In my musings yesterday about exercise, pain killers and feeling sorry for myself I did not mention the care of my dog, Snickers.  Snickers is staying as close by as he possibly can.  He clearly knows something is wrong with me and he particularly likes to be as close to the bandage as possible.  No, I do not believe another dog 'marked his post' on my leg while I was in a semi-drug induced state, although I cannot say for certain while I was sedated during surgery, but the medical team that worked on my foot was phenomenal.  There have been many stories about the healing power of dogs and I believe my dog is transferring his powers of healing not only to my foot but my spirit as well.  Okay, maybe not the spirit yet since I really could use a change of attitude or scenery.

This is by far the longest period of time I have been sequestered in my house.  Just to give you an example of my past madness, 19 years ago I gave birth to my daughter on Thursday and played nine holes of golf on the following Sunday.  No, I did not take her on the golf cart, that did not happen for five months with her six week old cousin.  Anyway, I am really trying to heal.  A good friend stopped over last night and shared her mother's wisdom on how important it is to take good care of your feet.  These reminders are helpful as I lay here with my foot up and on ice.

As for the pain killers, I was strongly encouraged by my foot last night to consume, which I quickly did without hesitation.  I did my floor yoga and continue to navigate by crutches and knee scooter and arm/butt action. Will the minimal exercise possibly be enough?