Beads, Ashes, Hearts & a Walking Boot

    Interesting week.  Tuesday was the celebration of Mardi Gras, the last day before Lent begins.  I have fond memories of spending the day on St. Charles Ave. in New Orleans, catching beads from the endless line of floats.
    On Wednesday I made it to the church for the morning prayer time when ashes would also be offered.  I'm so glad there was this alternative as it would be difficult for me to negotiate our chapel with crutches at the evening service.  Plus I've missed making it to this weekly prayer time.
    Thursday was the celebration of Valentine's Day.  I found it interesting on facebook how many friends shared "larger ways" of celebrating beyond just couples sharing their love for one another.  Considering that St. Valentine was a Christian priest who helped Christians escape the persecution, it seems like a holiday named in his honor should encourage the deeper (and perhaps more dangerous) love that was central to Jesus' ministry.
    Today is Friday.  The day of my Dr. appointment.  Four weeks ago he told me that if the x-rays looked good I might get a walking cast today.  Well, they took off my cast, took the x-rays, I got a walking boot, but I'm still not walking.  I'm to continue with no weight on the left leg for another six weeks! To the end of March!  That will be three months since my slip on the ice.  I tried to think good thoughts as I walked out with my new boot.  After all, it will be great to be able to take it off and move my toes and ankles.  I'm already thinking  of the ease of showering without having to put plastic around a cast.  Hopefully I'll sleep better taking off the boot and not having a cast on my leg any longer.  But my mind continues to return to SIX more weeks hobbling precariously on crutches.  This is a Lenten journey I hadn't expected.
    But I should have expected it.  At my first follow-up appointment back in January I asked him about a trip I had planned to New Orleans in March.  He pointed out I could be still hobbling on one foot, so I cancelled the trip.  At my last appointment he did say, "if the x-rays look good."  My mind heard, "the x-rays will look good."  This morning I learned that everything is healing well except the bone has not regenerated enough around the lower screws to allow moving to a weight-bearing stage.
    As I was thinking to myself, how can I get through another 6 weeks, I remembered the article I read last week about the Iraq soldier who lost both legs and both arms in an armored vehicle explosion.  He was in the news after receiving two arm transplants.  As I read the article I thought how does one deal with that - with the fact that it won't be healed in 7 weeks or 13 weeks, or any number of weeks: the arms and legs are gone.  It's pretty sobering and I give this young man lots of credit for his outlook on his future.  He was glad to be alive.  Since the explosion in 2009 he has moved forward with his life.  He learned to walk on prosthetic legs.  And now he hand arms and hands.  I loved his comment that was something like, "I can live without my legs, but hands, I need them for so many things - even talking!  It's hard for me to imagine ever saying "I can live without my legs."  I have a feeling this young man has loving, supportive people in his life.  We all need loving, supportive people in our lives to help us through the difficult times, whether they are for weeks, months, or however long.
    I have been surrounded by such a community, but among everyone else my husband, Richard, has stood out.  Tonight as he hands me a glass of wine then heads back to the kitchen to finish up dinner, I will say a little prayer of thanks (this is the only part of my recovery that I will miss).  I'm not yet to to the place that I can put both feet on the ground and help out in the kitchen, but I am firmly grounded in gratitude and humbled by those who help others each and every day. Thank you!