I’ve been home from camp five weeks, and things are pretty much back to normal – most things anyway. I no longer burst into tears for no reason, and I rarely break out into my own version of the camp theme song, complete with motions. I still think about my girls often and pray for them daily, but I no longer find myself obsessing over how I might adopt one or both of them. But then there’s my ankle.
If you’ve followed my camp series, you know that on Tuesday night I slipped gracefully off a 3-inch curb and injured my ankle. The camp nurse checked it out and said she thought it was sprained. She wrapped it and kept me well-supplied with pain reliever and ice packs, and I hobbled through the rest of the week. When I got home, it was still quite painful, swollen, and discolored, so I called my primary care doctor and made an appointment for the following Tuesday.
After his preliminary examination, Dr. Miller agreed with the nurse, that it was probably sprained. But just to be sure, he sent me down the hall for a few photos. I don’t mind X-rays, but I’m not sure why you have to sit on a metal table that’s just a few degrees above freezing. And I wasn’t too crazy about what they found – a spiral fracture of the fibula. I walked into his office with an ace bandage and walked out with this extremely uncomfortable splint and a referral to an orthopedist.
A week later I visited with Dr. Graves. He checked me out and studied Dr. Miller’s X-rays. He said that, since I wasn’t an athlete (he didn’t see the picture of me on the zip-line), it would probably heal without surgery. Instead of a splint, he sent me home in this lovely boot. It’s heavy and hot, but at least I can take it off to shower and sleep and when I’m just sitting. I’ve done a lot of sitting lately.
I went back for a re-check and more x-rays earlier this week. There was good news and bad news. I’m healing nicely – new bone is forming and there has been no movement of the bone. The bad news is that I have to wear the boot for at least another month. Looks like my garden will stay overgrown and my housework will remain marginal for a while longer.
I wrote a post before we left for camp wondering if a week would make a difference for these kids. In the video I posted earlier in the week, Wayne Tesch indicated that others have wondered the same thing. Based on what some of the kids said in the video, I have to believe that a week of concentrated love and attention does make a difference. I will forever have an identifying mark on the fibula of my right ankle as a reminder of my clumsiness, but more importantly, I will forever have a mark on my heart reminding me that just maybe a week can make a difference. It made a difference in me.
For more information, go to the Royal Family Kids website.