The Doctor Is In

Since when is everyone in my neighborhood a doctor?

It takes me longer than usual to get anywhere, not just because I limp, but because every nine feet someone stops me to ask about the cast. (It's happening enough that I no longer bother putting in my headphones to listen to music.)

Often the person has at some point had to wear one, and stops to (a) learn what my injury is (you can always tell what theirs was because that's the question they ask you), (b) comment on how fancy my cast is (it's got a built-in inflatable cushion!), (c) commiserate about how tough and frustrating it is, and/or (d) offer "advice."

I'm fine with the first three, but it is the last one that is really starting to annoy me. Whenever I comment that I am only allowed seated arms and abs, the person inevitably says: "Oh, but swimming is good and low impact."

"Yes, but I specifically asked about that and he specifically said no," I say.

This is when they tell me that doctors "say" all kinds of things, doctors are too strict and I'll be fine swimming, that _they_ were allowed to swim...

When I tell them I am keen to heal as quickly as possible so for once in my life I am doing exactly as I've been told (or as close to I've been told as possible), they inevitably frown.

"But swimming is no impact," they say, looking at me like I am just being the fat girl who is looking for any excuse not to participate in gym class.

"I think he was concerned I could bend my foot at a bad angle," I say.

More frowning. "But.."

"Thanks," I say firmly. "Part of the reason I have this problem now is because I tried to fix another problem myself. So I'm going to listen to instructions."

"But I swam and I was fine," the person will say.

"I specifically asked and he specifically said no," I say, smiling brightly. "And I would rather do nothing for two weeks and heal faster than kick along at half-mast for several months because I was so determined to cheat."

Person shrugs. Walks off, leaving me wonder if I am crazy for, uh, actually following the advice I am paying for. At the tail end of that is fear that my very limited mobility will go on for weeks -- and that my level of fitness will be so far shot that I will hardly be able to do anything. And that I will give it all up, and go back to 240 pounds.

My mind never stops sprinting and leaping even when I can't.

Day 33.