A stranger approached me and my broken foot comfortably suggesting to me ‘lucky you were having fun while you broke it’.
Which got me thinking… I was having so much fun even after I broke it. Getting home with Donald involved waiting an hour for a taxi which never arrived, being piggy backed across a main road and then from Alexandria to Central station during peak hour. I don’t think I stopped laughing till the next morning when I realized I had done some proper damage and needed to go to the hospital and have surgery.
But then my lovely boy came to visit me everyday till my surgery and he’d kidnap me from my strict and constant elevation of my foot. I’d prop myself in a wheelchair and we’d leave the hospital and smoke some juicy joints and delighted in all my favourite foods for four days.
I feel so blessed and so grateful to have such great support from my friends for driving me everywhere and bringing me a lifetime of junk food, delicious alcoholic drinks and greeneries.
As much as I’d like to gloat about how the last three months have presented me with insurmountable challenges, which have allowed me to grow and flourish into a stronger person, realistically I just indulged in my temporarily disabled lifestyle. My only responsibility was to brush my teeth and have a shower (didn’t even have to put my dish in the sink after eating) and even then sometimes I just embraced the idea that if I REALLY needed to be hygienic, I’d be presented with two feet to stand on.
I don’t want to feel like I’ve romanticized the last three months because it hasn’t been easy. When you spend a great deal of time alone and forced away from the distractions of having a living routine you get hit a bad case of broken foot blues. I have cried countless times just out of pure frustration but shout out to Keeping up with the Kardashians for keeping me sane this whole time, I feel so lucky to have 7 new sisters. Fate has proved itself once again.