by Deb Bull, 06/22/2020, South Boardman, MI
“Is there ever a good time for a broken ankle?“
I have discovered the answer to that age old question: “The early days of a pandemic aren’t a bad time, to be honest, if that’s the path you’re headed for.”
It started out innocently enough:
A. I was recently retired
B. I love gardening
C. We still had the bones from our old hoop house in the attic of the barn.
Fast forward a couple of late April hot, dusty, rusty hours later, and after one-too-many trips up the stepladder, I found myself in the Emergency Room instead of admiring my handiwork. Isolated from staff, and spouse, awaiting the X-ray results, I had plenty of time to ponder my dilemma.
It didn’t take long to realize I would not have to worry about keeping my Type-A busy little self contained during this period of isolation.
I would most likely not be the least interested in anything more strenuous than lying on the couch, reading and eating bonbons.
So, while in fact, I wouldn’t suggest a broken ankle as the best means for slowing ones’ general pace down from sprint to trot to sedentary, it has led to an unexpectedly zen-like approach to the puzzle of reducing the angst of the pandemic isolation.
And a not-so gentle reminder to be careful what you wish for…