Recovery

Amy took one look at my swollen, blue and purple left foot this week, and proclaimed: "That is one ugly foot."

Just what I needed. Commentary from the sidelines.  But as I sit here with that ugly foot propped up, trying to think through a pain killer-induced haze, I realize that being sidelined for a week is a major disruption in life.

The yard needs mowing, but the ugly foot can’t take the jarring of a lawn tractor over three acres or so of rough hillside mowing. A half dozen projects lie in wait around the house. They will continue to wait.

I was supposed to start teaching a Photoshop class this week at The Jacksonville Center in Floyd. Postponed.  A photo shoot in Blacksburg Thursday? Scrapped. I will have to wait until Monday to see if doctors declare the foot healed enough to head for Washington to participate in a conference on online journalism.

Even in so-called "semi-retirement," our schedules depend so much on being healthy enough to complete them in a reasonable time. A wrong step on uneven ground cracks two bones in a foot. Too many trips to a doctor who ends every sentence with "for your age."

So you’re at home, nursing that "one ugly foot," sleeping a lot because pain killers sap your energy and hoping that even simple tasks like a trip to the bathroom doesn’t bring searing pain.

Most of the time, life is good. Right now, however, it sucks.