I am so sorry this happened to us.
I am so grateful for everything you do for me.
This was my responsibility.
I was so careless.
I speak to my foot as I gingerly pull back the gauze pad and clean away the detritus that formed since yesterday. Every day I cleanse my stitches and change the dressing, making sure the pin sticking out of my toe doesn’t get infected. The swelling has reduced a lot since yesterday, I can begin to massage the sole gently.
I promise to care for you and not put you in danger like this again.
I promise to remember you.
Singing is the best part. I tone whatever feels right, let words come if they will. My foot responds – flooding with warmth, but not blood. Rushing blood hurts as the heat and pressure push at the damaged flesh. This feels like a warm blanket, or being held after being alone for too long.
You mean the world to me.
I will never take you for granted again.
You are precious.
The wound itself looks something like a snake or a river. The surgeon had to extend it at both ends to allow for finding and re-attaching of the tendon. When it was cut it pulled back up into the leg.
You carry me through the world.
You root me to the earth.
You bring me to life.
I sing river songs to my foot. I ask for forgiveness. I ask for healing. Tomorrow I will do the same.
Image: Snake Pit by the_tahoe_guy from Flickr, used under
a Creative Commons license