A Lesson in Slowing Down: Finding Gratitude in Life’s Unplanned Moments

I have been humbled. It’s 8:22 am, and I’m propped up on pillows, gazing out over the lake from my bed while the ice works its magic on my ankle. Next, I’ll strap on the air cast and take my next dose of ibuprofen. I’m about 36 hours into my 72 hours of RICE: Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation.

It’s astonishing how quickly life can change, how swiftly we can lose control of the simple, day-to-day things we take for granted, and how our bodies force us to slow down when we struggle to choose that option ourselves.

I woke up with a plan: a mastermind call at 7 am, then to pack up my laptop, my "To Pay" folder, and my laundry basket and head downstairs to do some laundry, pay some bills, and spend the better part of the day writing. I also needed to run to the dump. I run a guest house for traveling nurses, and with everyone working, I had the main house to myself. After putting in a load of laundry and heading to the dump, a call from a neighbor and dear friend invited me for a cup of tea. It was a welcome distraction I’m now profoundly grateful for.

After our chat, I switched over the laundry, started another load, and settled into the recliner in the den with my spreadsheet. Luna, my cat, nestled on my feet for a nap. Suddenly, a loud noise from the laundry room indicated the machine was out of balance. As I got up, Luna jumped off, and I didn’t realize my left foot had gone numb from her weight. It was too late. I put my full weight on it, rolled over my left numb ankle, stumbled, and landed on the floor, hitting my shoulder against the radiator.

For those who’ve experienced a vasovagal response, what happened next will be familiar: dizziness, profuse sweating, nausea, and the telltale flashing of light to black, with the sound in my ears signaling I was about to pass out. I managed to lay down away from the radiator before losing consciousness.

When I came to, sprawled on the floor away from the radiator, the throbbing in my ankle brought RICE to mind. My medical training kicked in automatically. I crawled to the freezer for ice, then onto the couch to elevate and wrap my ankle.

I remembered Sue mentioning her afternoon plans and, swallowing my reluctance to ask for help, called to see if she could fit an ER visit into her day. I’ve learned to ask for—and gratefully accept—help when I need it.

Sue arrived, and I crawled to the car for the ride to the ER, where I was left in capable hands. I left with crutches, an air cast, and a prescription for pain meds. Friends and family have been incredibly supportive, assisting with daily tasks and ensuring I follow my RICE regimen. My brother delivers ice as needed, and I’ve adapted a desk chair with wheels to navigate my home more easily.

As I reflect on this experience, I’m filled with immense gratitude for everyone who has supported me through this unplanned ordeal. Even the nurses who are my tenants have checked on me. My cats are content to keep me company as I rest.

I’ve tried to remain productive, to pay those bills and write more of my memoir, but I can’t focus. My body insists on rest, and I’m learning to heed that call.

This blog post took a full day to write, born from a moment of respite from napping, watching brief segments of Netflix movies, or reading a few pages of a book before losing focus. The simple tasks of daily living, combined with my RICE regimen, now consume all my attention, and I’m learning to embrace it. I welcome the kindness of visitors offering meals or a cup of tea, adjusting my ice pack, and providing company.
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I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the many blessings in my life, and this experience has reminded me that, no matter the challenges we face, there’s always much to be thankful for.

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