Real Christmas

Two weeks ago I had a Christmas meltdown. I'm still housebound with the broken ankle, still scooting up the stairs on my butt when I'm by myself, still wearing an orthopedic boot, and still, for the most part, dependent on crutches.

My meltdown began dramatically with "This is the worst Christmas ever." My husband did all kinds of kindnesses to head it off at the pass, including getting a fresh Christmas tree, decorating, even helping bake cookies. And I remember all those things. But the thing I remember the very most is what he said.

After my litany of why this is the worst Christmas ever--I haven't been out to see any decorations, I haven't been able to shop, my own house isn't even ready--he broke in with, "But none of that is even Christmas!"

In the moment, I ignored him. But now I know he was right. Christmas was this Sunday night--sitting together on the couch. Football on tv. Shared blanket on our laps. Holding hands and falling asleep in the gathering dusk. Perfectly calm, safe, peaceful. Full of gratitude for the past and hope for the future and perfect love in the moment.

Sometimes shit happens.

And happen it has.

I broke my ankle on set in November. It was in the middle of a scene, captured on film, and the audible cracking noise captured on audio.

I am completely housebound, 'walking' around on crutches and scooting up and down the stairs on my butt. I can't drive. I need help showering (which isn't nearly as fun as it sounds). Workable clothing options are severely limited.

There has been good news. No surgery required. It should heal just fine. The pain has settled. And, if all goes well, I'll be walking on one of those great big orthopedic boots sans crutches by two days before Christmas.

The bad news? The short in which it happened has to be done this year, and I can't walk to do it. The short I had lined up for next weekend will continue on without me (and I was super excited about it!). Remember Wanda the Wonderful? Well, you can't play a contortionist on crutches, so they are recasting as well. And last, a part that was written for me in a feature film being filmed in January will also be recast.

Yeah, it totally sucks. Honestly, I'm trying to focus all my energy on getting better, being positive about the situation and trying not to go insane in the house, so I don't think the disappointment is really going to sink in for a few months.

There are moments of grace. The most poignant one, and the one I will keep with me for the rest of my life, is the vision of my husband leaning over my broken ankle, washing my leg, ankle and foot so gently, as I sit above him and silently cry because I'm so scared and miserable and thankful, above all so, so thankful for him.

This accident has meant so much extra work for him--work he's taken on without complaint and with so much love. I wish it didn't happen. I don't see the good in it. But if the good is being re-reminded that I am incredibly lucky to have this man in my life, I got it. I'll remember it. No more broken bones needed to remind me.