Tragedy in the style of the Greeks

Dear Internet,
I’m deeply sorry for the last month of silence. It was not fair to you, to me, or to the dozens of wonderful people who have reached out to me. I have a fairly good reason for at least half of that time:

If you’ve been following me around the social spheres, I talked about this surgery quit a bit in which I opted to have the arthritis and bone chips literally chipped away from my right ankle and the tendon in my right calf cut and lengthened. The original injury occurred in December of 1994, when in the throes of exam week, I slipped and fell on the ice glossed driveway at my parent’s house. This ice aerobics gave me a double fracture and a dislocation in my right ankle, later binded by 12 pins and a plate. When the pins and plate came out, the doctors told me at 22 that I would have fairly severe arthritis. I laughed. By the time I turned 30, the arthritis started making its introductions to my body and by the time I was 35, was becoming a roommate in the vein of single white female.

Timing, money, and finally having excellent insurance lined up gave me the privilege of having the clean-up surgery done, which should have been done a decade ago. TheHusband and I packed in a summer’s worth of travel the two weekends before the surgery and since June 28th, my only view of the world has been the taupe walls of our bedroom and from the Macbook Air on my lap.

Nearly two weeks after the surgery, I was back at the doctor’s to have the staples removed (total of 30) and my walking cast put on. Instead, I found that a blood blister on the exterior incision warranted enough of a concern that my doctor ordered another 4 weeks of non-weight bearing use, which is rendering me pretty useless (also thus, no walking cast). In the last two weeks, I’ve only been down stairs twice, left the house once, and my world has become vaguely Rear Window-esque (except for the murdering neighbor part).
I’ve watched a lot of bad television, read some sketchy literature, and spent a lot of time doped up on pain killers. I had a lot of wonderful plans to do with this time, considering that I had nothing but time to spare. A little more than a week after my convalescing started, I lamented to a friend that I had done nothing that I had planned during my time “off.” Her reply? Why was I putting myself under so much pressure to complete all these things? I was supposed to be resting!
I understood her point, I do understand her point, but I can’t help but feel that it is during this time that I could make a lot of changes that I’ve been wanting to make: emotionally, physically, and mentally and I’ve done nothing but read all of the Internet. You could, fairly accurately, surmise that this is the crux of my life.
And this needs to change.