Tales from the Crip -- Tiny Tim's got Nothing on Me

Note from your Fabulous Blog Owner:
I have a friend who is laid up, literally, and she asked to do a guest blog.
Each week she is going to post her newest Tales from the Crip blog about the life of a crippled writer in need of some creative healing. So here we go!

__________________________________________________________

Apparently no two surgeries are alike. No one told me this but for weeks to psyche myself up for my ankle surgery part deux I assumed this surgery would be like the first one. I said to people "I'll just look at the first one as practice."
Well practice shamctice. This surgery is nothing like the first one. So as I prepare to keep myself sane during this time of resting and healing I have decided to blog. The gracious host of this blog has allowed me to post on her site.
And what can I say about Mrs. Morton whom I've know since I was 14? I guess before I start extolling her virtues (right now Karyn is saying why is she buttering me up) I should probably provide a very brief introduction of myself.
On the 16th day of July in 1976 at precisely 3:30 pm the most beautifullest thing in the world...ok I'll stop...My name is LaToya Aisha Henry. I am a multi-talented, multi-faceted woman from Detroit. My day job involves communications and keeping young people engaged in civil rights. My night job is pretty much the same. So I hope you will enjoy my guests blogs and they will add to the style and substance already here!!!
As I stated earlier I am healing from ankle surgery. In March of this year I slipped on ice in my driveway and had as my first surgeon put it "complete destruction of my ankle." I somehow managed to completely shatter my ankle and break the fibula bone in my left leg. I had never broken anything in my life besides a nail. Needless to say I had surgery with a plate and 2 screws inserted into my ankle. Not to mention 6 weeks in a hard cast and 5 weeks in a walking boot plus about 2 and a half months of physical therapy. So I was excited in June when my surgeon said my xrays looked good he would let me have my summer and in October we would remove the screws.
Summer is great. I go for my follow up appointment and then the curve ball is thrown. Here I am thinking we are going to discuss removing the screw and me being back to work right before election day and my surgeon walks in with a look on his face that doesn't look good. And he opens his mouth and says we need to redo your surgery. And instantly my mind flashes back to me in the hard cast, getting around the house with a walker and trying to prevent myself from going stir crazy. Panic, fear, dread are the first emotions.
But this passes quickly. I regroup and just allow myself a moment before I start to analyze and over analyze and figure out what God is trying to tell me now. What didn't I get the first time that He had to sit me down again. I don't believe there are any accidents everything happens for a reason.