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time to heal.

I’m getting back to writing again after a couple of months off to recuperate. In February, we went family skiing on Valentine’s Day. While I was getting off the chairlift, I lost my balance and fell, breaking my wrist in two places! It’s a trip we’ve taken for the past several years so we can teach the girls to ski where my husband grew up (in Iowa!) at this sweet mountain resort.

In the beginning, I was so disappointed about being injured. Basic things I love doing — especially writing and cooking — were pretty impossible. Choosing clothes that worked over a clunky full-arm cast left few options, mostly a couple of Tim’s shirts that took impossibly long to button most days. I was always cold, too, since none of my winter coats worked over my cast.

Apart from that, though, I felt really lucky I could still get around, drive and take care of my family. And I felt really really lucky I could take time to heal on my own, which I know many people aren’t able to do. Both Orlagh and Iris were so helpful and amazing, especially for a couple of weeks when Tim traveled and was away for work. Orlagh, at ten, pitched in on everything, holding doors, opening cans and bottles and packing lunches for school; Iris, at seven, was folding small piles of laundry as best she could, rolling things into little balls and tucking them away into drawers. There was no complaining about helping extra around the house and having cereal for dinner a lot of the time.

I took care of a few small projects: I went Marie Kondo on my desk, cleaning and getting rid of papers, old bills, receipts, and finding a place for some handwritten cards I wanted to keep. I relished being able to read non-stop: Brave Enough, with all of Cheryl Strayed’s heartfelt and meaningful quotes; The Clasp, escapist entertainment; Room, the book and movie that just about broke my heart; and When Breathe Becomes Air, which did break my heart. Not being able to cook led me to read about it endlessly after finding Lucky Peach, and McSweeney’s made me laugh every day.

Out of necessity, I got pretty good at changing out the toilet paper roll (who knew how tightly loaded those little silver spring canisters can be?!) and cracking an egg with one hand. After a couple of months of being in and out of casts, I’m more or less healed and able to type again, along with do most everything else. The forced quiet time my injured arm gave me felt really good. After worrying so much about all the things I couldn’t do, it turns out I didn’t miss a thing.

This entry was posted in: Journal

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