I Owe You All

I’m stuck home, waiting for surgery. I tore my ACL and damaged my MCL two weeks ago, skiing.
Funny how names, that were foreign to me until then, belong now to my daily vocabulary.
Until this injury, I haven’t thought much of my body. I trusted it or rather took it for granted. An injury is a shocking wake up call. Bodies can break.
An unknown world is opening its doors to me. I discover facilities I had no idea existed in a town I thought I knew. Imaging, surgery and physical therapy are here to enjoy if needed. I bet there are as many as the Starbucks.
Over the last two weeks, I met people I had never heard of and whose faces and names are becoming as familiar as my friends’.
The surgeon’s waiting room is packed with sport trophies. A football helmet with the Trojan logo, a baseball player’s tee-shirt, a poster with an army plane, a soccer ball covered with signatures and many thank you notes, all from perfect strangers who have yet something in common with me: a damaged part of their body that required some form of repair that only an expert can provide.
I am on a pre-surgery regimen that should remind me of my daily work out. It doesn’t.
Being home since January 5 is not something I do easily. I would live outside year long if I had a choice. So, as I have been warned that recovery will be a long bumpy road, many thanks are already due.
I’m thankful for the fog that has made its bed on the valley floor for the last few days. It makes it easier to stay inside.
I’m grateful to John Grisham and Ken Follett for providing constant, trustful entertainment. Each of your book takes me far from the pain and boredom.
I’m appreciative for the frequent e-mails I receive from family and friends. Thank you, computer geeks for our high tech world.
I’m thankful for CNN for broadcasting more news than I can digest and for the Sunday edition of the New York Times. For once I am finished reading it before next weekend and can make smart comments at dinner time.
I’m grateful to my kids who let me borrow their books. Children’s writers are so good. I’m finally catching up with my list of must reads.
And I’m indebted (for eternity) to my husband who has brought me breakfast in bed every morning (almost) since I damaged my knee, who has cleaned, shopped and cooked for the entire family, who had driven me to my many medical appointments and who used the Starbucks drive-through, despite his dislike for the drive-through, so I wouldn’t have to use my crutches in the narrow café.
I owe you.
I miss my knee and can’t wait for the day I will stand up on my two feet and say, “Thank you.”

%d bloggers like this: