I Know It’s Just My Toe

I did not want to go here for the winter, but now I sit on the couch, restless, trying to settle into a routine where slower is faster and “toes above my nose” is the norm.   What I know:  Pain free walking is the goal, and 6 months is a small investment to heal these lame, misshapen feet.  How it feels:  My resistance to sitting still and staying indoors is powerful.  Healing is harder than I thought.  I miss my bike!!

Noted with some acrostic poetry.


Feeling suspended in time

Rummaging though stuff

Useful to the infirm

Simple tasks are hard

Tipped over a coffee cup that

Remained from yesterday

Apparently I didn’t finish it

Then my scooter-cart coasted

Itself all the way across the apartment

Opted for safety and scooted on my butt

Noticed that the floor is filthy.

How the small annoyances send me

In defeat

Back to the couch to

Elevate my foot

Recovery is

Nowhere on the horizon

Afflicted by frustrations

That seem tiny when I say them out loud

Injured by the pantry door

On the way to ice my swollen foot

Now the gel pack heals my head instead.




2 thoughts on “I Know It’s Just My Toe

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