At three months

There is nothing so profoundly disturbing as an atrophied calf. Especially when it is your body. I look down at my legs and I want to cry because the difference I see between the two legs is arresting. I have this huge knobby knee and a foot that looks like it is three times too big for the leg. I see a grown women with one healthy, over worked leg and one leg that looks like an adolescent stick.

The most impressive ability of the human body is that it has muscle memory. With the right foods and with the right amount of time, I can develop my calf to be just as good as it was prior to this experience. Thankfully, the muscles should remember running.

The infection is completely gone from my body but I do not know the damage it has caused. I will not know the extent of damage and how much of that vile strep A bacteria chewed away at my muscle and inner flesh, I wont know until later. So I keep the faith and hope for the best.

It is a struggle on a daily basis to not turn toward negative thinking. Again the supposing fears rush into my mind ferociously and I push them out with every ounce of determination I own. Some days I feel ambushed with those thoughts.   Every night I massage my leg with coconut lotion and I think positive. I envision my self running and I see myself walking normal and wearing heals again. I imagine what it will feel like to once again get the runners high. Time is all I am waiting on now. I have come far in the last three months. I am not worried about scars. I worry more about the muscle staying put and holding my ankle together. My chagrin lives in the slight possibility of never running again. My focus is on running again with ease and with out pain.

Scar at three months

This scar is not as much a vexation as my fears. The scar serves as a reminder of the human spirit. Of my spirit. Life is short and I have lived it, but I am not finished living it yet. This scar reminds me of what could have been taken away from me permanently and for good. Who would I be if I did not tag myself as a “runner”? It is a part of who I am. I am told I should not think like that, that I am a “lucky girl” who has a leg. I will think of myself as a “lucky gir’l the minute I cross another finish line.

What is living if not running?  I have grown weary of things being taken away from me. Running will not be taken away from me on a permanent basis. This scar reminds me to forge forward without surrender. They could have cut my leg off and I would still have that same attitude. My fears creep in and still try to haunt me. I wont yield in my certitude to beat this, to run again.

Don’t get me wrong, this surgery gone bad is not defining who I am. I write this blog to get through this experience, to remind myself that I will rise above and triumph! This is just a short term impediment in my daily life.


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