It’s been awhile since I’ve written a post for OpenSalon. The last entry was in June. My post was a testament to my departed shepherd, Sultan. And I do mean “shepherd.” I had to bid adieu to ten years of all love the morning of June 24. On July 17, I broke a bone in my left foot: this unexpected accident proved to be a blessing and a curse.  

The blessing was, still reeling from the loss of the best damn dog in the universe, I actually welcomed the ten days of mind and bone numbing prescription release. Nothing like all the Percodan you can tolerate to keep you level. Plus, having to ice and elevate the foot four times a day kept me out of my office. I read books that had been waiting on me, and watched too much TV out of the corner of my mind. 

The curse was, I obviously couldn’t play tennis three times a week as has been my wont for more years than I care to count; I couldn’t dance, I couldn’t wear a regular shoe. I couldn’t continue the Zumba classes I had started two weeks before the accident. I couldn’t travel. But, I could think. And I thought a lot. Even drugged, I thought and thought.  And cried and cried. But, that was all from a safe distance. I was medicated. (Farewell, Sultan, farewell.) 

Along with the fractured bone that took five weeks to heal, I discovered I have nerve damage to two toes that may never heal without surgery. I’ll find out on September 29 what the prognosis is. In the meantime, still no fashionable shoes, no tennis, no Zumba. However, I can wear sandals instead of a boot, I can travel, and I got out my fifteen-year-old ten speed bicycle. I manage two miles through a nearby park at least four times a week. Things are looking up.   

This was one summer I would gladly forget. That I would undo if I had the power. That kind of power, however, is not mine. I understand that very well. Being the eternally optimistic Aries that I am, I search for the meaning behind the torment of the past two months. I’m about to embark on a delayed venture that’s close to my heart.  I see in hindsight that had I not been derailed by grief and injury, I would have made some serious errors in judgment that would have cost me dearly.  

There’s one good reason for my summer of silence.