Even When Broken, Other Parts Can Still Grow

It’s been seven weeks since I fractured my second metatarsal at the United States Dance Championships, which, for the record, was as glamorous as it sounds! The injury was the tragic culmination of what had been a rather graceful event up until the final moment—when my foot decided no more. With my foot in a boot and a doctor recommending bedrest, my life came to a screeching halt—well, more like a slow-motion, mid-air pirouette that never quite lands. And in the process, I’ve discovered that slowing down isn’t as unpleasant as I’d expected. I could see out my bedroom window more clearly.

The first thing I’ve noticed, much to my surprise, is the kindness of strangers. It’s as if my knee scooter has transformed me into a magnet for good Samaritans. I’ve been blown away by efforts to hold doors, help me in and out of Ubers and taxis, hold my grocery bag, and generally make an effort to ensure that my knee scooter and I stay safe while navigating the very uneven sidewalks of New York City. There’s only been one exception: a Citi-biker who screamed,

“Hey, you might be handicapped, but get a grip, a**hole!” But even that felt somewhat charming in its own way—if only because it was the only rude comment I’ve received. After all, it’s still New York.

I’ve been deeply moved by kindness. And I’d like to say that this revelation has made me a better person—that now I’m a walking (or rather scootering) example of patience and grace. I’m not implying that I’ve gone from being a sinner to a saint on wheels. But certainly, I’m happier with what I’m seeing in myself when I self-reflect at the end of each day. It has been one of the silver linings of this whole bedridden fiasco.

I was given a lot of unsolicited advice in the first days following my accident. I tuned it all out. Instead, I opted for a carefully curated team of doctors, surgeons, and physical therapists, and I’ve done enough of my own research to make sure I’m following a path that feels right for me.

And then, of course, there’s the issue of sleep. I’ve always been a big believer that sleep promotes healing. The first couple of weeks found me horizontal, foot elevated, with my only real task being to hydrate. After all, what else could I do? But once I was rested enough to stop napping in the middle of the afternoon, I began to think about what I wanted to do with this time.

I didn’t want to look back at these weeks and realize I’d spent them binge-watching TV shows I wouldn’t even remember or scrolling through Instagram in a daze. If you’re in a time where life is interrupted, you’ll find your own list. Here’s some of my promises:

Promises to Myself

• Don’t waste time. Unless there is a day of extreme pain or discomfort. I deactivated my Instagram account (because there’s only so much time you can spend watching the same influencer apply lip gloss) and have watched television with purpose. Specifically, I’ve watched programs that teach me something.
• Try something new. And of course, my version of trying something new involves activities that don’t require me to use my right foot. So, I took up one-on-one acting classes. When my coach suggested I attend improv workshops at The Pit, I figured, why not?
• Face what I’m worst at. Feeling bold, I thought about what I am the absolute worst at and wondered if there could be improvement with some time and attention given to it. Voice lessons. What an eye-opener. I had no idea that being able to sing didn’t depend on being born with some sort of perfect vocal cord structure. Eureka—there is actually a bit of hope here.
• Do something for my mind and memory. Since my 91-year-old mother and 34-year-old daughter have taken up Mahjong, that seemed like a natural fit. I’ve made a few new friends and have another new skill to work on.
• Deal with the “to-do” list. Every year, I promise myself I’ll tackle the long list of things I’ve been avoiding. This time, with all my extra time at home, I finally started clearing out outdated contacts from my phone. I’ve even started preparing my taxes early, which, when you’re injured and have nothing but time, feels like the greatest achievement since the invention of the iPhone.
• Dig deeper into the things that matter. This, of course, is different for everyone. For me, it’s been an opportunity to get more deeply connected to my spiritual practices and to my church community. If nothing else, it’s a reminder that even when your body is broken, there are other parts of you that can still grow.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I’m grateful for the injury, but I will say that the old saying, “God gives us what we need, not what we want,” seems to ring true here. I may not have asked for a fractured metatarsal, but I think it gave me exactly what I needed—a reason to slow down and take a closer look at the world and myself, one scooter ride at a time.