There might be a fracture.

I had my MRI yesterday. We stopped by to see my work friends and chatter just a moment. Everything looked the same, except of course, I am standing there talking to them in my street clothes while they are in their scrubs ready for work. My sweet friend Erika, was sitting in the spot I always claim. It is a small stepping stool that resides just below the OR board. I felt sad when I looked at my favorite spot to sit. I miss these people. I miss doing my job. As I laid there listening to the beat of the MRI machine, it occurred to me how many times a person lies here, wondering if there is a tumor or another life-threatning process being sighted within their body. I am laying here wondering if my ACL, by some miracle is still intact. As the procedure is finished, I throw my earplugs away and go to claim my husband waiting just outside the door. We proceed to buy new birdfeeders and seed. Along the way my doctor calls to tell me there might be a fracture of my tibia, according to the MRI. As I listen to his new information, I try to process in recovery time just what this means. It could mean six weeks before my ACL can be reconstructed, allowing the tibia to heal. I swallow hard and tell my husband the news. As I wonder about all this, I am thankful. I could have just learned I have six months to live. I could have learned about a growth or illness. As my husband is filling the birdfeeders and I am planting new flowers in my porch pots, I decide there is no time for pity. I am going to be thankful to be strong enough to participate in a physical activity that injured my knee. What if I couldn't walk? I am thankful to be so alive that I realize my knee isn't okay. There are people in a coma. I am so thankful to have breathed in the cold, fresh air of the mountains. Counting life, not in the breaths taken, but the times my breath has been taken away. I may have a fracture of my tibia, but no one's heart is broken from this news, just alittle bruised.