...or maybe I was just wasn't listening?
So I broke my fibula. Jogging on a trail up in The Berkshires, a rock, gravity, physics, biology, snap. It's just the little bottom part of it, or so says the x-ray. It hurt pretty bad when it happened. I'm hobbling around pretty well, though, at this point. Only leaving my apartment a couple times per day. This is weird and I don't really like it. But there are no time machines so I better get used to the situation. Which involves a lot of thinking. About a lot of stuff. Stuff it doesn't seem anyone told me about. In Cog Psych last semester we learned about how little we remember correctly. Which really just means that while I swear the following were never told to me, that is likely untrue.
1. The first week or so after breaking a bone is very tiring. I was exhausted all the time. Get up and do something, tired, nap, do something else, tired, nap, repeat. It is 4:38 pm right now and I have been up since 6:30 with no nap. If I were a betting lady (which I am not but who knows what the future will bring) I would put money on my head hitting the pillow by 10 pm and me snoozing away the rest of the night.
2. Massage heals everything. I just got back from a massage (some of which consisted of saying "no please stay away from all of the boot"...the dude was cool with it) and I will say that my ankle feels awesome right now. Increased circulation may be the key here.
3. There is no substitute for running in treatment for depression. People suggest other activities but they are not the same. There is not the same release of endorphines or the incredible feeling of really sweating and trotting with a cadence and matching up your breath. But the more I accept, the more smoothly the healing process will go.
So off to rest I go. Or rather, I'll just sit here for a while longer. And think.