Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow


In the morning/10 hours from now, I may be released from the bondage of my walking boot!


Oh DO try to contain yourself ladies…I’m married!


I haven’t seen the orthopedic surgeon in 5 weeks.

And Dr. P. I’m expecting you to come through for me here.

At that point, I had 3 mm of bone growth left to go.

1 cm gaps take months to move together and then fuse with any integrity.

It’s getting to the point where it’s 22 celcius and I’m pouring sweat out of one leg…and after a hot day in the boot….I am ashamed to say, I can smell myself.

My right leg is a withery gross little appendage.

I’m celebrating by booking a massage and maybe some acupuncture.

And you thought I was going to say something cool like, go to Vegas?

What’s happened in your life to try your patience?





kind over matter

The best thing I ever did in my life was volunteer to become a crisis counsellor.

It helped me search beneath the surface of my my own mind for the reasons I was compassionate with people who hurt and neglected me from childhood to present day.

There was a reason…and I knew it was buried somewhere but training to be a counsellor helped me find the words.

It also helped me find the boundaries to know when that compassion had run its course and it was time to walk away for my own protection.

The soul knows how to heal wounds of all kinds but sometimes the heart might be a little unwilling to let go as much as the mind.

Captivity…Week 9

For the record, this is not my actual foot, just the closest image I could find representative of it. This image is from,

(My right foot is a melodramatic lady named Ruby and since her injury, her postcards from the edge have been arriving for my left foot, Agnes, who is much more sedate and practical…Agnes is growing tired of Ruby’s whining so I posted her latest correspondence here….enjoy!)

Dear Monkiss’s Left Foot,

It has been weeks since I’ve seen the light of day and I’m beginning to wonder if it exists.

I have marked the days since we’ve last seen each other by resting and contemplating my predicament; my 5th metatarsal remains in pieces and the journey back to wellness seems painfully long, drawn out and filled with despair.

My skin is a dried husk and I feel like a shell of my former agile self, noticeably smaller and sometimes hopelessly malformed by edema.

The walking boot is well-worn and feeling less like a home and more like a run down prison.

I hope in my absence you have not grown tired of hearing about my travailles since my letters to you are my only connection to the outside world.

My tormentors come less regularly now; they have stopped their prodding and weekly harassments as to my true condition. They know it to be grave.

For brief moments when I feel the light on my skin and the warmth of a soothing bath, I know I’m alive and I have the strength to move forward, whatever the setbacks.

Yours in Solidarity, Monkiss’s Right Foot