Relative Something

When we moved here over ten years ago, we didn’t know anyone in the area. Slowly, we introduced ourselves to our neighbors. We met some contractors who did some work for us. Eventually, I achieved a connection that I was particularly proud of having. I could boast that there was a guy in Beldenville who was, “my welder.”

Now, just because I haven’t needed his services since the initial job he did for me years ago, it doesn’t keep me from bragging about knowing “a guy” who can do big welding jobs for me. Lately, I feel like I’ve been losing connections. I no longer can say, “My boss” or “My coworkers.” I don’t have any.

Cyndie, on the other hand, is adding connections. She now drops phrases in conversation like, “My trauma surgeon” or “My physical therapist says…”

Yesterday, her physical therapist said Cyndie should keep using both of her crutches for at least another week. At their next session, she can review progress to see if she can go to just a single crutch for a time.

It seems obvious if you think about it, but her therapist pointed out that standing on both feet is putting 50% weight on each foot. I was thinking about that as I walked back from the barn last night and figured out I was alternating between 100% and 0% as I stepped my paces up the driveway. For now, Cyndie isn’t supposed to put more than 50% weight on her right ankle.

Interestingly, she is making progress, but her movements since Monday when she met with the surgeon for the follow-up assessment seem a lot worse than how she was moving over the weekend. That is because when she wasn’t putting any weight on her right foot she had gotten very adept at using a knee scooter or leaning on a walker as she whipped around in the house.

Now she is less stable in her movements because she is actually wearing a shoe and putting weight on the right foot. Cyndie got excited the other day because she could see some veins in her foot for the first time since the injury and subsequent swelling that persisted.

Before we know it, she will be renewing a connection with the herd of horses down at the barn again.

I won’t even think of asking her to lift any bales of hay until her physical therapist says it’s allowed.

.

.