My forehead is still sore, 5 days later, from the impact of the helmet on my head as I hit the ground. This is a pain that I am immensely grateful for.
It all started with an "easy" ride about 45 minutes away with Lisa, Jean and Colin's daughter, who is a lovely, 22-year-old hippie. About ten minutes in, my horse got spooked, for reasons still unknown, and I went flying overboard. When I landed I looked down at my left leg and saw the sole of my tennis shoe facing me. The fact that my ankle was performing such an extraordinary angle caused immediate concern and Lisa phoned Jean to come.
Luckily, in addition to being a pretty remarkable person, Jean is a medical doctor and the obscenities that escaped her mouth upon seeing my ankle trigged me to begin whimpering in fear.
We raced to the hospital, which, as I mentioned, was 45 minutes away, with Jean and I holding my dangling ankle the entire way. The emergency room staff immediately put me on oxygen, as I was going into shock, and inserted an IV and morphine (pure delight). Then, two huge buff black men entered the room and the nurse told me they had to re-set my ankle. Many drugs later, I was admitted to surgery and came out to my South African "family" Jean, Colin, Lisa and my dear Canadian friend Patey.
I spent the night in the hospital and went home fully drugged up and with a half-leg cast. The past 4 days have been a lot of lying around, reading, listening to French-language CDs (might as well learn a new language, right?) and staring out windows thinking 'how did this happen?'
Today was the first summer thunderstorm, which I was grateful for. Oh, and the last minute thoughtful of a friend who came over to make me sushi. Such are the small pleasures, but I figure a little thankfulness can't hurt at the moment.
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