These are the continuing adventures of a Swedish immigrant during her first year as an American. She boldly went where she'd never gone before...please come along on Adventures in America.
Last hip story, I promise. It's just that I'm writing about one year in my life, and a 1/3 of it was in that darn cast...but I feel like I can't leave you with me still immobilized. Closure and all that stuff.
I can't remember the exact date they cut me out of my prison, but it was in March. Silly me had expected instant relief and instant return to normality. Not so fast. What I saw when they removed the cast shocked me. My legs were covered in what looked like wax. Dead skin. It would take a LOT of scrubbing to get it off.
The other big surprise was that the knee which hadn't bent in four months, didn't really want to bend without severe pain. I had to be really careful and move it slowly, and just a little more each day. But oh the joy and relief of being able to take a bath! (Even if there was a layer of dead skin floating on top of the water when I was done...sorry, reality...) I could also scratch anything I needed to. Oh the contraptions Aunt Risky tried to make me to get inside the cast to scratch...partially successful, but you know how ALMOST getting to scratch an itch is almost worse than not getting to scratch it at all.
So to wrap this up: I spent 6 weeks on crutches, then a month feeling great and walking around, and RUNNING, and life felt normal.
Then the pins came out. 8 weeks of crutches. It was the most uncomfortable time. I felt so fragile – like if I moved wrong I was going to break it all over again. Then I was free. Big scar. Lots of life to contemplate, but the big ordeal was OVER.
I went on to become a gymnast, a long distance runner, a mountain biker, I climbed a 14er (for you non-Colorado folks, that's a mountain over 14,o00 feet. It's a status symbol to summit one. Kinda a rite of passage to be a “real” Coloradan). I RECOVERED.