Eight Days without a Cast

It's been eight days so far since I've had my cast removed. Not a day goes by when I am not thankful for being able to take a shower without the plastic bag that leaked anyway, and having to summon Chris for my every need. (It's funny how his hearing waned as we approached the six week mark of my injury.) I had my last checkup yesterday, and am cleared for activity, as long as it doesn't hurt. Orthotics have been ordered and I'm on my way back to running...well, sort of.

I walked a mile today with Chris and Elvis, albeit very slowly. I only experienced one shooting pain on our way back at the corner of Nine Mile and Woodward. (No that this detail matters, but I thought I'd set the scene.) Considering what my foot had been through, I think that's pretty good. Miraculously, I was able to shake it and make it home, relatively unscathed. I know my body is working hard at building bone and new synapses, and my new found patience (wishful thinking here---bear with me) will serve me well.