Last week, when I first tried to walk with the boot, I didn't think I could do it. I thought I would have to call my doctor to discuss another solution and/or go to physical therapy. The pain was so intense and the movement so difficult that it seemed impossible to take even one step. I was so discouraged and depressed, I didn't want to try. But I did. I haven't said so, but I have thought a lot about my mother throughout this recovery, especially about her refusal to try to do anything at the end of her life. I can't say for sure that if I had another twenty years on me (as she did) that I would care so much about getting better. I can only say that I know I want my life to be back to the best kind of normal it can be.
Today, after a week and a day of walking with the boot, I did my first solo grocery trip. Granted, it was at Walgreens and it wasn't extensive, but I was able to get what I needed, put it in my car, and unload it when I got home. I walked through the store with my clumsy boot and found enough to sustain myself until I feel ready to go to the actual grocery store. (Walgreens is much smaller and items are more accessible.) I didn't think I could manage pet food and laundry detergent by myself, so I'll wait until I have help to get those, but I got some healthy foods -- milk, eggs, and green drinks -- and a few not-so-healthy ones -- Chex mix, ice cream, and salted chocolate caramels. It sort of evens out.
If you had asked me a week ago if I thought I'd be doing this well now, I would have replied with a hearty no, probably along with a few choice curse words. My foot still hurts, the boot is hot and heavy, and I have a long way to go before I can walk comfortably again. But at least I'm seeing improvement, and that makes me very happy.
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