Okay…so the leg. I won’t go on and on about it but, I have to admit, it has been life changing for me. I had to REALLLLYYY slow down while I healed. And somewhere in there, I actually calmed down too. New York has a tendency to make you feel like you’re running a race or that someone is following you and you have to keep ahead of them. Well, when you’re hobbling around on crutches – or not, in my case as I had a non weight-bearing cast – it’s a different world. I’ve gained a HUGE respect for those folks who are differentially-abled. And funny thing too, people tend to get out of your way like somehow your condition is contagious. Ha! Anyway ---

Initially in Greece when the x-rays revealed I did have a broken fibula, I was put into a soft-cast sorta splint thingy. Then two weeks later and back in the States, I finally got a cast – and a sentencing from my orthopedist for up to 3 months in the damn thing. Well, you might as well throw me in a hole and toss some dirt on me. However, a combination of Steve’s inability to continue to drive me to the City for after-care and my reluctance to accept the orthopedist’s prognosis as the bottomline, led me to seek out a local orthopedist. Which turned out to be a good thing as not one month to the day I broke my fibula, I was out of my cast and into physically therapy. Gotta love those aggressive sports med orthos! Had I listened to my ‘old skewl’ ortho, I’d still be in a cast instead of going on that 9 mile bike ride I did last Sunday. And the consistent, stable pattern of healing is a blessing at my age. Onward, I say! Okay…enough about the leg