The real estate market might be a little slow, but not so slow I've resorted to selling feet pics. This one is on the house. You're welcome.
Sometimes life be life'n. Sometimes it breaks your heart. Sometimes it breaks your foot.
You can be cruising along, feeling pretty damn good about where your life is headed, with a calendar FULL of plans and a heart full of excitement around what's coming next, and BOOM! In approximately a fraction of a second, life decides you've gotten a little too comfortable and reminds you who is actually in charge. Apparently, I needed a fairly aggressive reminder that it is not me.
I am broken. Literally. Friday night started out with a bang. Brad and I were celebrating the marriage of two of our favorite people, surrounded by dear friends, having a fantastic time at a beautiful venue. I was feeling especially excited about everything we had coming up over the next couple months. Holiday parties, events, filming for a big project we've been working on for several months, and a lot of good quality time with many of the people we love. Our calendar was packed, which, if you know me, is exactly how I prefer it.
Then, out of absolutely nowhere, the groom tripped and fell directly on top of me, taking me down with him. Yes, the groom. At his own wedding celebration. You really can't make this stuff up. I very likely saved him from a broken neck (at least that's the silver-lining I'm feeding myself).
One minute I was enjoying a lovely evening like the dancing queen that I tend to be in situations such as this, and the next I was sprawled on the floor, in pain, with my dress haphazardly up around my waist. Nothing says sophisticated wedding guest quite like an unexpected wrestling match with the groom and an accidental wardrobe malfunction. I was hurt, humiliated, and desperately wishing I could disappear into the floor.
Everyone immediately rushed over to make sure I was ok, and the big concern seemed to be my hip. I'm not sure if it was the way I landed or if I've officially reached the age where people assume a fall means I've broken a hip. Either way, thanks for the vote of confidence, Friends!
To be fair, my hip DID hurt. Actually, the entire right side of my body hurt. However, I knew almost immediately my foot was going to be the real problem. As I went down, I felt something snap inside my boot (still glad I wore the boots because they were 🔥). The pain was intense enough to make me nauseous. I'm talking puke-in-your-mouth-and-swallow, sweating-like-a-whore-in-church kind of pain. I managed to get myself together with some help, and Brad and I caught a ride home shortly after, missing the rest of the celebration.
All I wanted was to get home, lie down, curl up with Auggie, and be alone long enough to cry and figure out what the hell had just happened. I needed to assess the damage in the privacy of my own home.
Once we got home, I somehow made it up the approximately 700 stairs to our bedroom. Ok, maybe there aren't 700, but I assure you there were at least 699 too many. I spent most of the night trying to find a position that didn't make me want to scream, finally getting a little sleep Saturday morning.
Naturally, our next move was to go get BBQ. Good food instantly makes everything better, right!? Maybe not, but it at least temporarily distracted me from the possibility my footbones were disconnected.
After lunch, we headed to Urgent Care. The weekend crew at UCHealth was absolutely wonderful, and I am incredibly grateful for the care I received. After an assessment and some x-rays, they confirmed what I already suspected.
I WAS BROKEN.
Two fractures in my right foot. MY RIGHT FOOT!! We are still waiting on an orthopedic appointment to find out whether there is additional damage and if I will need a pin in my third metatarsal. Surgery is a possibility, which could mean an even longer recovery period. I am willing that possibility away because I JUST CAN'T.
For now, I am completely non-weight-bearing. No driving for an estimated 6-8 weeks, and potentially more time off my feet depending on what the orthopedic specialist finds. Six. To. Eight. Weeks. 😑
If you know me personally, or you've followed my adventures for any length of time, you probably understand why this news has been particularly difficult to swallow. I am not a sit-around kind of gal!
I love being busy. I love my routines, walking my dogs, taking care of our home, running (some) errands, being social, and having two or three appointments or events on the calendar every day. I genuinely enjoy cleaning and doing laundry, for crying out loud! I know, weird flex. Now, in the blink of an eye, pretty much all of it is on hold.
No dog walks or hikes during this gorgeous Colorado fall. No driving myself wherever I feel like going. No spontaneous outings, and probably no ski season this year. Even picking up my snuggle bug Nash is completely off limits right now. The everyday things I do without a second thought suddenly require help, a workaround, or a big fat NOPE.
I am three days into this adventure, and I am already going a little crazy.
Also, I have a few things to say about these damn crutches. I HATE them. I have never been particularly skilled at operating more than one piece of sporting equipment at a time, which is precisely why I am a snowboarder instead of a skier. Now I am expected to coordinate two sticks, one functioning foot, and my entire body weight without launching myself into another medical emergency? This plan is extremely sus...especially when every hop feels like these things are trying to finish me off.
The hardest part isn't even the pain or the inconvenience. The hardest part is the sudden loss of independence. I am a wildly independent woman. Some (Brad Colburn) might even describe me as stubborn, although I am sure those people are exaggerating. I like doing things for myself, on my own schedule, without having to ask someone else to help me get from Point A to Point B. Having to depend on other people for things I have always done without thinking is going to be a serious challenge for me...one that I am not anticipating with any amount of pleasure.
I know how fortunate I am. This could have been so much worse, and I am genuinely thankful it wasn't. I know my bones will heal, I will eventually get back to doing the things I love, and in the grand scheme of life, a couple months really isn't very long. That being said, it still freaks me out!
I think we sometimes feel obligated to immediately find the silver lining when something goes wrong. I know I do. I'm a HUGE finder of the silver lining. We often rush to remind ourselves how lucky we are, how much worse things could be, and what an amazing opportunity we have to learn and grow from the trials and tribulations put in our path.
All of those things are true, but sometimes you also just want to throw your crutches across the room, scream a few four-letter words, and cry like somebody stole your Birthday. For the record, I know throwing my crutches across the room would be a terrible idea because then I'd have to ask someone to retrieve them. Don't ask me how I know.
I have no doubt there will be lessons in all of this. I am already discovering how much of my identity is wrapped up in being able to go, do, help, organize, and take care of things. Sitting still while the rest of the world keeps moving is not something I've had much practice doing, and apparently, I am about to get a crash course.
I am determined to make the most of the next several weeks. There is plenty of office work I can tackle, projects I can focus on, and probably a few things I've been putting off because I was too busy running around non-stop. I will figure out new ways to get things done, and I am sure I will get better at navigating life on one foot. I'm just not going to pretend I'm excited about it.
To everyone who has already reached out with offers of rides, mobility equipment, and help with the little things, THANK YOU! I appreciate it more than you know, even if accepting help makes me queasy. Brad is also about to discover just how many things I apparently believe need to be done around our house, so please keep him in your thoughts and prayers.
Maybe learning to accept help without feeling like I have somehow failed at being a capable adult will be one of the bigger lessons in all of this. Maybe I will discover a newfound appreciation for slowing down. Maybe I will just get really, REALLY good at using crutches and bring them into my normal life for fun, once I'm fully healed. We shall see.
For now, I am broken, frustrated, grateful, and doing my best to keep my sense of humor intact. Life changed my plans in an instant, and I don't particularly appreciate the timing, but I'll work through it.
And to our clients, If you see me hobbling up to your doorstep, answer the door. I am making a HUGE effort to bring you a little holiday cheer. 🧡💛🤎
