I have found my Achilles heel. My right achilles, to be exact. It is a new weakness that has thrust my less than peaceful self into days (and maybe, heaven-forbid, weeks and months) of forced relaxation and anxiety-ridden emptiness. I now find myself in an endless game of twister where my right foot is never allowed to touch down on any color or surface. I long for a call of "right foot blue!" but my new three limbed body is learning a new balancing act.
This is all recent history. Just six days ago we were at the Long Beach, CA airport after a spectacular family vacation that took us on a tour of California's central coast - from San Fran to Monterey to Carmel to Big Sur to San Simeon, to San Luis Obispo to LA to Newport Beach. While awaiting our delayed flight home, my husband, son, daughter and I played soccer in the airport courtyard, juggling the ball back and forth. After a bit of practice, I was feeling pretty good, and was up to three juggles in a row, the kids and my husband laughing hysterically as my long giraffe legs kicked and flipped in the air. Then, on perhaps my finest go - right, left, right, left, my right foot came down and sort of wobbled. I hopped to the nearest bench and touched the back of my ankle to find that there was nothing attaching my foot to my calf. My foot just wobbled like an upside down bobble head. The pain was intense but mostly I focused on not passing out.
After the initial shock, my family jumped into action and I found myself in a wheel chair headed to Long Beach Memorial Hospital. We spent the rest of the day there and didn’t get home to New York until 4:30AM. I am now with a cast and crutches and according to the nurses, will need surgery.
I am so bummed. That means no driving or swimming or spinning or yoga anything for me this summer.
If you are reading this, and would like to do a mitzvah, please come visit. Or better yet, come rescue me from this long, potentially very boring, summer.