One Missed Step

On best laid plans, adapting, and taking the win. Plus, some weekend good reads!

It’s Wednesday afternoon around 3:30pm, right about the time my husband and I were planning to arrive at the airport for a special trip to London to see our son run the marathon this weekend. One of my oldest friends who spends a lot of time across the pond planned our itinerary, and in addition to watching my son run we were going to celebrate her birthday, something I’ve never taken for granted since she survived a harrowing battle with an aggressive form of breast cancer in her early 40s. F*ck cancer.

Instead, I’m balancing my laptop on my left leg which is stretched out before me, elevating the foot I fractured last Friday as I energetically bounded out of a pilates class, missing a step on my way out the door. Wearing a very unsupportive flip flop. OUCH. I still wince when I replay the moment in my mind, hearing that popping sound on a loop.

Not exactly life imitating art, but sort of?

I think I knew the instant it happened that this trip was over before it began. As the proverb goes, we make plans and god laughs. Turns out he has a pretty twisted sense of humor— a little too on the nose for my taste, thank you very much. Also, yes, he. A woman would not find this funny in the least.

By the way, if you have to get injured, try not to do it on a Friday, particularly, not on a Friday afternoon. Because unless it’s dire, you will likely be discharged from the ER with minimal explanation (“yeah, it’s fractured”— a direct quote) and will be sent home with generic instructions (Ice. Elevate. Call X specialist, except not today because it’s Friday at 4:59pm). Bad timing seems to be a theme here.

Last Friday at 3:31pm… waiting, waiting

And if you’re me, you will then go home and fall down a rabbit hole after reading the radiology report, and learn that you fractured a bone in a “structurally important area” where the foot meets the ankle. A bone with a delicate blood supply. A key bone for transferring body weight from leg to foot.

Cue my panic.

I was a pretty anxious kid, and while therapy, age, and an expanded perspective have blunted those nervous edges, there are still times I find myself floating to worst case scenarios. What if the blood supply is cut? How will I know? Is there any chance I could lose my foot (yes, this crazy thought entered my mind, which is why people caution to stay off of Dr. Google, and updated for 2026, Dr. ChatGPT).

Then there’s the reality of a non-weight bearing injury, which in some ways is more painful than the injury itself. I often say one of the gifts of age is knowing that it’s okay to ask for help. But needing help with life’s most basic functions? I mean I could place the crutches next to the bed and get myself up, but how would I carry my coffee to the table (priorities!). Carry anything for that matter? How would I shower, and how would I wash my very, very dirty hair? A friend suggested that my husband and I reenact the sexy hair washing scene from Out of Africa, which provided some very welcome comic relief (RIP Robert Redford).

I’m nothing if not resourceful, so on that first morning, I got up before my husband and crutched my way to the kitchen to make coffee, poured it into my lidded travel mug, wrapped it in a towel, and wedged it into my robe pocket to transport with me to the couch. Genius. Or, if it had spilled and burned me, the dumbest fcking idea ever. I also ordered a same-day delivery shower stool, and padded crutch covers, because those things are barbaric. It all got me thinking about how capable we are of adapting and figuring things out, even, or maybe especially, under difficult circumstances.

Another thing this week has brought to light is that I spend a lot of time on auto-pilot. And with limited mobility, you have to turn off that setting and become very mindful of how you are moving through the world (or in this case, the apartment). You have to think through all of the steps it will take, for instance, to make that cup of coffee, because getting around on crutches is hard, and you want to avoid any unnecessary moves. It’s like a mash up of The Game of Life and a game of chess, and while I’d rather be playing something much more fun, it’s been an interesting window into my current operating system and what might need an upgrade.

I’ve also been flooded with empathy for those who face limitations like this every day. I should be mostly better in 6-8 weeks, and while that feels like a long time, for many, it’s just a reality of daily life with no expiration date.

For now, I’m lucky to have my husband around to help, and I’m figuring things out, one small (sometimes ridiculous) workaround at a time. Get out of bed. Think through the steps. Don’t forget the testosterone gel. Transport the coffee, carefully.

Maybe that shower stool is a glimpse into the future. I don’t know, but for tonight, I’ll just sit, wash my hair, and take the win.

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Couch Reading

The upside to spending so much time on the couch this week…

• Permission to complain! I loved this piece from The Isolation Journals with Suleika Jaouad featuring NYT Bestselling author Kate Bowler. Let’s just say it found me at exactly the right time— now if only I could get the number for Kate’s Complaints Department of the Universe: “Press 4 if you’re calling about extremely bad timing. **Please note that wait times for bad timing are longer—partly because this is our busiest division, partly because the universe enjoys irony above all else.”** I can’t wait to read her new book, Joyful Anyway, which is currently en route!

• Prior to my missed step, I went to a book event featuring Laura Rubin in conversation with Joyce Englander Levy around Laura’s new book, The Big Unlock: Liberate Your Creativity Through Mindful Journaling. I’ve been journal-resistant for most of my life which is strange for someone who has always had big feelings and an affinity for words, but Laura’s book is opening my heart and mind to the process. In a world so noisy it can be hard to hear ourselves think, Laura’s book feels like required reading.

• I devoured The Personal Librarian by Marie Benedict and Victoria Christopher Murray, an incredible work of historical fiction based on the life of Belle da Costa Greene, JP Morgan’s personal librarian who rose to become one of the most important figures of her time in the art and books world. And she did so under the weight of a secret about her identity and race that if revealed, would undo her life, the lives of her family, and her hard-earned legacy. An amazing book that will stay with me for a very long time.

• In case you missed it, “Fashion Suddenly Loves Older Women.” Is this meaningful change, or is industry just following the money? Can both things be true?

  (Gift article via NYT)

• A stunning piece on grief and living with unimaginable loss (Gift article via The Atlantic)

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Events

On May 13th I’ll be moderating a panel in Westport, CT at Hot Takes: Truth Over Trends in Women’s Wellness. I’m really excited about this one because even as someone who’s spends a lot of time in this space, I still find it challenging to cut through all of the noise out there. And that’s exactly what we’ll be doing with experts Dr. Shieva Ghofrany, Dr. Rachel Pojednic, Dr. Katie Takayasu, and others as we discuss hormonal shifts and HRT, metabolic health, GLP1s and the peptide craze, sleep, nutrition, and mental health. Tickets are still available— would love to see you!

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Thanks so much for spending a little bit of your time with me- if you enjoyed please hit the ❤️ to help others find us here, and if you feel so inclined, I’d love to hear from you in the comments. I’m also happy to report that I’m able to do a bit of weight bearing now, which feels like progress. Still trying to figure out what the hell to wear with this boot once I start going out again— any and all suggestions appreciated!

Happy Friday, all…

Dina xx