6 millimeters and yet so far!


We strategize about so many things: career moves, financing, making our kids do things and playing chess, something I just can’t get into despite my dad and now my son’s best efforts. But I never had to strategize how to get to the bathroom to wash my hair before....wait yes I did...about 30 years ago.

I slipped and fell at a Christmas party when I became too adventurous with a certain dance step. Some of you reading this blog may remember.


I jumped up out of sheer embarrassment hoping to finish the dance with no one noticing until I looked down and saw my misshapen left wrist and I began to faint. A lump of cartilage or calcium or something and a dull ache when it rain reminds me of that night in the hospital emergency department in my black, lacey cocktail dress.

Fast forward.

Sunday morning, breakfast table..."I think I will just top up my cof.....”

I stand up, turn and over I go on that weakened right ankle I sprained so many times before. I inherited my Dad’s weak ankle ligaments. Here I go again.

24 hours later, after hobbling to teach my last class for the semester, we are back at the same Urgent Care Centre we visited two years ago.  Just a sprain then but I needed crutches to MC an outdoor concert with Robbie Lane. Some of you reading this blog may remember that!

 Just in case, we bring those crutches and a pair of baggy pants with us in the car. The doctor says he’s never heard of anyone coming to the hospital so prepared for a broken bone. And sure enough it was broken…it being the 6 millimeters above the tip of my fibula. And yes they still use plaster casts.

Well I got that pendulum swing action down with the crutches. Stairs were a different matter at first. I bummed it. I can lean on things and thanks to years of yoga, I balance on one leg pretty well and hop. A week later after watching videos online, I manage up and down steps.

But it was that old keeping-the-cast-dry-conundrum .

So this brings us to mission: hair wash.

Broken akle1

Garbage bag-check

Masking tape-check

Shower bench that belonged to my dear aunt-check

Hand shower-check

Shampoo, Conditioner-check

Razer ( for my good leg)-check

Body wash while I’m there anyway-check

They say you should do something that scares you every day. I thought I had conquered all: live TV without a script, interviewed prime ministers and movie stars, climbed up blast furnaces in high heels and hidden behind a tree during a stand-off between police and someone holed up with a gun. But here I am facing a 2 1/2 foot gap between the toilet and shower. It might as well have been 2 1/2 miles over burning hot coals. I pendulum swing into the bathroom, settle onto the bench, Dave (my Uber driver and general slave now) in tow with garbage bag and tape. Waterproofing complete;hand shower on!

 I throw back my head and turn to the warm, welcoming water and for a brief few moments I know victory! I am free and euphoric as water cascades over my body....just like Daryl Hannah in the movie, a green garbage bag as my tail, I am....a mermaid! 


*The following night I manoeuvre into the bathtub, celebrating with candles and wine! (thanks to my Uber slave).

Broken ankle2

**One week later I graduate to an aircast and discover the incredible Iwalk! -to be continued...