Severed EHL Tendon: 6 Week Post-Op



6 weeks have gone by. I’m on my third cast. 3 casts thus far have assisted in inching my way to recovery, with a few small casualties along the way. I will begin my physiotherapy/rehabilitation next week. An aggressive schedule of 3-4 times a week for a full month and then tapering off to once or twice a week for the months that follow. My foot has zero functionality, just painful dead weight. My calf muscle is shrunken and grotesque. My right leg is half the size of my left leg. A visual that my family refuses to register.

My baby toe on my right foot (although fully functional prior) was squished rather forcefully in an awkward position for the 6 weeks that my was foot casted. In most of the photos it may be glimpsed as piggybacked with toe number 4. It will join in the rehabilitation process.

The skin on my foot and surrounding area is so sensitive and delicate. I have some numbness at the top of my foot. My ankle does not rotate yet, (this will come with therapy). The tendon is very taught and now, more than ever I must be vigilant not to exert or damage it.  I feel squeamish every time I look at it.

I’ve put together a 6 week collage of Zipperfoot thus far.

Some may be graphic.

Droopy Toe: Pre Surgery

 

Post Surgery Cast: 2 weeks





  

Dressed for the occasion



 

Quick breather before 2nd cast is put on.



Week 4 (Swollen and squishy toes)



  





Week 5 (swollen toes)



2nd Cast Removal (Week 6)





Zipperfoot




Muscle Density Loss on Right Leg.



Zipperfoot's New Home

Good Intentions

What I have recently discovered during my very short excursions outside my house is that there are people who are always willing to help out in any way they can.

 Earlier this week as I made my way to the main lobby of our condo, I was confronted with a situation; the double door exit.  I have to push open one heavy glass door, which brings me to a small vestibule, only to have to repeat the process with another glass door to actually exit the foyer. I struggled and giggled and sweat my way through the first door, dropping a crutch, then recovering from a cartoonish arm waving loss of balance. I approach the second door and notice someone is approaching from the other side; I was already in the midst of attempting to open the second door. A young lady took it upon herself to offer me assistance by opening the door herself, however she really didn’t think it through. (I already had my hand strategically wrapped on the door handle while delicately balancing crutches and Zipperfoot to avoid mishap.) She quickly pulled open the door from her end, causing me to lose balance and careen into her; generously infringing on the personal space of a perfect stranger. My first reaction was to give her a piece of my mind at her obvious lack of foresight. However I refrained, how was she to know what the outcome would be?  She had good intentions.

On one of my Las Vegas trips a few years back I was caught in a similar situation. I was floating upwards on a mammoth 2 story escalator at one of the hotels on the Strip. Behind me was a cute elderly couple pleasantly chatting. We were literally steps from the top, when the gentleman lost his balance and began to tumble down the escalator. I quickly (taking the remaining steps 2 at a time) jetted to the top and slammed on the emergency stop.  I hurried down; by this point he had tumbled excruciatingly half way down the escalator. It was awful. His arms were skinned and he was moaning with pain. As I proceeded to assist him (with the aid of his wife), he became irate with me. He was verbally attacking me because he was halfway down a stopped escalator with no way to walk up. I was dumbfounded; I thought I was helping him by stopping the escalator; potentially saving him from a more severe injury. He viewed it as a terrible journey he was going to have to make up hill on his own without the mechanical aid of the escalator.  I actually sheepishly climbed the remainder of the escalator upwards away from him and his irate state, and did what I could only do at this point- call security. 

Any lesson I’ve learned from being on both sides of the equation; ask before you offer assistance.  If the person refuses- walk away and don’t feel any type of penitence. Sometimes pride and conscience from either side can get in the way of better judgement.

 Accepting or giving assistance graciously can sometimes be harder than anyone would like to admit.

Hanging Out

I have mentioned before what a wonderful circle of friends I have; and I’ll say it again. I have a wonderful circle of friends.

Last night I was privy to being shuttled to a dear friend’s house for a convergence of the neighbourhood mama’s.  The five of us were comforted by our gracious hostess with wine and a small banquet of delicacies.  Of course I was nervous at being seen so broken and weak, but that quickly wore off as soon as we settled. It was a “put your big girl panties on, and get over it” ambience. I loved it. What’s done is done, learn and move forward.

We conversed and light heartily debated about Vespas, the coastline of France, our responsibility as parents to our children, Ducati motorcycles, the Montessori education system and on and on..

There is nothing more beguiling than taking a page out of real life and dissecting it amongst five vast and educated opinions, throw in some shit talk and it was perfection! As I looked around the room I saw such an array of diversity and accomplishment. Each of these women is confidently grounded and intimately powerful in her own way. A no nonsense crew who is willing to step up to the plate and grasp the task at hand.

Any one of the women can command a battalion at a moment’s notice with hair and wardrobe intact.

Un toast de célébration aux femmes qui peuvent faire une différence.

Bons Amis, bonne vie!

Severed EHL Tendon- 5 Week Post-Op

I have an appointment with my Orthopaedic Specialist next week. I have placed a couple of inquiring calls over the last few days, desperate for information on what is coming up in the next few weeks.

 I am going to transition to another type of cast in the next week or so.  I’m hoping that the Aircast is the next step for Zipperfoot. The last week has been a mixture of small victories and setbacks once again. As part of the process I was attempting small steps with full pressure on my right (casted) foot.  I realize at this time that the setting of the cast may be slightly off by a few degrees; as suspected by the Orthopaedic Technician weeks ago, thus causing the weird clicking and pain in my ankle. Needless to say my foot continuously swells at any and all attempts of downward pressure.

I notice that my big toe has dropped slightly from its original upward dorsiflexed position, which is excellent progress. It means that the EHL Tendon is gently and naturally stretching out as it should. I have to be ever so cautious not to knick it and continue to keep it protected as much as possible.

Now I have an acute understanding why the original recuperation prognosis was to be immobile for 6-8 weeks. The inability for it to heal properly is much greater as pressure on the foot is applied. A good amount of healing time is required post surgery in the surrounding area of the damaged tissue and tendon.  The probability of re-injury would substantially increase with any type of walking motion, since the toes are primarily used to push off when taking a step.

My original sutures are still in and they should have fully dissolved at this point, with possibly just the ends being plucked out upon the removal of the cast. I can feel them tingling once in a while like there are pins and needles in the cast.

Catching Up Rant

I guess this will be one of the blogs in which I rant. No particular subject and no offense. Here it goes…

LFL: So here we are, Toronto with its own team in the LFL. At first I was taken aback (being somewhat a feminist and believe in empowering females), but then it all made sense. It’s all part of the de-masculinization of man. We won’t require Feminism as a club or a group. The guys have handed us empowerment on a silver platter. Oh sure we have to strut around in our skivvies and do a bit of hair whipping, but the circle is almost complete. The faces in the crowd at these events say it all. Jaw dropping wonderlust. Salivating crowds of men gathered to catch a glimpse and maybe touch their heroine athlete...The male bollocks are in the jar on the shelf, now go get me a beer and lets watch Chocolat… Touchdown!!!

Facebook: Love it, Hate it. Please; why do people Facebook other people they don’t even know just for the sake of increasing their friend numbers?? Seriously? Does loneliness have something to do with it? They can’t really be friends with all those people… makes one heck of a Christmas card list.

Zipperfoot: My toes look waxy and my foot is swollen and sore. My ankle is clicking inside my cast. I need to order my Air Cast soon.  I want to paint my toe nails. I’ve got cabin fever.

Maid Service:  I had hired a cleaning lady to help around the house; a one-time clean type of deal. Site says; professional and thorough services. I got (what looked like) an ex meth addict who spent some time talking to me about her hamster. Cleaned my whole condo with a container of Lysol disinfecting wipes. There are streaks everywhere. Birds got to fly, fish got to swim and woman’s got to eat; I guess.

Why I keep moving forward: My son came up to me, kissed me and said that I was beautiful.

WTFC

Today my fall soccer season resumes at Lamport Stadium. I (obviously) will not be playing. My cleats and uniform cleaned and neatly put away until…maybe next year? My team had inquired if I was able to sit and cheer from the sidelines on their first game. Maybe do some sideline coaching as opposed to me screaming orders from the field as they’re accustomed to. Our team is co-ed and on the field as far as we’re concerned, gender plays no part. (Remember I had my jaw dislocated early this summer by an opponent; let’s call him Rooney!) 

 Amongst our team there’s a bit of screaming and flippant attitude, however our differences would always be settled with a pint (or two) after the game!!  We’re a mixture of ex-soccer players, potpourri jocks and newbies.

 I was totally excited at the prospect of attending the game until I realized that the theatrics of getting on to the field would most likely take away from the joy of actually being there.(Also I’m a bit shy in regards to my condition; they’re used to seeing a serious soccer chick, not a mousy and whiny woman).  I respect their joy; I don’t want them to feel bad for me.

I’ll wait a couple of more weeks and then do my cheering and hollering on the sidelines appropriately, by standing on my two feet!

Fingers Crossed.

Girl Power

It was girls night IN last night! A gaggle of my true blue gals came by with Ale and Spirits. BFF’s after my own heart!  I’ve been alcohol free for weeks and weeks now; quite the detoxification for me. I’ve definitely downgraded to lightweight, which is ok for now, just keep the Gewurztraminer flowing, I’ll catch up..

So good when it hits the lips….              

Today, my other true blue Gal came by with Java, Sweets and a swag bag from TIFF. Spoiled!

Total Respect….

Problem Solved: Severed EHL Tendon- 4 Weeks Post-Op

I haven’t been in the greatest of moods lately-involuntarily of course!  No matter how much I attempt at willfully being positive and upbeat, I feel down in the dumps. I’m tired of being holed up inside. I’ve made small attempts at viewing the world from the other side of my front door; they have been frugal at best. My posting should be called “Confessions of a Venting Weakling”. It takes quite a bit of upper body strength to hobble around with the crutches and I complain constantly. So as I venture into slightly longer distances, the pain in my upper and lower back increases. I noticed a weird muscle pull in my left shoulder today. I’m not out to really perfect the art of walking with crutches anyway, so I will ignore.

The Zipperfoot sits propped up patiently as usual. The pain is tolerable, and seems to just escalate slightly in the evening. I've been doing a few small daily/weekly routines to keep the blood pumping.

1.       Toe Flexes: Little sprigs of movement downward.

2.       Excursion: I walk to my mailbox and back- twice in the last week so far. Leg up, very slight pressure on my foot. (with crutches of course!)

3.        Leg lifts: This helps with the movement of my hip flexors, which are desperately screaming for some relief.

4.       Walkabout with Crutches: (not to be confused with Excursion), walking with slight pressure on the casted foot for short distances; say 4-5 meters and back. Olympic style endurance required. It’s an amazing workout!

5.       The nightly scratching down the side of my cast with a wooden skewer.  Heaven. My stick is taken away from me when I start having too much fun or become slightly aggressive.

The small battles I’m still dealing with on a daily basis are the slowness in which I complete my tasks. The simple actions of bathing and breakfast should take no longer than 30 minutes tops. I’m booking it at 90 minutes. So really by the time I’ve finished bathing, dressing and having breakfast, it’s time for elevenses.

 I still have to 2 crutch it everywhere, so I have a small saddle bag which I use to transport a book, my glasses and my cell phone which are with me constantly. Anything heavier than that and I teeter favourably to the wrong side, whichever side that may be.  I’ve instructed my family to disregard the flailing being they may be noticing in the corner of their eye. Call 911 if unconscious.

It’s sort of funny/insane; however I’ve had to reschedule friends’ visits because I’ve said I don’t have time.  I guess the truth is I have a routine, as bizarre as it seems. There is some weird structure that I’ve adapted to, not sure what it consists of but it fills my time.

 I do somewhat sense that mainstream mentality of schedules and time sharing has crept back in, anonymously without me even knowing it was there.  I thought I was supposed to be cured of this.

The Dancing Queens

I’ve already warned everyone around me, (which my girlfriends are greatly anticipating) that when this thing passes and my leg is back to its tip top form, I’m definitely going dancing. I dare anyone to tell me otherwise. I have done my fair share this year thus far and had a lot more nights out planned, prior to my accident.  So I will sit and wait patiently, silently plodding all the places I will hit once I’m back. In this family we love to dance.

Somewhere in my parents’ 70’s paraphernalia storage there is 16mm footage of me doing the robot and many other dance skits. My parents would have elaborate disco dance parties in their basement in the 70’s. (Much like everyone else?) I discovered they were weekend basement disco ravers. The adults were busting it to the Slush, the Hustle, the Robot and couples/group disco dancing; Dance Fever style. Most of us kids were (supposedly) nestled in bed with our pj’s on, listening to the music blaring from the basement. There was no way I was going to lay in bed and let them have all the fun. I would sneak down the steps, one by one until I blended into the brown panelling walls at the bottom of the stairs. I danced, slushed, and hustled with the best of them. At the tender age of 7, I was a disco dancing prodigy.

At any opportunity through my adolescence and adulthood I was dancing at clubs, sometimes 5 to 6 nights a week. On stage or off stage I would sweat it out from the moment I walked in until the music shut down.  In the 80’s it was dancing to all things Mod, from Depeche Mode to The Cult to mosh pit slam dancing. In the 90’s it was pure Grunge and the amazing House with its deep techno beats and all night raves.  With clubs like the Boom Boom Room, The Night Gallery and Catch22 I never skipped a beat.

Fast forward to the here and now, I am Phylishia Rashad to my younger sister’s Debbie Allen. Or better yet she’s Spink and I’m Forcible. My sister is a choreographer and owns her own dance school.  I’m more a pony version of Riverdance to her Fosse Fosse Fosse. She is a trained dancer, I am her trainee; constantly. We’ve spent many times hysterically laughing at the dance studio until we couldn’t laugh anymore; stitches at our sides at her attempts to choreograph a fluid number for me. We end up imitating hoochie dancers at nightclubs, falling over again with laughter.

Fondly I do remember though, years ago as I’d be getting ready for a night out; in my room with Nine Inch Nails blasting on my ‘ghetto blaster’(gay!)  and us screaming into hair brushes (our faux microphones), my sister the observer/protégé taking it all in. She would dance alongside me. We are the Dancing Queens.

So sweet sister, will you teach me how to dance again?

Severed EHL Tendon- 3 Weeks Post-Op

For the most part I’ve been off the pain killers. I’ve resorted to Tylenol Extra Strength for now. I do have a sneaking suspicion that I will be going back to the medications once my second cast is removed and the rehabilitation begins. I'm also FINALLY finished my anti-botic pills which were the size of almonds (4X a day)! If my foot didn't kill me, one of those pills surely would...

I’ve been doing small bursts of exercise on a daily basis. I’ve been gently putting my casted foot down on the floor as I take baby steps (with crutches support). I’m careful as I apply pressure on my foot in my attempt to gauge how much is acceptable, also making sure my toes do not brush against the floor.  Unfortunately an accidental loss of balance and recovery reminds me not to be so bold in my endeavours, resulting in the usual splintering pain shooting up from my big toe to just under my knee cap.

Daily I’ve tried to gently flex my big toe forward; my brain is sending the signals ever so cautiously as I wait for a response. I manage a small squeak of movement; my reward is pain. I imagine this is a good thing. There is contact.

The upside to actually getting up and moving around is; mobility. Sweet mobility. Even for a few moments.  A 5 metre walk is like a marathon, with me triumphant and sweaty at the finish line.

The downside is that this mini marathon causes swelling in my toes and pain from within the cast. For every bit of walking I do I must elevate my foot to stop the throbbing and the swelling.

My husband, being all intuitive to my every whim had booked my masseuse to do a house call for me today. It was a lovely surprise and extremely appreciated. I was nervous and apprehensive at first however within minutes Lorna was working her magic. Engaging in Spiritual conversation, massage and filling with me a feeling of serenity and acceptance. I was revived once again to the power of Yoga and the Mind and how simple breathing can assist in recovery of mind, body and spirit. I feel good and somewhat awakened on this cloudy Thursday.

Focus and Come Back.

e

e is a number!

The sunset was glorious last night, with clouds and shadows of pinks, oranges and purples. The synapses in my brain were jolted back to 1990. The beautiful sky and my brain made a connection to a beat I knew well from a long long time ago…Electronic music in its infancy.

The Orb-Little Fluffy Clouds

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FHixChYgGRI

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

September is a month of reflection and renewal. It is the month when we put our summer behind us and start looking forward to…..Cold weather, Christmas? No.  Structured and beautiful Shoes and Boots.



 I look forward to this time of the year, to show off my best assets. My shoes.  Prior to my surgery way back in August; I had neatly and diligently put away my summer shoe ensemble. (I sheepishly kept a few “lefts” for the remainder of the weeks, just in case).The sweet strappies, the perfect sandals, the pretty ballet flats, the corporate stiletto peek-a-boo (also a Fall transition), the patio espadrille wedge, I could go on. There was no point in keeping them around as I would not have the opportunity to wear them again; this year.

Alas the fall shoe assemblage is one force not to be reckoned with for a woman or your standard homo/metro-sexual. However as I view my fall and winter ensemble of shoes and boots, I’m not inspired by what is to come. I may have to repeat my summer chore and burrow my fall/winter shoe and boot collection as well. It just doesn’t seem feasible as I look at my heavily casted right foot, that my left foot will be able to function solo with a high black Jimmy Choo boot  and ultra-pointy toe, this season. There is something odd about that visual.  

 Not to mention my dozens upon dozens upon dozens (how many dozens was that again?) of lonely shoes and boots that will not have their time to shine. UGGs? Pshaw!  I realize that potentially UGGs may be the only type of footwear I will be able to display on my foot/feet.  It’s not that I don’t find them comfortable and generally stylish with let’s say… jogging pants on your way to the supermarket; any fashion combination other than that-not liken’ them so much!

 I have been haphazardly brainstorming about my potential (and yes truly exciting) return to work in the distant future. UGG’s might not cut it in the office.  Hmmm…although… my other truly unfashionable dismal prospect is the walking air cast that I will have to use to learn how to “walk” again. Totally Lovely.  It’s settled.

 Do you have one size 8 in Black?

Laborious Days

My husband thought it would be a good idea if we went up to our country home on Lake Huron for a few days, being a holiday long weekend. The idea was definitely not appealing to me; however I did not want to disappoint my family. Our house’s main floor has a spacious bedroom, full bathroom and a big family room. I would most certainly be comfortable there. It’s open, airy and breathtaking. It’s been weeks since I’ve been up to the house and I’ve missed it terribly. I travel in the car with my leg propped up as comfortable as possible. This is my second time out of my home in weeks. I’ve entered a somewhat depressive state now, which my husband thinks is cabin fever. I don’t have any energy or vigour to venture out.

 I have to admit that our house is much more welcoming than our city condo, we have no cable and no internet, which does lift my spirits-no interference from the outside world. I am surrounded by nature there, and it’s a tangible escape from the city’s cold and unfeeling reminders. Part of me wishes I can spend the rest of my recovery here by the lake. I can get more accomplished (with my mind), maybe even do a bit of therapy on my foot. I have to set a plan in action; I have to grasp my second wind, well actually my first wind. The princess routine is growing really tired and the guilt that I’m feeling from having to request the smallest things continues to be frustrating. My world is so small, my requests can sometimes seem eccentric or weird but they are the smallest things that help me cope.

I despise my crutches with all senses of the word. You would be hard pressed to hear me ever saying I despise anything.  They are not my friends; they forcibly help me on my little journeys from one spot to another. They trick me sometimes with a false sense of security; they bend and twitch almost comically causing me to sway to and fro like a tightrope walker, trying to gain stability and avoid a fall. These crutches represent much more than the package deal to the cast on my foot. They are just as bored with me as I am with them. They have stripped my independence and my own humility. We continue to be bound to each other against our will. I sound like such a drama queen. 

Outside, the crickets and the soft lapping of the waves are beautiful; I fantasize about going for a swim out onto the lake. The torrential downpour on a particular afternoon only lasted a few minutes which was so disappointing; I wanted it to storm for hours. A good cleansing from Mother Nature of which I watch from my window, my chin propped up on my sofa pillows. The rain eventually stops and a flock of Blue Jays fly by screaming their familiar caw, chasing each other, happy that they can resume their play ... I look out in to the trees and will continue to count the days…

Book and Movie Review II

I have received a lot of movie and book suggestions, and I will try and get through as many as I can on a weekly basis; provided I can sit upright and be of sound mind.. or otherwise..

Oh Yeah ,SPOILER ALERT!

Mars Needs Moms: 
The mother of a little boy named Milo is targeted by female Martians.  The Martians want to kidnap her and bring her back to the planet Mars where they will extract her “mom-ness” and use it to upload the information into the nanny-bots that raise and train all the youngling Martian girls on the planet. During a heated argument with his mother, Milo says that he hates her and wishes she was out of his life.  After being sent to bed he wakes up later that evening heartbroken, wanting to apologize and take back the terrible things he said to his mother. He investigates a bright light coming from her bedroom and witnesses her being kidnapped by the aliens. He chases the smaller ship back to the mother ship where he gets caught on the retractable landing gear. He finds himself jettisoned into space (which he thinks is super cool), but stays focused on trying to find his mother. Once they land on the planet Mars, he is taken prisoner by the Martian women and is placed in a prison cell. He manages to escape from the cell with the help of Gribble, a human secretly living within the bowels of the Martian space station. Together they devise a plan to free Milos’s mother. They meet a trusty Martian rebel accomplice named Ki. There are a lot of twists and turns but they eventually rescue his mother and return to Earth. I felt that this film was emotionally excessive for younger audiences. At one point there is a scene where Milo’s mom is unable to breathe out in the open Mars atmosphere and asphyxiates. What a terrible scene. I don’t really recommend this film, especially for children; it’s definitely does not deliver the usual Disney Magic.

I continued reading 2 more volumes from The Walking Dead Graphic Novel series.

Volume 3-Safety Behind Bars:  The survivors continue on their quest together. They find an abandoned prison, which was at one point overtaken by the Zombies. The survivors manage to segregate an area for themselves and begin to settle in. We see the pressures of the constant fight for survival begin to affect everyone. At times, while clearing areas where Zombie population resides within the prison, they lose precious loved ones during the Zombie attacks. Rick’s instincts and desire to keep the whole group alive are evident and at times; desperate. His over protection begins to resemble fanaticism and the group becomes very concerned that his judgement is askew. We as the audience understand that he wants to weed out the evil doers, those who will potentially act selfishly and bring the group in harm’s way. Relationships between some of the individuals become more strained as time goes on.

Volume 4-The Heart’s Desire: There are a few more characters that are introduced, they are survivors that make their way to the prison and seek refuge. The group is coming to the realization that there will be no rescue and that this will be the matter in which they will have to survive going forward. Some of the intimate relationships start to fizzle as the new people mingle with everyone. Jealousy and sexual deviancy begin to surface.  Rick begins to sense that everyone is starting to lose control; he begins to question his own control. He tries to establish “laws” or “rules” that everyone can abide by. The survivors begin to feel territorial and defensive. They do not want Rick as their leader any longer as they feel he is compromised with his emotions and has made some rash decisions. They form a committee with 4 leaders consisting of 4 men of which Rick is included. The women do not want to be on the committee and are content with the men representing and protecting them.

These 2 volumes confirm that in desperation people will break rules and seek out their unexplored desires regardless of how dire a situation may seem. Ego’s and selfishness are prevalent; there is a feeling of anarchy. People will behave selfishly and disrespect laws of man and laws of nature in these circumstances to serve themselves. 

Veronika Decides to Die, by Paulo Coelho
An account of a beautiful young Eastern European woman who is perceived as ‘having it all’. Her mindset is quite different than those around her. She doesn’t want to fall into the everyday mundane life that society expects of her.  She attempts suicide with sleeping pills. She does not succeed, and wakes up in a mental institution. She is told she has done irreversible damage to her heart and only has a few days to live. Within these few precious days she has left, she meets a few characters in the institution that make her re-think her look on life. Veronika realizes that she does have so much to live for-her own individuality. She makes the most out of the little time she has by learning the life stories of the people that are in the institution. Her physician teaches her a hard lesson about her precious life; in truth she is not really dying. She never finds out about this secret. She leaves the institution thinking every day could be her last.

We realize that the lunatics in the asylum may not be as crazy as everyone thinks. More so we realize that people who are perceived as different or do not subscribe to society’s conformities are labeled as ‘insane’ or ‘mentally unstable’. A redeeming and eye opening novel that will definitely provoke thought.


A Grand Weekend to all.

The Visitors

My husband has been a pillar of loving strength for me and keeps my chin up,  also….

Over the past few weeks since I have been at home, I’ve been graced with the presence of very special people.  

Family that are like friends, and friends that are like family.

Some of my dearest friends and family have stopped by bringing comfort in many ways, shapes and forms. They’ve entered my home accompanied by sweet delicacies, great java, nacho platters, spring rolls, (all some of my favorite things!), not to mention magazines, flowers, information and activities etc.

There are the friends that keep me cheered up with witty banter through texts or E-mailing me from their vacation destinations to see how I’m doing!!! They are thinking of me.  Grateful.

They are all keeping me connected. These are the human connections. These types of connections can’t be compared with Facebook, Twitter or Social Media which can lead to utter loneliness and alienation.

These are the people that I could call if I was stranded on the highway with a broken down vehicle and needed help.  I wouldn’t even have to guess twice; I have many choices.
To truly know that someone cares and doesn’t expect anything in return is real. These are the no strings attached genuine friendships, which run deep.  Appreciate.

 I am grateful to have them and I appreciate them. I’m blessed to have such connections. I love them. It’s that simple.