So my medical appointment revealed a medical marvel: my bones had completely healed.  This is really “one for the books” since bone healing simply does not occur before 6-8 weeks post injury – even in kids.  There is no medical explanation.  I was ordered to start PT immediately and I no longer have a cast; rather, a walking boot.

The boot, while removable, has proven to be awkward and challenging to put on and take off.  So by and large, I’ve been sock-footed.  I’ve been too uneasy to spend much time really bearing weight on my bad led as I fear falling.  It’s getting better each day.  And for the record, apparently Physical Therapists are obliged to read and take to heart 50 Shades of Gray as they seem to delight in mild torture.  But it’s working.

Up this morning at 4:30am due to a muscle spasm in my back and contemplating the news that my brother is now in the last stages of hepatic encephalopathy.  He’s agitated, confused, combative and my sister in law wants no one to come and help.  Not that I could easily come with the wheelchair, walker and all – but she is shutting out all of the sisters.  I understand this is her husband.  But others have had a role in his life and to leave us without goodbyes or even the knowledge that we contributed some small thing to his comfort is a bit surreal.  I suppose the expectation is to leave him to die and then come and show up at the funeral – which to me is so totally pointless.  And I don’t think I’m motivated sufficiently to actually do it.  My poor husband would bear most of the burden of the work of managing my mobility.  I’m still thinking about it.  I’ll have to think fast because last report was that no one thought he would last the weekend. He’ll not see his 65th birthday next month.  Funny, the disease that started all this 25 years ago promised to take his life in 10 years. I guess getting 15 bonus years is nothing to complain about.

I only hope that he passes through this stage and beyond quickly.  I do not know what happens after death.  I will only acknowledge that it makes no sense for us to have these complicated, amazing, emotion filled existences for no reason.  I am inclined to believe that there is some continuity beyond death, though what form that takes is beyond my understanding.  Not understanding it, however, doesn’t make it untrue.

So this fall starts in a fog of loss and a limbo of uncertainty about how fast  I will recover.