Cripes. It’s nearly the end of November. Already. And it’s neary 2025. What the heck happened to 1978? Okay, I’ll give you the ’90s. Isn’t it still the ‘90s??? Time is a weird thing, isn’t it?

And extra weird is how it can seem to go quickly at the same time it feels like it’s going slowly.

I’d have sworn it was just last July I was packing up and leaving England and moving to Ontario to help my dear friend who was terminally ill. And at the same time, those horrific weeks with him seem decades ago. Time was not our friend there either. We thought he had at least a year, but we had one lovely evening together before he had a major crisis and ended up in hospital. Fed up with years of illness and limitations, he quit and came home to die. His beautiful, dynamic spirit fought it every step of the way through those dreadful days when his body wanted to give up.

How can that be just over 2 years ago? It feels like many years, a faded, traumatic memory down a suffocating tunnel, almost like it never happened but my soul knows absolutely that it did.

After a mad scramble to find somewhere to live, I ended up back in Calgary where I’d spent most of my life before moving to England 20-odd years ago. And had only just barely got here when I had that nasty fall on the ice that tore the quadriceps right off the bone and broke my kneecap into pieces.

I’ve had to learn how to walk again without support. It was a year before I ditched the walker and crutches and was able to hobble with my cane. It took nearly another year to be rid of the cane after that awful day, lying on the sidewalk screaming for help while people drove by, and two others stood a few houses away and ignored me.

Yes. They ignored me.

In those moments, I could never have imagined that one could twist one’s leg with such force as to do the kind of damage I’d done to mine during that fall. Yay, ice. A slip and a twist and just over 2 years later, I still don’t have full use of this leg (yet!). And this injury also caused a nasty, rare condition, one that can be permanent (I refuse to accept that this will happen to me).

Nor could I have imagined that more than 2 years later, I’d still have trouble with stairs, that my knee would be a swollen, discoloured mess that clicks and pops with every bend. 🤢 It turns my stomach every time I hear it and I think, “I’ll never get used to that!” And then I think, “Well, then, you’re going to be miserable. How about accepting it and remembering to be grateful for your progress??!”

Yep.

Funny, too, that it’s like my brain is on auto-pilot with that. Those thoughts happen in a nanosecond from “Yuck!” to appreciating my good fortune.

I ended up in the exceptionally capable hands of a highly skilled orthopedic trauma surgeon who was also a “lower limb and foot reconstruction specialist.” Who knew that was even A Thing? I’m sure glad it is.

The following months were nothing short of a nightmare for a few reasons. Time never dragged as horribly slowly as it did during that dreadful period.

To be honest, I have a hard time looking back there; it’s still too fresh. It serves no useful purpose, so I shift my attention back to the present Time.

And I do the thing that got me through those horrible months. I focus on the blessings. Even in those darkest of days, I thought about the many ways in which I had something for which to be grateful.

The kind man several houses away who, after I was lying there about 10-15 minutes, came out to shovel his snow and heard me shouting for help. The incredible care I received at the hospital.

The fact that my body is a magnificent healing machine, and although it was in pretty rough shape, it was beautifully working its magic — and it still is. Who am I to gripe about how long it’s taking for full recovery? I am so, so incredibly grateful for my healing.

And at those times when I wonder if this is as much recovery as I’ll ever get, I remember how much worse it could have been. I think about people who are in accidents and become paraplegic or quadriplegic, forever confined to wheelchairs, or in other ways, have their lives permanently altered in a massive way. Comparatively, my injury has been a minor inconvenience and it was one I knew would improve enough that I’d at least get back most of my mobility.

And I can’t help but think about my dear friend’s brother. Within days of my injury, he slipped on the ice, too. He hit his head on the curb and was in a coma for 2 weeks. During that time, he had two brain surgeries.

And then he died.

As it turns out, according to the CDC there are about one million injuries every year from falling on ice and snow, and a whopping 17,000 deaths. These are US statistics so I don’t know about here in Canada or other countries but this still gives a sense of how dangerous it is.

I had no idea that it caused that many fatalities! 😳

So … even more reason for me to feel deep gratitude and appreciation for my good fortune. I am so blessed that this injury wasn’t worse.

I’ve always been one to feel gratitude and be appreciative for the good things that happen, even when — and especially when — life is challenging. And some of my favourite blessings during this healing process have been the gifts of deepening my practice of patience, acceptance, and gratitude.

The healing process has been so ridiculously slow, a few months pass before I notice the tiniest improvements. The interesting thing about this is that it makes me even more grateful for them. Just when I’ve come to accept that it’s as good as it’s gonna get — which is truly okay with me — I am gifted with being able to do something a little better, a little more, or a little easier.

It was 6 months before I could get into a bath (sponge bathing sucks!). It was 14 months before I was steady enough on my feet to have a shower. And I can just about stand on my healing leg for about 5 seconds!! 🎉🎁🎈Woohoo! Yay, me!

I’ve been practicing for months. I still have to think about it, using concentrated effort while holding onto something. I have to gear up for it, slowly lifting the left foot (uninjured side), my left toes poking at the floor several times to steady and stabilise me as I prepare to make that transition. It always reminds me of a chicken pecking at the ground 🐓😁. It makes me smile as gradually, I shift my balance to the right foot and … eventually let go of the wall or whatever I’m using for support.

In recent weeks, that whole steadying, concentrating, chicken-pecking toe business has taken a little less time than usual! I’m beginning to feel more strength in my leg than I have in 2 years! And although my balance is still not brilliant, those 5 seconds might as well have been an hour. For me, they were a miracle. Another sign of the incredible gift of healing. Another opportunity for gratitude.

Another opportunity to trust in my body’s wisdom, and its magnificent ability to heal itself. I have no right to be impatient about how long it’s taking. One look at how swollen my knee was shortly after falling and it’s clear to see how much damage I’d done. 🫣

And let’s be honest … although I feel decades younger than my driving license thinks I should be, I’m not exactly 20 anymore. Happily, my daily life moves at a slow and leisurely pace. Apparently, my body has followed suit. 🙄

So it’s no wonder it’s taking a long time to heal. And it’s okay with me. It’s already healed a lot and although I’d love to go for a brisk walk or go dancing, or even just be able to walk outside without a cane, at least I can get around on my own steam. At least I don’t need a walker or crutches anymore. At least I’m well past the screaming, gnawing pain that kept me up and in tears night after night for months.

Your perspective on Time can give you more opportunities for gratitude. When it races past so fast it causes a draft, you’re given the option of slowing down and appreciating each and every second even more because once they’re gone, they’re gone forever. You have fewer of them left all the time, so each remaining one becomes that much more valuable.

And when Time is dragging because you’re impatient about something that isn’t happening fast enough, or because you’re in pain or in a difficult situation or feeling stuck in your struggles, you’re given the chance to practice patience, to practice acceptance, and to focus on the blessings. They’re always there; I can promise you that.

You find them in thinking of how far you’ve come, or how much you’ve already survived or endured. You find them in the people who support and encourage you. You can even find them in the people who don’t treat you well, because they reinforce what you want in your life — and what you don’t want — and they give you the chance to decide to distance yourself from them and seek out healthier friendships.

You can find blessings in remembering that you always have a powerful tool at your disposal — the power of choice. You get to decide where you put your attention. You get to decide what steps you’ll take for better self-care, to get to a better place, a better frame of mind, a better job, relationship, environment, state of health, or anything else.

It feels like this injury happened years ago. So much has happened in some ways, yet so little in others. I find it hard to believe it was only 2 years ago. And at the same time, those 2 years feel like an eternity, especially when I look at my still-swollen, Rice Krispies snap-crackle-and-pop knee and think, crikey, I’ve still got a long way to go.

The beauty in that “long way to go” is that I have hope I’ll continue to heal. Given more Time, all things are possible, right?

At the same Time, if this is as good as it gets, I’m so grateful. I’m thankful to get around on my own steam (with a little help from my cane) and to be able to maintain my independence. I’m thankful to be past those first several months and the worst pain I’d ever experienced.

And I’m ever so grateful — and lucky — that I didn’t end up like my friend’s brother after he slipped on the ice. In that split second, his conscious world stopped.

That could have been me. There would have been no more conversations with my beautiful daughter, Willow, or with my dear friends. There would have been no more laughter, no more hope, no more creative pursuits and writing and playing with my cartoon, “Witchy,” and helping her share her own special healing magic.

How can I not be grateful for the suffering and challenges that have come after that moment in Time, that nanosecond that altered the course of my life? Because it meant I still had one. I was given more Time.

And I’m more grateful for that than I could ever possibly express.

“I awoke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends, the old and the new.”

— Ralph Waldo Emerson