Updated: Jan 28
Nov 2nd 2019 - Post Halloween imprints its beautiful bloody smile on my foot. For those who missed that episode, a piece of broken mug landed on my foot. The 20 stitches scar on the arch of my foot looked like Mr. Jack’s smile or quite frankly, any Halloween pumpkin’s smile. A scar can be fun in itself, a scar is a memory, a scar is a story you can tell later, and laugh at... but the pain.... Aghr the pain... it’s another story... with several layers:
The Physical Pain: I was unable to walk for almost three months (which was much longer than it should have been - but I’m that lucky person with the unexpected complications - that even doctors couldn’t have predicted.) After about 3 months and change, then I was sort of walking with a cane, then limping without the cane but very awkwardly... wondering if one day I would ever be able to run again - not that I like to run... I’ve always hated to run... Aghr... humans... we take everything for granted until they take it away from us. All along that slow progression, one thing kept me company : that pain pounding on the sole of my foot, along my leg, sometimes the other leg (due to overcompensation and avoiding walking on my injured foot...) which caused a lot of that other kind of pain:
The Mental Pain. Agh... that one can make you lose it. From doubts to fear, to despair... and yes let’s face it that other d-word.... I don’t even want to pronounce it... was I ever gonna be back to my full abilities? I am an actor. What if I have a scene where I have to run somewhere? What about my action reel, I’m not a stunt actor but I love doing my own stunts. I love badass roles, I’m a supervillain... was... will be again? Well, I put an end to that cycle of thoughts pretty quickly thanks to that b*#% of covid-19 - that put the whole industry on hold, even Wonder Woman took a pause, so I took that as a gift to take the time to recover and stop thinking stupid painful thoughts...
But... All I can say is that PAIN loves me. It comes back in any form. It loves messing with my head and my body. And even though it’s an unrequited love, pain adores me. (Well - I do love pain - but the french one, the word that’s spelled exactly the same way but means bread - that’s the only “pain” I love.) Forget the American meaning of pain - no thank you. Stay away!
So obviously, pain has no ego because even though I don’t love it back, I scream at it, I shed tears at it, I slap it! I even kick it (with the other foot)! I beg it to leave me alone. I sneak a couple Advil to kill it but it only puts it to sleep temporarily..., somehow, it always finds it’s way back to me!
It visits me regularly, better than a best friend... always there with me!
But you know what... I don’t give a damn. I am grateful because I can walk. I can jump. And now... I can ride my bike which I hadn’t done since before the injury last November. Almost a year. Last time I was on my bike, the thought that it would take almost a year to get back at it, never crossed my mind. It tells you how much we take anything for granted.
Yup I did it! Rode my bike with my two feet. So, my dear friend the Pain... I win!
Yes, I felt scared like when you fall from a horse and are scared to go back on it. My bike was rusty so of course the thought crossed my mind of the brakes not working and hurting again my still-healing-leg! The tires were flat. So I went to the gas station at the corner. They inflated them with the air needed... Super cool dudes. And I started to pedal. Tears on my Cheeks. Not because it was cold. Or maybe a little. Not because I was grateful for those two guys who inflated my tires. Or maybe a little. But mostly because I could use my legs as if nothing had ever happened. I could feel my feet and it seemed that my friend, the Pain, took a nap at home - probably too cold to come out! I was scared it would show up, uninvited as usual. But I was too far already! Almost 6 miles! 6 miles of freedom. 6 miles pain-free. 6 miles like Eliot on his bike... ready to fly to the moon with E.T. 6 miles of gratitude and happiness. 6 miles, 11 months later... the scar is a story...
The body is a mysterious miraculous machine that I am beyond grateful to have functioning the best it can. Take the time to cherish and thank that body of yours. It’s a precious gift.