Well, a couple of days ago I sprained my ankle. So badly that I still am unable to put any pressure on it. It’s not broken, I’ve had an x-ray, but it’s been the most painful experience so far this life. The first night was agony in bed where the ‘weight’ of the duvet felt like a thousand swords through my flesh. I quickly devised some cool Ice and Elevation systems but did have some trouble staving off the inevitable self-pity that pain and isolation seems to provoke. (Tim and Tony and anyone else who was at the Gay Ski Week party in Queenstown bore the full force of that via text message – complete with a visual assualt via pxt of photos of the swollen foot). Now, the bruising has started to show, and after Scott the physio told me it’s the worst sprain he’s ever seen, and since being given a sunflower by Nicki, being driven around by Bagley, being visited with gifts of Dal, Cookies and Crutches by Tony, Grant and Stephen – I’m starting to feel better. At times like this I seem to thrive, even more, on sympathy and attention.
I’ve made a few small changes to my journal (you may have noticed that you can subscribe to it by email now) and I’ve read a book. I’ve made myself Carrot and Orange soup and I’ve spent more time online than I have in quite a while.. yet the foot is still not better. I’m haiving another day off work tomorrow then I fully intend to be back on deck on Tuesday, with crutches, of course.