This weeks blog was meant to be the all-singing, all-dancing, super happy post celebrating the end of Brian. Which is true; it was going to be that until Thursday happened.
Thursday went from being the best day ever to “really, not again”… I feel like I’ve become so much more accident-prone these past few weeks, but honestly, I think I’m starting to take it as a sign that I’m just really worn out and I really need a break.
After the previous weeks course coming to an end, it signalled the beginning of the 3,000 word essay. It was due on Friday, however I put my own internal deadline as Wednesday night, with a final read through on Thursday. This is because on Thursday morning I (hopefully) had my final appointment at Trauma Clinic. Even though I had a scheduled appointment, they always take ages, so I didn’t want to be sat there stressing about my essay.
So from the weekend onwards, I was solely focused on this essay. On Tuesday I had a quick trip to the physio and a trip out to the cinema in the evening. One of the MBA couples are film directors/producers and they were holding the premiere of their film in Oxford for the class to watch together. So on Tuesday night we all dressed up (it was boiling!) and they rolled out the red carpet for us. It was a great film and felt so weird to be back in a cinema. I think the last time I went to a cinema was January 2020.
I was on track with the essay and headed off to Trauma Clinic early Thursday morning. It was a long wait. It felt even longer, as I sat and stared at the entrance to the X-ray centre. I finally made it to X-ray and then to see the Consultant who gave me the best news ever; completely healed. He was really pleased with how it looked and where there was a large crack thirteen weeks ago, it was all nicely coloured in with new bone. I was so relieved. I cried as he showed me the X-rays side-by-side. He even congratulated me on how good it looked and how well it had healed!
It was honestly the best news ever; I was so nervous going there, as if it hadn’t healed by now, the only option would have been surgery. Yet, thankfully not. We got the green light. Green light to run, to train and to finally live normally once more.
Then Thursday night happened. It was Jas’ 30th birthday party – a great celebration for her but also I was celebrating my healed foot! It was a 90s theme fancy dress party and everyone looked amazing. We had everyone from Britney and Justin to the Spice Girls, Teletubbies, Star Wars, Slash, and not one but four Lara Crofts!
It was such a fun night; it was our first time at a proper party since February 2020. How wild is that. And then, as if the running Gods wanted to test me some more, I slipped and fell and hit my ribcage in the bathrooms. And trust me, it hurt. My whole right side is bruised and battered; I look (and feel) like I’ve been hit by a bus. I don’t know if my ribs are just heavily bruised or fractured (praying it’s the former) but either way, it will be a few weeks before they’re normal again.
I literally can’t believe it. I feel like it’s karma for something, but I don’t know what. I’ve endured 13 weeks of Brian and a broken foot and now this. Like I said, maybe I just need a break and this is my body’s way of telling me. (If it is, I wish it could have told me another way!)
I was so looking forward to a run on Friday morning, yet here we are, Sunday, no runs completed, barely able to walk, and working my way through packets of paracetamol and ibuprofen. I am praying it will be bad for just a week and I’ll be able to get back moving by the end of next week.
Unfortunately I don’t have a break yet; I am into my final class of the MBA this week, all day, every day this week. Then it’s one more 3,000 word essay and I will be done. It’s a weird thought. But to be honest, I can’t really think about much else at the moment, except for the pain that is radiating from my right side. I am so annoyed. One step forward, two steps back…