Let's All Do the Hop

Crutches aren't my friend. I don't relish the idea of hobbling through the (still) icy streets of Logan, but I'm ready to prove myself as I get back on my feet. After a quicky surgery on my foot this morning, I'm officially a one-footed wonder. (Note: I still have both feet, but only one is fully functioning. The other remains propped, iced, and casted in a lovely black boot.) It's amazing how my range of motion increases and decreases with my limited mobility. I find myself reaching farther and twisting awkwardly in order to avoid hopping. Maybe I'm just lazy, but I'm finding that the hop isn't my choice form of movement. I'll do anything to stay off the crutches; I've even resorted to asking my parents for help. What 23 year old does that? I thrive on the idea of independence (minus car insurance, gasoline, and a gallon of milk here or there), so hollering for a glass of water, pain medication, pillows, etc, is not really my idea of pampering. I feel pampered when I can shower and dress myself (which I'm still able to do, luckily). I feel independent in being able to drive my car without my mom freaking out about the clutch. It's only been 12 hours with the crutches and crippledom, but I'm really excited to rediscover my independence and all that comes along with it.