It's been a helluva month.

I didn't want to wake up today. Even as the sun beamed in through the skylight, pressing itself between my eyelashes, uninvited – I squeezed shut my eyes even tighter.

It was my second night back up in my sleeping loft post-accident, and my first night alone again – a solemn return to solitude.

Though I lived here on my own for a few months in the summer of 2016, T would spend at least a night or two each week sleeping beside me. This time – I hugged a pillow instead of him, and cried myself to sleep, knowing he wouldn't be returning any time soon.

I've cried a lot these last two days. I knew it was coming, and I know our reasons are sound, still – my heart grieves.

So many little things inspire tears as I move through a space that was ours; the repeated realization that...he won't be coming home again.

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Braving The Ladder

Before he packed up and said his goodbyes, he spent one last night at my side. I took advantage of his presence, having him spot me to ensure I was alright making my way up and down the ladder with my injured foot.

Turns out I can manage just fine using my right knee – slowly, carefully, with a firm grip. It was a little scary, but I was willing to risk it.

Two weeks on the couch has wrecked havoc on my back. For the sake of my overall well-being, I need to be resting on my good mattress – even if it means traversing the ladder, back up to the loft I so recently fell from.

Though my heart is ailing, my spine is complaining less, making it ever so slightly easier to navigate these changes.

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Yes, It's Broken.

I finally met with a podiatrist on the 28th. As I strongly suspected, the radiologist who claimed my foot was 'normal' – that my x-rays revealed 'nothing of concern' – was either high or lazy.

Just as I was told the day it happened, there's a displaced fracture or 'chip' on the head of the 5th metatarsal on my right foot. As well, the doc suspects I have a non-displaced fracture on the head of the 4th. He could see that the heads of the 3rd, 4th and 5th were all smashed, the 4th appearing a bit 'torqued', as well.

The good news is – no surgery necessary. Though I can't presently move my little toes, the doc thinks I'll regain full mobility eventually.

So...I've got at least 4 more weeks in the boot. Then more x-rays, and we'll see if I can start thinking about driving again.

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Perhaps I'm feeling these breaks a bit more than I was when I wrote my last post, but I'm alright with that; I knew I'd have my challenging days.

I may be acutely aching today, but that might not be the case tomorrow. I'll just keep doing my best to maintain a healthy perspective over the coming weeks.

It's a lot all at once, but I trust – this, too, shall pass.

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