Friends,

I cried today when I thought of my dear grandmother. She was the only grandmother I knew. She lived with us until she fell and broke her hip.

I cried today when I mentioned her cane to the stranger at the hospital telling me to do painful exercises. I was using her cane now.

How could this happen that now I need her cane?

My broken ankle, which is on the mend, still looks like a broken bird, reminding me of my mother's ankle(s), when she was climbing her ladder to Heaven in her 80's.

I feel so alone. No children following in my steps. I tried so hard to have children. My husband struggles to keep going despite the pain he feels, and someone eight years older than me. No family where I live.

Tomorrow I break free of my post-op boot.

Maybe I will celebrate my birthday sitting in the shower, with water washing over me, an my youth going down the drain. Will it ever be the same?

Besides both my feet, which complain loudly every day, I don't feel all that old, but people look at me that way now. I wish that were different somehow. I wish someone from my family would call, so I knew someone cared, but the phone sits silent.

EJ