Another landmark

We drove past/through the accident site for the first time today. It was hard. The plan was to avoid that canyon entirely and just go to the Temple Quarry at the mouth of Little Cottonwood, but as we got closer, James felt like we should go. I agreed.

We both about soiled ourselves when we saw a full-size pickup in the opposite lane, even though it was clearly on its side of the line and nowhere near the crash site. We both recognized the spot when we reached it, and it gave me chills. We both laughed; it felt like whistling past a graveyard. But we made it. I'm really glad no one was coming around the corner the same time we did. It might have been too much. Atticus was playing with his Scooby Doo toys and didn't even notice.

Going back down was rough. Not through the crash site, though it was interesting to see the site from the other driver's perspective. But there's a small, blind s-curve (not the big one--this one's narrower), and there was a long line of cars coming the other direction, one car after another that could cross that line at any moment.

I've thought about what has been the worst part of the whole experience. It isn't the injury or the pain at all. One strong contender is the withdrawals from the pain meds. I'd tried to be careful, but I still went through about 10 horrible days feeling all the physical symptoms of anxiety and creepy-crawly skin (not to mention the gastrointestinal effects), wanting to take something--anything--to feel normal again. I had Xanax but was afraid to use it in case that became habit-forming, too. (I couldn't get the image out of my mind of a woman on "celebrity rehab" freaking out because her doctor took away her Xanax. Don't ask why I was watching celebrity rehab....) I did take Valium, but only at night. Eventually it passed.

But even as bad as that was, it wasn't the worst part. The worst part was seeing that truck coming toward us, knowing that we were totally helpless to avoid the crash. And I couldn't get away from it. I couldn't get out of the car, so I spent the whole time staring at the truck's grill through our broken windshield. That feeling of helplessness and vulnerability hasn't gone away, even outside the canyons. Every intersection, every time we hit the freeway, every time Atticus gets in someone else's car, I know it could happen again. James says the feeling makes him both more cautious and more reckless: you don't want another accident, but you're pretty sure you'll be ok if it happens. I haven't gotten there yet.

I don't hold any hard feelings against the other driver. I can't imagine how it would feel to be the cause of someone else's injury. He was distracted for a second, just like I am all the time. And I can't say I'm sorry I got to spend a good chunk of summer in bed, watching tv and letting other people bring me jello and snacks. Sure, I was uncomfortable, but  it wasn't all bad. I had no responsibilities other than healing, and it was a nice break. And I get handicap parking for the rest of the year. I'll be sad when that expires. And a new car, which I think I like better than our last one.

If I had a choice, of course I'd rather we didn't have the accident. It's changed us forever. But we survived, and we're doing ok.

The evolution of a foot.

July 23

7 August

Mutant foot from outer space. 

7 August

Nasty, fibrous super-scab. I had to gradually cut that off for the wound to heal properly. Yeah, I mean with scissors.

28 August

Das boot. Hot, nasty thing.

28 August

This was probably in the morning, since there's not a huge difference between the two.

7 September

Aaaaaaand this is in the evening. 

First and last time I've worn those shoes since the accident. (Man, they really need a polish.)

When I wear tennis shoes I have "muffin top" ankle. 

I had the big screws taken out a week and a half ago, which immediately decreased my joint pain. The incision still hurts, and the stitches don't come out for another couple weeks. They were supposed to come out next week, but my doctor is out of the office. I'd be tempted to take them out myself if I didn't need to ask the doctor some questions.

I've been going to physical therapy, and I have much more flexibility in my ankle. My therapist says I'll get 90% recovery within about six months. The last 10% takes another six months. And I'll probably have arthritis in this ankle from now on, but staying active will reduce the symptoms. My insurance covers only 20 PT visits per calendar year, and I've had 12. So we're going down to one visit per week, and I get to go back to the gym for the rest. I've been using a seated stationary bike at home, but I need to work on my hips and legs more specifically. Rowing machine, here I come.

Overall I feel like life is coming back together. I still have no desire to cook, but our house is back to normal and I'm back at work a couple days a week. Atticus is back at his old preschool. We love his teacher. James is back at Hunter High. So we're getting back to normal. Just don't ask me to walk very fast.