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Monday, July 14, 2014

Almost two years ago

I was hit by a car and two metatarsals in my right foot and my medial malleolus (the inner top part of my right ankle) were fractured.  For the ankle,  they did a surgery called an open reduction and internal fixation (ORIF), where two screws were put in to stabilise the fracture so it could heal. This left a fairly large scar, but since it is on the inside of my ankle and frankly,  I am grateful to be walking,  I don't think much about it.

One thing that brought the difference  home,  though,  was when I was shoe shopping the other day.  The nice lady must see a lot of feet and ankles,  but when she saw my scar,  she literally gasped and then very quickly asked about my being hurt in a very sympathetic way. I guess it does look a bit scary.  The last time I saw my surgeon he apologised for the little dimples to the side.  They now have a new suture where those little puckers don't show.  But I am fine with my scar.  After all, it means I survived trauma and recovered.  It is sort of a badge of experience,  like grey hair. So I found myself reassuring the nice lady a little that I was fine. And I am,  thankfully.

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