This is not my ankle

If you told me I’d feel this way with surgery and hardware, it would’ve been hard for me to truly comprehend the notion. I can feel the screws in my ankle. I can feel the pressure of my muscles trying to figure out what this foreign body is inside me. The tightness, the discomfort, the throbbing. I know it will fade over time. I know my body will eventually surrender. I know this whole experience will become less and less clear as the years go by.

But the hardware, the screws, the plates, those are mine forever. My ankle feels like a stranger. I don’t know this ankle. I don’t trust this ankle. I don’t even like this ankle at all. I move my left ankle in every direction possible and it’s smooth and reliable. It makes me smile. That’s my body. My functional, strong body. Then, I turn my gaze to the stump of a right ankle and I feel anger and disgust.

I know I’m not paralyzed. I know my injury is so small compared to others. I know I will go through all the phases of grief and one day, transition into acceptance or maybe even appreciation but for now, I’m no where close. Future thinking is always dangerous. Getting caught up in the endless possibilities becomes torturous. Maybe I will be the exception and my healing will restore me back to my old self. Maybe I will be better and stronger and find a deep sense of gratitude for this break. Maybe I will never be the same, never skate again, never run a race again. I try to stop all those thoughts from consuming me. Nothing good comes from focusing on things I can’t control.

For now, I will mediate between myself and my ankle, try to keep the peace and not feel so betrayed.


Author: mytruthbysarahwhaley

I’m a 38 year old mom, wife and aspiring world changer. I play roller derby, do Crossfit and try to be as active as possible (probably too active at times). I love Jesus with all my heart and in turn, passionately love others. I am obsessed with my dog and food.

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