't take third party insurance and which requires injured people to bear even more of a burden of an accident they didn't cause. Problems are usually caused by people, but once they become a policy, they are somehow out of the hands of every human being in charge of enforcing them. It's out of their hands as servants to The Policy. The Policy rules all.
So, breathe and ignore. And enjoy the beautiful things- which are always there.
