Crutch and let them eat cake!

Farewell long weekend... 

I took a break from writing this blog daily and instead worked on being present in the moments of 3 days off with Peanut. It was a great long weekend! We spent time with some of her friends at their cottage home, laying on a floating dock. We paddled the dock away from shore and laid under a big beautiful blue sky with rolling clouds. The next day was spent in a backyard pool basking in the sunlight. My skin turning into a nice brown shade. You would think that I had my fill of vitamin D, the happy vitamin. Yet I woke up this morning feeling in need of a large dose of "happy"... bad dreams had me contemplating my need for direction.
 Repeat:
I am happy today...I am so so happy today! I am filled with happy dappy thoughts today! hmmm

Over the weekend we also went to an art show, my art show, well along with 199 other artist.  I was honored to be supported by such good friends and such beautiful creative minds. 

The premiss of the show was that every piece be exactly 1 square foot. They place around 600 paintings on a grid and priced each one the same. We walked around and viewed the walls several times. They were completely covered  with art, each time something new would stand out among the colors and patterns.

It was inspiring to see how different everyone's visions filled the space. So breathtaking having them all side by side like a feast for the eyes.

My painting, done in encaustic on wood, is in the middle. It is the picture with the window/wheel and the green shades.

 

Picnic in the  park

We continued our Paris summer with long walks on the beach, viewing the Picasso exhibit and a picnic lunch drinking wine openly in a West end park.  A police car stopped near us, there was a moment were a small fear of getting a ticket washed over me. However, we decided if they approached us we would just explain our a drinking as Paris life rubbing off on us. Much like the Parisian we encountered, the officer,  would then stroll along happy with life and our explanation.  

We picked up some goodies from a French bakery. The macaroons we tried in our own city, Toronto, were surprisingly better then the ones we bought in Paris. Some bread, cheese, meat and red red wine. It was a delicious way to spend an afternoon.



I am still healing my foot...  Although my toes are starting to wiggle again as individual digits. This is progress!

I now have 4 pair of shoes I can squeeze my foot in to without pain. However, not yet my favorite summer heels.

While in Paris a few weeks back I made a "graceful" exit from a train to station platform in Versaille. I missed a step off the train, that was very high from the edge of the platform I might add. I landed my left leg in between the train and the platform scratching a large gash into my shin. My right foot, the hero, caught itself on my toes that bent forward into the cement. Down I went like a chunk of ice falling off a rooftop. Although it hurt like hell, it was slightly comically. Tourist rushed past me, almost over me to leave the train station and reach the palace to be one person ahead in a 2 hour line up.

 I thought for sure I had broken my foot as I tried to stand. I  found a bench and sat in the station for about 30 long minutes. I held a bottle of cold coke over my swelling foot. I did not want to go to the hospital. We had 4 days left in Paris and had saved all our site seeing for the end of our vacation and falling from a train was not an option. I was having a conversation in my head the entire time, begging my foot, and telling it,"your just fine your not broken", in my most convincing voice. The one you use with a young children who had fallen off the play structure, and you see that their injuries are bad but act as if they are just fine. You use that soothing voice to avoid absolute panic.

Peanut helped me hobble down the street to the nearest pharmacy. I knew that green cross well, I had been to the pharmacy a few times in Paris... lucky me! I bought a tension bandage, a bottle of Advil and made my way through the Palace of Versailles. I hobbled down the same hallways that Marie-Antionette had ran down as fast as she could in her attempt to escape her fate.

Hall of Mirrors- Palace of Versailles

I ended up waking the next day, looking at my foot feeling even more concerned. It had swelled to an enormous size. The only shoes I could manage over my "pig foot" were the ones I wore when I fell. The fall had cracked the entire base of the shoe from the angle that my foot bent forward. So when I hobbled it made a loud sound only bringing more attention to my state.

 The Paris streets and subways are not so kind to the injured. With its uneven bricked roads, chipped sidewalks and stairs everywhere.

I went to the hospital in Paris. It was clean, quiet pleasant and such quick service, being a Canadian, I was not accustomed to. Within an hours time I was seen by the doctor twice, given x-rays, the x- rays results and send on my merry way.

I was so happy to hear it was not broken. My little conversation with my foot had worked. (must try this again... "you can drink another glass of wine, there are no calories in it at all") They gave me a prescription for some pain killers and crutches... pretty silver and white ones.

I had an interesting experience on crutches, watching people part like the red sea to let me pass. People passed me on my sticks and gave me sympathetic smiles everywhere I went.The people in the shops started addressing only my partner and not acknowledging me. I had no visual signs that it was just a sore foot, no marks, no bandages... just my sticks. So no one knew what to say to me. 

The ironic thing was, that I had made a comment earlier that day to Peanut, that Paris was not built for elderly or a person with any disability.

I ventured out with the crutches hitting pavement, museums, wine tours, boat rides and the Eiffel tour. I became quite efficient doing stairs and subways platforms with my sticks. Oddly they were a blessing at many tourist attractions, as we got to wave the lines up!

I gave them up after 5 days. They actually hurt my hands. Some times the pains in my fingers and palms felt worse then the pain throbbing from my sprained foot.

I am off the sticks but feeling like I have a different kind of crutch. The what do I do with my life crutch? What is next in my career life crutch... the needing to learn to walk again crutch.

A summer off is a blessing and sometimes a curse... I already starting having nightmares about returning to work. Can I find joy in my job? Can I return next month with a brand new outlook on career and creating some great gains in my path.

What this needs is a stroll and a very powerful juicer. Off to take a long walk, one to clear space in my head and get those creative problem solving juices flowing.
















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