Sunday, December 23rd, 2018. The day it happened. My husband and I had been hosting “Christmas Camp” with our four grandchildren. This was the day we’d planned to take them to the snow in Easton. Our son lives there. He and his wife were looking forward to seeing their nieces and nephews.
As grandpa (Bub) kept the kids occupied with playing a game, I was doing what grandma’s do – packing up the car for the one hour trip. I had an arm load of coats, ski pants, blankets, etc. and headed out for the umpteenth time to the car in the driveway.
Without seeing the step, I must have miscalculated the distance, and with my left foot stepped onto what I thought was the first step. Only, it was the second step. My foot landed harder than I was ready for, and my ankle didn’t like it.
My foot rolled inward, and I stumbled down the driveway. Thank goodness the minivan was backed in, and not far away. If it had not been there to break my fall, I would have gone all the way down.
The pain was instant. I could barely breathe. I probably cursed out loud, although I can’t be sure if I only thought about doing so.
After taking a moment to catch my breath, I placed the coats (still in my arms) into the car. I limped painfully back into the house.
“I twisted my ankle” was the only description which came to mind.
I had to be strong for the grandchildren. I didn’t want to ruin the fun they were looking forward to.
“Of course we’re still going to the pass,” I replied in answer to my husband’s question.
The outside of my left ankle immediately began to swell. My husband (a former ski patroller) wrapped my ankle and provided ice. He then had to complete the loading of the car.
The car ride was miserable, but by the time we arrived, the ibuprofen had begun to take the edge off. I limped around in the snow that day and played with the grandchildren as best I could. My son and his wife handed out gifts for the children, and we had a fun day.
Within a few days, my entire left foot was swollen and bruised. I believed I had twisted my ankle and it would take time to heal. I limped around for about a week, but most people probably wouldn’t have noticed.
I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia more than 30 years ago, and therefore daily pain is my constant companion. My left ankle was still sore and swollen even weeks later when I started working out with a new trainer. I was practicing patience in healing. I was sure the Fibromyalgia would slow the process, but I expected it would happen.
By the first part of April, 2019 I made the decision to see a doctor about my ankle that wasn’t fully healing. It was still swollen, sore, and often caused pain. I was certain I’d hear: